I Rejected My Obsessive Werebeast novel Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Aurora’s POV

I stared at the photo in Phoebe’s hand for a few seconds.

My pupils contracted. Then I forced my focus back.

The woman’s silhouette was close to mine. But the angle of the shoulder and neck was wrong. The depth of field in the trees was off. Most likely a composite one of my public photos stitched onto

another scene.

–

micro-

I opened my mouth. Then I looked at the lenses pushing forward. The reporters’ eyes, bright and hungry. The phones recording every expression. I closed it again.

Nothing I said would be believed right now. Every word I spoke would become another clip for them to cut and splice. The more I explained, the more material I gave them,

I ran through countermeasures in my head.

Just then, a tiger’s growl rolled out from Silas’s chest and spreaded outward like a shockwave.

The people closest to us staggered back two steps. One of them almost \ dropped their phone.

The flashing stopped. Shutters went quiet.

Chapter 42

-I turned my head and looked at Silas. My pupils tightened again.

In this world, werebeasts are not allowed to use their physical presence to threaten humans. Ever. Violators get disciplined hard by the Authority.

That sound Silas just made means he’d crossed the line.

I opened my mouth to say something. Before I could, he bent down, scooped me up in his arms, and started walking. “I’ll never let anyone treat you like that again.”

His jacket slipped off his shoulder. He caught it with one hand, pulled it over my head. The fabric blocked my vision and the lenses at the same time. Through the thin layer of material, I heard the crowd start to ripple again behind us. I was pressed against his chest. Through his shirt I could feel his strong heartbeat.

“You can’t just leave!” Someone tried to follow.

Silas made another low sound. “Anyone who tries to stop us, I don’t mind showing you exactly what an S-class werebeast can do.” The crowd instinctively took two steps back.

Then his pace quickened. A car door opened. I was lowered gently into the passenger seat. The seatbelt clicked into place.

Silas went around to the driver’s side. Started the engine. Tires scraped the ground once, short and sharp, and the car pulled away from the circle of lights and lenses.

Ten minutes later the car stopped in front of our house.

Chapter 44

280

>”What’s wrong?”

“Nathan found a few leads,” I said. “Nothing confirmed yet.”

He sat beside me and reached for his cup.

“Take your time,” he said. “We’ll dig her out.”

I nodded and went back to my breakfast.

Afterward, I opened my laptop and went through everything I’d

gathered on Phoebe, from the intimate photos of her and Connor to the falsified Matching Center records and the police report from when she hired Lucien.

I put everything in chronological order. Then I searched for screenshots of the composite photo’s comment section and saved the ones that mattered most-the posts that had gotten the most attention and shares.

I was still sorting through the files when my phone rang

It was the Matching Center.

I answered and listened in silence. After a brief pause, I said, “Understood,” then hung up and turned to Silas.

“The Matching Center sent a notice about what happened the other day, in front of the cameras.” He looked at me. “They classified it as a ‘minor boundary violation.’ You’re only getting a written warning. No demotion. No fine.”

“Good.” He nodded, his expression unchanged.

Chapter 44

>Two minutes later, his own phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, and a slight crease appeared between his brows. Without saying anything, he got up and stepped onto the balcony, sliding the glass door shut behind him.

I could see him through the glass, his back to me as he spoke into the phone. His voice was too low for me to make out the words.

A minute later, he came back inside.

“Who was it?” I asked.

“Nothing.” He sat down and picked up his water. “Spam call.”

The answer sounded casual enough, but I noticed his tail.

The tip had slipped out from the waistband of his lounge pants and was brushing lightly against the edge of the sofa.

Once.

Then again.

He always did that when something was bothering him.

I didn’t press him. I watched him for another moment before turning back to my laptop.

In the racing circuit’s office, Jessica sat behind her desk with her phone lying face-down on the blotter.

Her thumb traced the edge of it absentmindedly.

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