The Alpha's Forbidden Vow novel Chapter 29

POV: Isabella

Victory tasted like vintage champagne and the subtle, satisfying hum of a perfectly executed plan.

My informant in Creekwood had messaged me the moment Zane’s rental SUV was spotted entering the town.

I was already on my private jet an hour later, touching down at the same airfield he had used.

I knew this moment would come.

I knew his obsessive hunt would eventually lead him here.

And I knew that when he finally saw her, saw the life she had built without him, he would break.

And I would be there to pick up the pieces.

My spies had tracked him easily from the park to the dingy little human bar.

It was all playing out exactly as I had anticipated.

When I stepped into “The Rusty Mug,” the stench of stale beer and human desperation was almost enough to make me turn back.

But then I saw him.

He was slumped over the bar, a nearly empty bottle of whiskey beside his hand, his proud, powerful frame reduced to a portrait of drunken misery.

The sight filled me with a delicious, intoxicating mix of triumph and disgust.

Triumph because his pain made him vulnerable to me.

Disgust because this pathetic state was all because of *her*.

The human bartender’s eyes went wide as I approached, taking in my designer dress and the aura of pure, unadulterated power that I wore like a second skin.

“He’s had enough,” I said, my voice cool and commanding.

I placed a crisp, five-hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “This covers his tab and your silence. You never saw us.”

The man’s eyes bulged, and he nodded dumbly, quickly scooping up the money.

I walked over to Zane and placed a delicate hand on his broad back.

“Zane,” I said softly.

He stirred, lifting his head slowly.

I was about to remove his shoes when his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist in a grip of iron.

He pulled me down onto the bed beside him.

His eyes were half-open, hazy and unfocused.

He was looking at me, but he wasn’t seeing me.

He was seeing her.

“Selene,” he breathed, his voice thick with five years of agonizing longing.

A thrill of victory, tainted and bitter, shot through me as he clung to me.

He needed someone.

And I was here.

He pulled me closer, his face burying in my hair, his body trembling with a violent, shuddering breath.

“Don’t leave me again,” he whispered, his voice cracking with a pain that was not meant for me.