Christina's POV

The drive to my rarely-used apartment was a blur. The one I hadn't set foot in for months ever since Niall's mom invited me to live at their packhouse and plan the wedding. What a joke that turned out to be.

As I reached my door, I fumbled with the security pad.

Pain traveled through every inch of my body, and I gritted my teeth, refusing to faint pathetically on my doorstep.

Wrong code. Again. And again.

Frustration boiled over.

I kicked the door with my heel, a pitiful gesture that accomplished nothing except sending pain shooting up my leg.

Of course. The universe had decided today was the day for my starring role in a cosmic joke.

I slumped against the wall and slid to the floor as sobs tore from my throat.

Why did everyone always favor Beatrice?! Hadn't I suffered enough? Second place in my family, just a replacement in my own mate's heart?

Just as I was nearly choking on my own cries, a deep voice came from behind me.

"That's my door you're assaulting."

Great. Another fucking problem.

"What?" I snapped, turning to glare.

The man standing there was... devastating. Not pretty-boy handsome like Niall, but ruggedly masculine. Tall and powerfully built, with sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and those piercing blue-gray eyes that seemed to see right through me.

He looked like the kind of Alpha who didn't just win battles but erased his enemies from history entirely.

"If you're planning to kick it in, I'll need your insurance information first," he said flatly.

My throat went dry. "I-I'm so sorry. I thought this was my apartment."

He tilted his head, gaze unreadable. "Rough day?"

My face burned with awkwardness. Great. Rejected, injured, and now looking like a complete idiot in front of the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen.

"You could say that." I muttered, hauling myself up and attempting dignity while looking like a raccoon caught in a dumpster fire.

"Easy there, hurricane." He raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the door across the hall. "That would be yours, I believe."

Hurricane? I should've been annoyed, but the way he said it made my stomach flutter strangely.

"I know where I live."

"Could've fooled me."

"Fine," I mumbled, attempting to smooth down my wreck of a dress. "Thanks for the geography lesson."

"Need help with your door code?"

"What I need is for this day to reboot like a malfunctioning iPhone, but thanks for the offer."

I walked toward my door, feigning composure and grace. As if the crazy woman who'd just had a breakdown wasn't me at all.

While I punched in my door code, I could feel those intense eyes watching my every move.

Come on, fingers, work faster.

Beep-finally.

I glanced back. He was still watching, arms crossed.

"Sorry about your door," I muttered.

"I'll survive."

I closed my door and pressed my back against it.

Well, that was humiliating. My devastatingly handsome neighbor probably thought I was a lunatic, and honestly? He wasn't wrong.

Wait-devastatingly handsome?Fuck. I really was losing it.

I dropped onto my bed, exhausted.

Akira was barely alive inside me, hurt by rejection, her once-sharp senses now dulled.

"We'll heal," I whispered to her.

No response.Great. Even my own wolf was giving me the silent treatment.

I don't know when I started losing myself for him. Maybe it was the first time he looked at me like I wasn't enough.

I bleached my hair until my scalp burned raw because he called me boring with "mousy brown hair." I shoved my feet into heels that carved blisters into my skin, only for him to sneer, "Why are you walking like a newborn giraffe? Beatrice could run in heels."

I dragged myself into the kitchen before dawn, cooking meals I never ate, ironing shirts that weren't mine. When the pack humiliated me, he didn't protect me. He only reminded me I should be grateful to "make do."

I realize now-he never truly saw me as his mate. His one and only. I was his project. His servant. A placeholder until he found what he truly wanted.

For four long years, I stayed.

The weight of that truth crushed me. My chest ached with every breath. How pathetic, that I poured everything into a man who never even tried to know me.

My exhausted heart needed rest. I curled into the wet pillow and let the darkness take me.

Two days slipped away before I woke again.

I called gently to Akira, "Are you okay, Akira? Can you hear me?"

Akira stirred weakly in my mind, "Chrissy, I feel off. I can't smell anything anymore."

I froze, trying to catch any scent. Nothing.

"Maybe it's just temporary from all the pain," I said to Akira, not knowing if I was comforting her or myself. "It might come back later."

