He Chased Me to Spite His Enemy. So I Left Him at the Altar Chapter 04

He Chased Me to Spite His Enemy. So I Left Him at the Altar Chapter 04

I erased every trace of my trip to L.A. Avoiding scent tracking isn’t hard for me–I grew up in the human world, so I learned a lot of little tricks that pureblood wolves never bother with. I went back to the house Dorian and I shared, an old Thorne estate on Long Island with moon–grass growing all over the garden. 

I took out every gift he’d ever given me and cut them to pieces. 

How strange. 

My mind was completely blank, but tears kept streaming down my face. 

I once heard that heartbreak is like rheumatism–you’re fine during the day when the sun’s out, but at night, the damp cold seeps into your bones and the pain is unbearable. 

Maybe this is just withdrawal. 

I got up, laid the custom–made wedding dress flat on the floor. 

And without any expression on my face, I sliced a long rip into it with a pair of scissors. 

I need to remember- 

Feelings are the same way. Once there’s a tear, no amount of mending can make it like new again. 

I cleaned everything up and put it all in the study. Dorian Thorne hardly ever went in there. The study had his grandfather’s alpha medal hanging on the wall, and a faded 

hide–and–antler crest on another. 

I couldn’t sleep. I was scrolling through my phone when a recommendation popped up for someone I might know. 

The username was: **dorians_sweetheart**. 

Don’t ask me why, but I clicked on it. 

It was a girl documenting her secret crush on a guy. 

Her latest post was tagged in Los Angeles. 

The caption said: **The man I’ve loved for ten years is getting married next month. I want to gather the courage to confess- wish me luck.** 

In the photo, I saw a hand I recognized. 

There was a ring on the finger–Dorian Thorne’s ring. The Thorne family signet, a silver band with a wolf’s silhouette 

carved into it. 

I didn’t hear from Dorian Thorne, but I did get a call from 

Cassian Greymoor. 

“Guess who I ran into in L.A.?” 

“Cassian Greymoor, I don’t care. Stop calling me from 

different numbers.” 

I was about to hang up when I heard that smug, barely–hidden 

satisfaction in his voice: 

“Evelyn Blackwood, don’t you get why Dorian Thorne’s been gone so long? He doesn’t want to marry you. He can’t stand that you used to chase me.” 

“He only went after you to get back at me. He’s not worth your 

time.” 

“What’s your point?” I was already getting impatient. 

“Evelyn Blackwood–at least around *me*, there’s no other girl who ever liked me for ten years…” 

I sat up and raised my voice: “Cassian Greymoor, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” 

“Five years later, and you’re still so desperate to stir up 

trouble between us.” 

“But let me make this clear–whatever happens, it’s my choice. I’ll take my losses. I’m not looking back.” 

Cassian Greymoor paused for a moment, then said something completely unrelated: “I sent you something. You’ll want to 

see it.” 

After he hung up, I got a video. 

In dim light, a girl stood face–to–face with Dorian Thorne. 

He blew out a smoke ring, looking as casual and lazy as ever. 

Amid the whistling and cheering, the girl stood on her tiptoes 

and kissed him. 

And he didn’t move away. 

The video ended there. 

I opened the girl’s social account- 

She’d already posted an update: **Guess that counts as a win, doesn’t it?** 

The photo was of the two of them kissing. 

I felt so disgusted I ran to the bathroom, hugged the toilet, 

and dry–heaved for a long time. 

Then I remembered I hadn’t eaten all day—what was there to 

throw up? 

My stomach was cramping so bad I couldn’t stop shaking. 

Suddenly I thought back to right after Dorian Thorne and I became official. I wanted to see the stars from a mountaintop in the middle of the night. He didn’t ask a single question; he just gave in to my whim, drove me all the way up that mountain in the dark. That mountain was right on the border 

between Silvermoon and Shadowpine territory, a place neither pack liked to go. Late–night cold crept in, but he held me gently, his body heat soaking into me–werewolves run hotter 

than humans, like a furnace. He leaned down, nervous, and asked: “The moonlight’s so beautiful tonight, Evelyn Blackwood… can I kiss you?” 

There was no going back. 

I fell asleep at some point, drenched in cold sweat. 

In the middle of the night, I heard noise from the living room. 

I was shivering, too weak to get up. 

The next second, the bedroom light flipped on. 

The brightness stabbed my eyes. 

Then I heard Dorian Thorne’s panicked voice: “Evelyn? What’s wrong?” 

At 7 a.m., I woke up in the hospital. 

Dorian Thorne was holding my hand, looking exhausted, like he’d stayed by my side all night. Werewolves don’t actually need sleep–their bodies heal themselves–but there were still dark circles under his eyes, the kind that come from long–term anxiety and sky–high cortisol levels. 

He got up to pour me water. “You’re wrecking yourself the second I’m gone? Your stomach’s always been weak–don’t 

do this to yourself, okay?” 

He was accusing* me. 

How laughable. 

During that week I spent looking for him, I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, lost five pounds. 

I was terrified that Dorian Thorne had crossed someone in business–or worse, that Silvermoon was coming after him. Werewolf territory feuds aren’t something you joke about. I was scared sick, unable to sleep at night, soaking my pillow 

with tears. 

And there he was, living it up somewhere else, kissing some 

other girl. 

“Nothing to say?” Dorian Thorne’s eyes crinkled with a smile as he pinched my cheek. “You know I’m gonna have to punish you for this, right?” 

“Come on. Get up and eat something.” 

“I went home and made you soup–didn’t sleep a wink.” 

He acted like nothing had happened at all. He helped me sit up, 

picked up the spoon, and fed me one bite at a time. 

A few times, I almost asked him- 

Dorian Thorne, aren’t you tired of acting? 

Or I wanted to say: *Dorian Thorne, I heard everything you said. If you don’t want to get married, we can call it off right now–it’s not like we’ve signed anything yet.* 

But I forced myself to swallow it down. 

I also wanted to know–after all those years of love, why was 

he doing this to me? 

Just because I used to like someone else, did that mean I didn’t deserve to be loved anymore?