Chapter 22. A Sip of Freedom

Julian’s POV

The bar was as it always had been—dimly lit, with the faint scent of aged wood and citrus lingering in the air. It was the one place where I could escape the relentless demands of Pack politics, the expectations of family, and the suffocating constraints of my so-called engagement. Tonight, I needed this escape more than ever.

Amelia’s cloying laughter echoed in my memory, her touch lingering on my shoulders like an unwelcome shadow. Every interaction with her was a reminder of the obligations I couldn’t shake off, and the puppet strings that seemed to tighten around me with each passing day.

I stepped inside and let the familiar hum of conversation and clinking glasses wash over me. The bar was alive with its usual crowd, regulars perched on their stools, nursing drinks while exchanging banter, and groups of friends tucked into booths, laughing loudly. A group of rowdy men dominated one corner, their animated gestures and booming voices command