Her tail drooped listlessly in my mind. Not being able to smell meant she couldn't identify potential mates-a devastating loss for any wolf. But there was nothing we could do about it right now.

I let her rest and checked my messages.

Oddly, my parents hadn't bombarded me with mind-links or calls since their initial outburst.This engagement had been their golden ticket to an alliance with The Frostpelt Pack. A marriage alliance with one of the North's top three packs wasn't something they'd abandon easily.Neither of us daughters could inherit leadership of The Crescent Pack, but marrying a powerful Alpha?That ensured our pack's future prosperity.

Suspicious.

Part of me wondered if Niall had said something to keep them at bay. Maybe even felt guilty? Unlikely. More probably planning his next move.

The doorbell shattered my pity party. And it didn't stop ringing.

For five minutes.

I groaned. Horrible social interaction.

Dragging my carcass to the door, I pulled it open.

Ysolde Carlisle, who was my best friend and the only person with legal rights to yell at me, stood there with narrowed eyes and two bags of takeout. Then her gaze landed on my face.

"What the hell happened to you? For real?"

"I'm giving my face a remodel-symmetry was getting stale," I said with a lazy shrug, even though every muscle in my face ached.

She wasn't buying that crap for a second.

She reached out, tilting my chin gently to inspect the split skin on my cheek.

"Who laid hands on you?"

"C'mon inside," I muttered, hurrying her along-didn't need the whole block gossiping about my beat-up face.

The door slammed shut, and I collapsed into her arms, all the fight draining out of me.

Eventually, one word fell out, quiet and broken.

"Niall."

Ysolde froze solid.

"No fucking way," she hissed. "Niall? Your mate Niall? The poster child for diplomatic perfect behavior?"

I nodded, my eyes burning.

"Tell me everything. Not a single detail left out."

So I did. Beatrice's photo. The slap. The formal rejection.

By the time I finished, Ysolde looked ready to commit murder.

"That bastard," she hissed. "And over what? Your psycho sister who isn't even here? I swear to Goddess, Chrissy, Beatrice could be on another continent and she'd still find a way to ruin your life."

"Maybe it's for the best. At least I found out what kind of mate he really is before we got married."

My stomach growled loudly.

Ysolde raised an eyebrow and lifted the takeout bags."Good thing I came prepared."

Between bites, I frowned. "Don't you think it's weird my parents haven't called? They wanted this wedding so badly, but now... nothing."

Ysolde shrugged."Maybe they're plotting. Your father isn't the type to give up his plan easily."

After dinner, Ysolde pushed me into the bathroom to shower while she cleaned up.

I stood under the hot water, trying to wash away four years of delusion.

Through the bathroom door, I heard her on the phone. I caught bits and pieces.

"Complete asshole."

"What a dick."

"You won't believe what he did to her-"

She was probably talking to Zane Carlisle,her brother.Unlike Niall,Zane treated women with respect.

The way Ysolde so instantly,so fiercely chose my side made my throat tight.She believed me without hesitation.When everyone else would side with Niall, she'd declared war on my behalf.

This wasn't something small.Going against Niall's pack could create serious problems for her family's small pack.

I wrapped myself in a towel and sighed.

Why couldn't my parents love me like that?

Suddenly,I was hit by waves of excruciating pain,each one stabbing through my abdomen. Each surge burned through my neck where Niall's mark still lingered.

I collapsed on the bathroom floor with a scream.

Ysolde burst through the door.

"Chrissy! What happened?"

I could barely form words. "Pain... killer... please..."

Ysolde helped me up and rushed out to get medication.

I clutched my stomach, biting my lip to keep from screaming again. This was different from rejection pain.

Akira howled in anguish inside me.

"It's mate betrayal," she whispered weakly.

"What? But I already rejected him-"

"The mark on your neck hasn't fully faded," Akira explained through our pain.

Seriously? He rejected me and immediately ran off to fuck someone else? Couldn't even wait for our bond to completely break before shoving his dick into another woman?

Ysolde returned with painkillers and water.

