POV: Chloe

The Pack House was silent. The bass from the party was a distant thrum, a heartbeat I no longer wanted to be part of.

I walked straight to the office I shared with Ethan.

On the desk lay the lifeblood of the pack. The expansion plans. The blueprints for the Moon Goddess Garden. My designs. My work.

I sat at the computer. I didn't burn the hard drive; that was amateur hour. I initiated a secure wipe of the cloud backups and reformatted the local server. Ten years of financial strategies, negotiation contacts, and legal loopholes-gone. Intellectual property of an unpaid consultant.

I walked up the stairs. I stopped at the hallway cabinet, a custom piece I'd ordered because Ethan's back hurt when he bent too low.

"Ugly thing," a voice sneered.

Ashley leaned against the Alpha Suite doorframe.

"It's cheap wood," she continued. "I'm going to have it burned. Everything here smells like... mediocrity."

"Where is Ethan?"

"Shower," she smiled, showing too many teeth. "Washing off the smell of you."

She opened the door. His shirt on the floor. My bed. My sheets.

"Enjoy them," I said. "Thread count is terrible."

I went to the guest room-my room. One suitcase. Jeans. Sketchbook. Mom's locket. I left every dress he bought me. I wouldn't wear his livery anymore.

Downstairs, a few warriors watched me leave.

"Luna Chloe?" one asked.

"Just Chloe."

I stepped onto the porch. The rain had stopped. The air smelled of asphalt and freedom.

I closed my eyes and reached into the mental space where the Pack connection lived. A hum. A hive mind.

I found the thread connecting me to Silver Creek. It was frayed, worn thin by neglect.

I grabbed it with my mind and pulled. It felt like tearing a suture out of raw skin.

Snap.

Silence. Absolute, terrifying, beautiful silence.

I was Rogue.

POV: Chloe

Being Rogue isn't romantic. It's exposure.

I sat on a park bench in the city center, shivering in the damp air. 2:00 AM.

A growl from the alley. Rotting meat. Unwashed fur.

Three men stepped out. Eyes glowing sickly yellow. Low-levels. Scavengers.

"Fresh stray," one hissed. "Smells like house pet."

I stood, gripping my suitcase. "Back off." My voice trembled. I couldn't shift. I'd never been able to. My wolf was a ghost in my own body.

"Soft," another laughed. "Unclaimed."

One lunged.

I swung my suitcase. It bounced off his chest like a pillow. He grabbed my arm, claws tearing through my sweater.

"Hey!"

A beam of light. A human security guard, flashlight raised.

"Leave the lady alone!"

The Rogues hissed. Police meant Council attention. They scattered like roaches.

I collapsed onto the bench. My arm stung. My pride stung more.

I pulled out my phone. One number.

Sarah.

Sarah was a high-ranking Beta at Obsidian Moon. My college roommate before I dropped out to play housewife.

"Chloe?" Her voice was thick with sleep.

"I left him. 5th and Main. Rogues."

"Stay put." Her tone shifted instantly. Beta Command. It grounded me. "I'm coming."

Twenty minutes later, a black SUV screeched up. Sarah jumped out, looking ready to murder someone.

She hugged me until my ribs popped. Then she pulled back, sniffing.

"Goddess, Chloe. You smell like wet dog and bad decisions. And him."

"I have nowhere to go."

"Get in. Grand Hotel. Neutral ground. High thread count. No ex-boyfriends allowed."

In the hotel suite, Sarah cleaned my scratches.

"You look terrible," she said bluntly. "Malnourished. Dull coat. Being his Omega drained you."

"I'm not an Omega," I whispered. "I just... don't work right."

"Your wolf is fine, she's just bored," Sarah said. "You have a brain. That's more than Ethan has."

She tucked me in.

"Rest. Tomorrow, we fix this."

"How?"

Sarah smiled, sharp and dangerous. "The Obsidian Moon Gala is tomorrow. The Lycan King is in town. Ethan will be there."

"So?"

"So, you're going too. And you're not going to be serving the drinks."

POV: Chloe

I woke up to my phone vibrating off the nightstand.

15 Missed Calls: Ethan.

I played the voicemail.

"Chloe, pick up. I can't access the offshore accounts. What's the password for the Cayman shell company? The contractors are threatening to walk."

"Stop playing games. Ashley wants to know where the hell you filed the blueprints."

"This is an Alpha Command! Answer me!"

My stomach cramped. Not fear. Disgust. He didn't miss me. He missed his admin.

"Pathetic," Sarah said, handing me coffee. "Delete it."

"I can't just-"

"He is nothing. You severed the link. His command is just noise now."

She tossed a bag onto the bed.

"Get up. It's war paint time."

The afternoon was a blur of exfoliation and hair dye. They chopped my mousy hair into a sharp, architectural bob. Dark chocolate. Severe.

"You were hiding," Sarah said. "Today, you hunt."

The dress wasn't grey. It was red. Blood red. Velvet. Backless.

"It's too much," I said.

"It's a power move. Every Alpha is going to be there kissing the Lycan King's ring. Ethan will be there trying to look important."

We walked into the convention center. The air was heavy with Alpha auras, a pressure cooker of testosterone.

I saw him immediately. Ethan, near the bar, nursing a whiskey. Ashley clung to him like a barnacle, wearing white, trying too hard to look virginal.

My phone buzzed. Text from Ethan.

If you aren't back by midnight to unlock the server, I'm calling the Council to report you as a runaway.

I looked at him across the room. He was texting threats while smiling at a donor.

"Ready?" Sarah asked.

"No," I said. "But let's ruin his night anyway."