Chapter 11
Each word struck Reed like lightning, leaving him frozen in place.
Noon. A taxi. That muffled “Miss Frost“…
All the ignored details suddenly crashed into focus.
The manager was still rambling explanations. “Even if I hadn’t called Miss Frost, she seemed to already know. She asked many questions that day and left a box for you.”
The keeper presented a small velvet case. Reed could barely breathe as he opened it, finding their engagement ring gleaming inside.
Next to it lay a pink button.
The sight triggered a memory from three days ago – Scarlett’s complaint as they left this very building: “Be gentler next time. You tore the buttons off my dress.”
He remembered that pink dress, the one he’d torn off and later helped her back into.
Reed’s blood ran cold. He grabbed the keeper’s collar, his eyes wild. “What date?”
“Th–three days ago. Miss Frost arrived at two and left around five.”
The truth shattered what remained of his composure. He snatched the ring and raced to his
car.
Running red lights and breaking every traffic law, he made it home in ten minutes. His
pack brothers had torn apart Winter’s villa, finding nothing.
“Alpha, there’s not a trace left! We can’t find her!”
“We checked all flights leaving North Ridge territory – no passenger under Winter Frost’s
name.”
The Broken Luna Unbound: Goodbye to My Alpha’s Seven–Year Deception
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apte 11
Each report sent his heart plunging deeper. His calls went straight to voicemail, messages bounced back undelivered, a wall of red exclamation marks making his head spin.
His brothers, never having seen their Alpha so undone, tried to help.
“She can’t have gone far. We can still track her.”
“We’ll trace her phone.”
Clinging to that thread of hope, Reed ordered his assistant to investigate.
An agonizing hour later: “Sir, we found her phone in a station trash bin. We’re checking passenger lists, but there are unofficial transports we can’t track.”
Not good news, but better than nothing.
Reed rushed to the station. His assistant handed him Winter’s cleaned phone. Unlocking it,
he found all social media wiped clean, contacts deleted except one:
Scarlett Vale.
Cold sweat broke out across his skin. After steeling himself, he opened their chat history.
The latest was a video from this afternoon – in his car. Reed couldn’t bring himself to watch scrolling up instead.
Three or four videos daily, interspersed with messages:
“How does it feel playing dumb? How much more can you endure, Winter?”
“Your mate–to–be has such strong desires, and you’re so frigid. If you actually married, you’d last three months. Still want to mate him?”
“Beg me, and I’ll teach you how to keep him satisfied. Then he wouldn’t need to fake memory loss to cheat. Interested?”
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The Broken Luna Unbound: Goodbye to My Alpha’s Seven–Year Deception