After I swallowed them and the worst waves subsided, she sat beside me, fury blazing in her eyes.

"That bastard," she snarled.

I nodded weakly.

"You know what?" Ysolde stood up. "Fuck him. You shouldn't have to suffer alone through this pain, he needs to get a taste of his own medicine."

I stared at her in confusion.

"Get dressed," she commanded. "Niall's dick isn't the diamond, and it sure as hell isn't worth mourning. We're going out to find you someone who doesn't need his ex's photo to get it up."

I blinked. "I've been rejected and your solution is... clubbing?"

She threw clothes at my face."My solution is reminding you that you're Christina fucking Vance, and one Alpha's rejection doesn't break you."

I stared at her. Every part of me wanted to crawl back into bed and disappear. But lying here wallowing while Niall was probably celebrating with someone else?

Fuck that!

"Fine," I said, dragging myself up."But if I collapse on the dance floor,you're carrying me home."

Ysolde grinned wickedly. "Trust me, you won't need rescuing tonight."

Christina's POV

"Don't you think I look like a hooker? Do I really have to wear this?" I said, tugging at my extremely short skirt that would show my panties if I so much as sneezed.

"Sweetheart, it's not vulgar-it's daring sexy," Ysolde said, dressed like a mafia queen and standing tall against the icy wind in her five-inch heels. "Plus, don't cheapen yourself like that."

"But isn't this a little too-" I didn't even finish before a brutal gust of wind slapped me across the face. I immediately wrapped my sinful fur coat tighter around myself and curled up like a frozen prawn.

Ysolde let out a groan."Chrissy, come on. We're going to Highrise City's most exclusive pack club, not an Arctic expedition."

"I'm just glad I won't be hospitalized for hypothermia tonight, thanks," I snapped back.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't you already have a fur coat? You know, the one that comes naturally?" she said, clearly questioning why a werewolf was complaining about the cold.

I bit back, "Because I'm in human form right now!"

I'd thought we'd have to wait in line like everyone else. That was the whole reason I wore this fur coat. But clearly, I had underestimated Ysolde.

She had no intention of following the rules.

With the ease of someone who'd done this a thousand times, she slipped a rolled-up bill into the bouncer's hand, her palm casually grazing his rock-hard chest like a Bond girl who'd forgotten her martini.

Ten seconds. That was all it took. We were in.

Ysolde was the kind of beautiful that made men forget their names and girlfriends in two seconds.

We sailed into Luna's Eclipse. It was the most exclusive club in Highrise City where rich werewolves played politics over overpriced drinks.

The place was thick with heat, perfume, and the effervescent scent of champagne.

I ripped off my coat the second we stepped inside, only to be met with a glare from Ysolde that said it all: Are you trying to humiliate me?

She handed her coat off to a passing server with a flick of her fingers, like she'd personally hired the man.

I tried to copy her moves. Failed miserably. Nearly dropped my purse.

"Moon Goddess!" I gasped, eyes glued to the menu like it was robbing my credit card.

Ysolde gave me a sideways glance and scoffed. "Wait, Niall never spent money on you? What a cheapskate."

"Relax. Tonight's on me."

I breathed a sigh of relief.Considering I'd been rejected by my mate, had my wedding canceled, and my parents were planning to banish me from the territory to become a rogue, I needed a fortune to buy scent-masking spray to prevent Niall from hiring someone to kill me.

Price tags aside,the view was elite-rising young Gammas, handsome future Alphas, and a swarm of finance bros who looked like they gave TED talks on dominating Wall Street in custom suits.

Honestly, it was a room full of show-offs and wannabe flirts, all hiding under the dim lighting.

We found a table near the bar and a bartender locked eyes on us.

Well. He was hard to miss-tall, sculpted features, sleeves rolled to the elbows just enough to show off well-trained forearms.

He shouldn't be mixing drinks. He should be shooting Dior fragrance ads or modeling sexy men's underwear. Or at the very least starring on the shifter romance novel cover.

Maybe that's why this club was so expensive,even the staff had to be perfect.

"Two 75s, whiskey," Ysolde ordered before I could even find the cheapest drink on the menu. "Make it strong."

