Chapter 84 It couldn’t have been her
Ethan’s POV
The whiskey burned going down, but I welcomed it. Anything to dull the edge of this goddamn business dinner that was quickly turning into a nightmare.
"Another toast, Alpha Holt!" Johnson from Blackstone Corporation raised his glass with a shit-eating grin. "To potential partnerships!"
I forced a smile and raised my glass, downing the amber liquid in one gulp. My throat was raw, my head spinning, but these bastards showed no signs of slowing down.
This was supposed to be a simple business meeting.
I’d flown to the capital specifically for this—Blackstone Corporation was our last hope to pull Silver Creek Pack back from the brink.
One contract with them could be the difference between survival and watching everything my father built crumble to dust.
But the moment I’d walked into this private dining room at the Capitol Convention Center, I knew I was fucked.
Johnson and his partners were the type who measured a man’s worth by how much he could drink.
They’d been pouring whiskey down my throat since the appetizers arrived, making it clear that if I could prove myself at the table, the contract would follow.
"Come on, Holt, don’t be shy!" Martinez, Johnson’s business partner, clapped me on the shoulder hard enough to make me wince.
"One more round. We need to see if you’ve got what it takes to handle our business."
I gritted my teeth and accepted another glass. Back in Silver Creek, Aria would have been here.
She’d always been so goddamn good at this—charming these old bastards, deflecting their drinking games with her quick wit and that sweet smile that made them putty in their hands.
She’d take half my drinks when no one was looking, her shoulder brushing mine as she whispered reassurances.
*"I’ve got you,"* she’d say. *"Just trust me."*
And I had. God, I’d taken her for granted every single day.
The whiskey hit my stomach like acid. How many had I had now? Six? Seven? I’d lost count after the fifth toast.
"Alpha Holt, you’re looking a little green," Johnson laughed, his jowls shaking. "Don’t tell me the young Alpha of Silver Creek can’t handle his liquor!"
"I’m fine," I managed, though the room was starting to tilt. I pressed my palm against the table, trying to ground myself.
But I wasn’t fine. Without Aria here to balance me, to be my shield and my anchor, I was drowning.
"One more toast!" Martinez announced. "To the success of Silver Creek Pack!"
I couldn’t. My stomach was churning, bile rising in my throat. I could taste the alcohol on my tongue, sour and wrong.
"Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me," I said, pushing back from the table more abruptly than I intended. "I need to use the restroom."
Johnson’s eyes narrowed slightly—I could see him measuring whether I was trying to escape or genuinely needed to piss—but he waved his hand dismissively. "Don’t keep us waiting too long, Holt. The night’s still young!"
Their laughter followed me as I stumbled out of the private dining room, my hand pressed against my mouth. The hallway tilted and swayed, the elegant chandelier overhead spinning like a kaleidoscope.
Fuck. I was way more drunk than I’d realized.
I needed to find a bathroom, needed to splash some cold water on my face, maybe stick my fingers down my throat and purge some of this poison from my system.
But the hallway seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions, each door looking exactly the same.
I turned left, my shoulder bouncing off the wall as I walked.
My wolf was silent, offering no help, probably disgusted with how weak I was being. Some Alpha I was, getting drunk and lost in a fucking hotel.
The hallway grew dimmer as I moved away from the main dining area.
My vision was blurring, everything taking on a dreamlike quality. I should turn back, find someone to ask for directions, but my pride wouldn’t let me.
I stumbled forward, my hand trailing along the wall for support. Just a few more feet. The bathroom had to be close.
Then I saw them.
At the end of the hallway, barely visible in the dim light, two figures were pressed against the wall.
A man and a woman, their bodies tangled together, kissing with the kind of desperate intensity that made my chest tighten.
The woman’s back was to me, but something about her made me freeze. The curve of her spine, the way her dark hair fell over her shoulders, the elegant line of her neck—
"Aria?Is that you?"
Her name escaped my lips before I could stop it, raw and desperate and wrong.
It couldn’t be her. Aria was in hometown. She wouldn’t be here, in the capital, kissing some other man like—
Like I’d never existed.
My feet moved of their own accord, carrying me forward.
I needed to see her face, needed to confirm that my alcohol-soaked brain was playing tricks on me. Because if that was Aria, if she’d moved on that quickly—
"Alpha Holt!" A hand grabbed my arm, yanking me backward. "There you are. I thought you might have gotten lost."
It was Stevens, one of Johnson’s assistants, looking at me with barely concealed pity. "The restroom is back this way, sir. You walked right past it."
I tried to pull away, to get back to the couple at the end of the hall, but Stevens had a firm grip on my elbow. "Come on, Alpha Holt. Let’s get you cleaned up. Mr. Johnson is waiting."
I craned my neck, trying to see around him, but the dim hallway was empty now. The couple had vanished, dissolved like smoke, like they’d never been there at all.
"I saw—" I started, but the words tangled on my tongue. What had I seen? A woman who looked like Aria? Or just shadows and wishful thinking?
"Easy now," Stevens said, guiding me toward a door marked with a restroom sign. "You’ve had quite a bit to drink. Why don’t you splash some water on your face?"
I let him lead me inside, my mind still reeling. The bathroom was all gleaming marble and gold fixtures, the kind of opulence that usually impressed me but now just made me feel sick.
I stumbled to the sink and gripped the counter, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot, my tie askew, my hair disheveled. I looked like shit.
And all I could think about was the woman in that hallway.
It wasn’t her. It couldn’t have been her. Aria wouldn’t move on that fast. She loved me—had loved me—with everything she had. Two years of marriage didn’t just disappear in a few days.
Did they?