And of course, she didn't forget to show her perfect smile,chin tilted just enough to say "Oops, didn't mean to flirt."

The bartender reached effortlessly for the gin. "Rough night?"

"More like a rejection-level disaster," she said, casually pointing her thumb at me. "And it's wrapping up real soon."

I glanced at her. "Thrilled that my personal life is now public broadcast."

She patted my hand."Sweetie, this place runs on romantic catastrophes. Without bad decisions, no one would be buying drinks."

Then she turned away and melted into the crowd, flipping into Social Queen Mode like someone had hit a switch.

In under ten seconds, she completed a visual sweep before spinning back around and pointing toward the edge of the dance floor.

"Okay, listen. You need a rebound. Target A: Six-foot-two Manhattan finance bro, suit worth more than your monthly rent, haircut that speaks 'my therapist costs more than your car.' He'll wine and dine you, then ghost you for his stock portfolio."

I shook my head. "Nope."

Her eyes flicked to a new direction. "Target B: tortured Parisian artist type. Looks like he subsists entirely on cigarettes and existential dread. He'll write poetry about your eyes, then ask to 'borrow' money for art supplies that somehow always end up being weed and takeout.'"

"Pass."

She sighed, then pointed again."Fine. Target C: sensitive musician with a 'promising EP dropping next month.' Translation,you'll be supporting him financially while he finds himself through his craft for the next decade."

I groaned into my hands. "Ysolde, please."

She didn't back down. "Chrissy, you cannot sit here like a decorative wall gecko. Tonight is about rebooting your life, not stitching up emotional wounds."

Just as she geared up for a fourth round of rebound recommendations, she suddenly froze. It was like someone had hit mute on her entire system.

Then, far too casually, she said, "Hey, want to hit the bathroom?"

I narrowed my eyes. "No?"

"...Or maybe let's move tables? The vibe here's weird." Her smile was tight.

Weird vibe? We'd only been sitting for ten minutes, and we just ordered drinks.By Ysolde's standards, we were barely warming up.

Then I followed her gaze.

A half-private booth.

Niall.

He had his arm draped around a woman. Her head rested on his shoulder, makeup flawless, smile polished and effortless.

But that wasn't the worst part.

They were kissing. Deep, hungry kisses.

The woman was perched on his lap, her dress riding up, their hands roaming each other's bodies as if they were seconds away from tearing each other's clothes off right there in the club.

My stomach lurched. The sight was revolting, obscene.

I didn't need more details about who she was.

That face, I would never forget it.

Four years ago, the woman generously "gifted" me her boyfriend as my fated mate, left a heartfelt letter, and disappeared overseas.Now here she was, brazenly draped across my mate's lap, turning the whole club into their personal cheating stage.

I had told myself I was over it. We'd broken up. It was done. Time to move on.

Until I heard what came next.

"Honestly, I didn't think she'd completely break down over a picture frame." Beatrice's voice dripped false pity as she pulled away from their kiss.

"I put that photo where she'd see it. She still doesn't know about your 'business trips' to Europe for me. Time she got a hint, don't you think?"

She looked up at Niall adoringly. "Darling, your performance was perfect. Even I almost believed you cared about the photo instead of covering our affair."

Niall chuckled. "I had to act upset. She spends every day trying to be perfect for me. If she knew all her effort still couldn't compete with you, she'd completely lose it."

Beatrice laughed softly, patting his chest. "Don't worry. Knowing Chrissy, she's probably still trying to fix things. She always believes if she just tries hard enough, people will see her worth."

"The harder she tries, the more pathetic she looks." Beatrice smiled. "And I just 'happened' to return home. My parents don't know anything. She ended things herself, so you're blameless."

Niall nodded. "I talked to your parents. The wedding's still on-just a change of bride."

Beatrice smiled triumphantly. "Perfect ending, right? I never gave up on you. Just waited for her to step aside."

She leaned closer. "You know how she tried copying everything about me? The bleached hair, the style changes, even how she talks? God, it was hilarious watching her pathetic attempts."

Niall snorted. "Like a discount knockoff."

"Though I thought fated mates were supposed to be deeply in love?" Beatrice's voice turned curious. "Aren't you two supposed to be...?"

Niall's face darkened.

My hands shook so badly I could barely hold my drink. The pieces were falling into place, and Akira whimpered inside me.

"He's been cheating long before the rejection," she whispered weakly. "That's why we're in such agony."

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. When there's infidelity after being marked, intimacy with another outside the mateship causes extreme pain to the partner. But distance can mask immediate betrayal pain,it festers in the bond instead.

All those "business trips" abroad. All those times he visited Beatrice. The mate bond had been slowly deteriorating, accumulating damage we couldn't feel because of the distance.

When Niall rejected me, that rejection pain combined with months of accumulated betrayal trauma. It was destroying us both.

No wonder I felt like I was dying. I wasn't just dealing with rejection.

I was dealing with months of hidden betrayal finally surfacing all at once.

Beatrice noticed Niall's dark expression and quickly backpedaled. "I'm just teasing, silly. I know I'm the only one in your heart."

The words stung like humiliation dressed up as banter. It was the kind of punchline you'd expect at a comedy club, not from your sister and your mate. Funny, isn't it? How the people who know you best are the ones who can cut the deepest.

Akira stirred inside me, her growl low and hungry for payback.

Ysolde was pleading with me to stay calm, to not do anything stupid. But her voice was nothing but background noise.

I wasn't the same Christina who swallowed her pride for praise anymore.

I slipped free from Ysolde's grip and turned to the bartender."Your best champagne. Put it on Niall Granger's tab."

The bartender handed me the bottle.

With the bottle in hand, I strode straight toward Niall and Beatric-their embrace so tangled, so theatrical, it looked like a scene from a midday drama.

I raised the bottle and smashed it, with all my strength.

The glass shattered with a sharp crack. Niall's forehead split instantly, a thin line of blood tracing down between his brows.

Christina's POV

Beatrice screamed and leapt off his lap. "Christina?! Are you insane?! What are you doing here?!"

She scrambled to find a lie,"You're misunderstanding, it's not what you think-"

Niall cut her off, his hand gripping her arm."Don't bother explaining, Beatrice.It doesn't matter. Your parents will take our side. We're just correcting an old mistake."

Beatrice's panic instantly turned into smugness. She curled into his side and cooed, "Oh, honey, your head's bleeding. We have to get to the hospital."

Niall calmly took a tissue from one of his guards, dabbing at the blood on his forehead. "So now you know everything."

Before I could respond, Ysolde rushed forward, her hand raised to slap Beatrice. "You filthy bitch-"

Niall's hand shot out, gripping Ysolde's wrist brutally. His voice was ice-cold. "My woman isn't for some nobody from a backwater pack to insult. Playing the hero? Know your place."

My heart sank. Right. He was a powerful Alpha. I couldn't fight him head-on.

But I still had the glass shard in my hand.

I moved quickly, yanking Beatrice in front of me and pressing the jagged edge to her cheek. "Let go of my friend, or I'll make sure your woman's face matches her personality. After all, even with werewolf healing, scars still show, don't they?"

Niall's eyes flashed dangerously. "You wouldn't dare."

"You've been having an affair with my sister for four years behind my back," I said calmly. "How do you think it'll look when that story gets out? Not great for your reputation, I'd imagine."

Niall hesitated, then slowly released Ysolde's wrist.

The moment he let go, I sliced the glass across Beatrice's cheek.

She screamed.

"Now get your woman and get out."

--

As soon as they were gone, Ysolde dragged me out of the club.

"Chrissy... I'm so sorry. I had no idea they'd be there tonight. I didn't even know Beatrice was back." Ysolde's eyes were full of regret.

I gave a bitter laugh and shook my head."Neither did I. But I heard it loud and clear,they've been screwing around for a while. To them, I was just in the way."

"Those goddamn assholes!" Ysolde hissed through clenched teeth. "You should tell your parents. Let them know Beatrice isn't the perfect angel they think she is. What about Niall's parents? No way they'll tolerate a scandal like this."

I was quiet for a moment. Ysolde had a point-Niall's mother Louisa was the only person who had supported me. But he was her son. She wouldn't choose me over him. Not in the end.

And my parents?I let out a breath."You know better than anyone,they only care about Beatrice. No matter what I do, I'll never replace her."

Ysolde grabbed my shoulders, worry darkening her gaze. "So what now? You're just going to let them humiliate you?"

"Maybe." My voice dropped to a whisper, a weariness weighing it down. "Maybe if I accept it, it'll finally be over."

Suddenly, Ysolde's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, her brows knitting in frustration. "Chrissy, my agent just called. There's a last-minute ad shoot, I have to go now. Can you get home on your own?"

I nodded, managing a faint smile. "Go. Don't worry about me. I'll call when I get back."

After she left, I hailed a cab. Instinctively, I gave the driver my home address. But barely two minutes into the ride, a wave of suffocating pressure settled over me.

"Actually," I said, "take me to any bar. Preferably one where people go to forget their names, not celebrate them."

The driver barely shrugged.In Highrise City, heartbreak was just another traffic pattern.

Ten minutes later, I was sitting at the bar, working on my third whiskey sour. Maybe fourth. I'd lost count. The bartender kept giving me that "you should probably slow down" look, which I was completely ignoring.

"Another," I demanded, pushing my empty glass forward.

"Ma'am, maybe-" the bartender started.

"Did I stutter?" I cut him off, sliding my credit card across the counter like it was a weapon. "I'm trying to drown my sorrows, not baptize them."

The bartender sighed but obliged.

"That guy's right," a deep voice came from behind me. "Unless you want to wake up in a stranger's bed tonight?"

I turned, ready to snap at whoever dared interrupt-then froze.

It was him. The sexy neighbor.The one who'd helped me after I'd kicked his door by mistake, politely pointing out the right one.

Tonight he was dressed in an expensive suit, his hair slicked back, revealing striking features that would make Michelangelo weep with envy and beg to sculpt him.

"Well, look who it is," I slurred. "The Moon Goddess's envoy. Did she text you my GPS, or do you just have some built-in radar for women making terrible decisions?"

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm like expensive brandy."Let's just call it a finely tuned savior complex."

"You should've been Captain Rescue instead of an Alpha," I sighed dramatically. "Or maybe Don Juan, offering therapy sessions to every heartbroken woman in Highrise City."

"And here I thought you'd be signing up for the therapy sessions yourself," he said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"You offer your services to every neighbor?"

"Only to the ones who seem hell-bent on self-destruction at any given moment."

"Well, I'm basically a pro at that," I said, lifting my glass. "My life's basically glitter in a carpet-messy, impossible to clean up."

He didn't laugh, rush to comfort me, or even deny what I'd just said. He just watched me quietly, like a spectator observing a disaster movie.

"You're not wrong," he finally said. "Your talent for chaos is impressive. I was right to call you hurricane. You can barely stand, yet here you are, drinking more wine."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he continued, "But somehow you always seem to find someone who refuses to walk away...right when you're about to self-destruct completely."

"Are you flirting with me, Bad Alpha? Or is this some kind of weird rescue mission?" I narrowed my eyes.

His smile was slow, "Would either answer make you drink less?"

"Probably not," I admitted. "But one might make the hangover worth it."

I really looked at him then. He wasn't just good-looking. He was dangerous-looking. The kind that meant trouble and temptation, all wrapped in one.Not the pretty boys with trust funds and spray tans who populated most of Highrise's elite clubs.This was a man who knew exactly what he was and didn't need anyone's permission to be it.

Maybe it was the alcohol or his devastatingly handsome face. Either way, the thought that had been haunting me since the moment I first saw him slipped into my head again.

Before I could think better of it, my hand was on his arm.

"So, Mr. Helpful Neighbor," I said huskily "since you're so dedicated to intervention, why not intervene all the way?"

A flash of surprise, then he got serious. But he didn't pull away. Just held my gaze and said,"Only if you'll own this decision when you're sober."

"Trust me," I said without hesitation. "This is the first clear thought I've had all night."