Jayde POV:

Fifteen days.

Every morning, I slashed a red X through the calendar. It looked like a wound.

My room was a graveyard of cardboard boxes.

I picked up a grey hoodie. Brendan's old lacrosse gear. He gave it to me when I had the flu three years ago.

I buried my nose in it. Rainwater. Pine. And the deep, musky scent of a powerful male.

Keep it, my wolf begged. Smells like Home.

"No," I whispered. "It smells like a lie."

I shoved it into a heavy-duty hunter's bag-the kind meant to mask raw meat-and sealed it. Double-bagged. I had to quarantine his scent.

I turned to my journal.

Entry 45: Brendan showed me how to breathe today...

Entry 102: He gave me the last pancake.

Pathetic. A record of a girl haunting a man who didn't exist.

I tossed the journal into the metal trash can and struck a match. The paper curled, words turning to ash.

A knock made me jump.

"Jayde?"

I kicked the trash can into the closet.

Chloie Ellis stood in the doorway, wearing a smile that didn't reach her calculating blue eyes.

"Gift for you," she said, holding a velvet box. "Since I'm moving into the master suite, wanted to clear the air."

She pushed past me, wrinkling her nose at the boxes. "Going somewhere?"

"Donating old junk," I lied.

"Charitable." She popped the box open. A delicate bracelet.

Silver.

Pure, gleaming, wolf-burning silver.

"Designer piece," Chloie said, her voice dripping with fake sugar. "I know you have... trouble with your wolf side. Since you can't shift, maybe you won't be as sensitive. It would look cute on your pale wrist."

She knew exactly what she was doing. It was a power play.

"I can't wear that, Chloie."

"Nonsense."

Brendan appeared in the doorway, sweat glistening on his collarbone from a workout. His scent hit me like a physical blow.

"What is this?"

"Friendship bracelet," Chloie pouted. "But she's refusing it."

Brendan looked at the silver, then at me. His eyes were cold, devoid of the warmth he reserved for her.

"Put it on, Jayde."

My blood ran cold. "Brendan, it's silver."

"I know what it is," he said, his voice dropping into that command tone that made my knees water. "You need to toughen up. You act like a fragile human. Build a tolerance. Stop flinching at jewelry."

"It will burn me."

"Quit acting like it's kryptonite," he snapped. "Do not be ungrateful to your future Luna. Put. It. On."

The Alpha Command slammed into me. My hand moved against my will.

I clasped the cold metal around my wrist.

Ssssss.

Like bacon hitting a hot skillet.

White-hot agony seared a ring into my flesh. The smell of singed hair and cooking skin wafted up.

I bit my lip until I tasted copper.

"See?" Chloie clapped. "Beautiful."

Brendan watched. For a micro-second, his nostrils flared as he smelled my pain. A flicker of regret? Maybe. But then he looked at Chloie's beaming face, and the wall slammed back down.

"Thanks," I choked out.

"You're welcome." Chloie grabbed his arm. "Come on, Bren. Wedding colors."

The second they were gone, I ripped the bracelet off and hurled it across the room.

A red, blistered welt circled my wrist.

He hurt us, my wolf cried.

"He's a monster," I sobbed into the silence.

Jayde POV:

The walls were thick, but wolf hearing is a curse.

I spent the night listening to the master suite down the hall. Giggles. The heavy thud of the mattress. The sounds of him loving her.

I buried my head under two pillows and hummed until my throat hurt.

Morning came. I felt like a ghost haunting my own life.

I went for coffee. Black. Like my mood.

Chloie walked in wearing nothing but Brendan's shirt. It hung to her mid-thighs.

"Morning, Jayde," she yawned, stretching like a well-fed cat. "Storm was loud last night, huh?"

She knew.

"Slept like a log," I deadpanned.

Brendan walked in, buttoning his shirt, radiating fresh energy.

"I need the itinerary," Chloie said, hopping onto the counter.

"Front and center," Brendan said, grabbing an apple. He avoided my eyes.

I gripped my mug. "I need to go to the admin office. Renew my travel permit."

Brendan finally looked at me, his gaze snagging on the leather cuff covering my burn. He frowned. "Why?"

"Just in case."

"Don't go near the neutral zones," Brendan warned. "Rogue activity is up. I can't spare warriors to fetch a single wolf right before the coronation."

Translation: You aren't worth the effort.

"I know how to run," I said.

"That's all you know how to do," Chloie muttered. "Maybe find a nice Beta boy while you're out. Someone... safe. Someone who doesn't need a real wolf."

The temperature in the kitchen plummeted.

Brendan stopped chewing. A low growl vibrated in his chest-involuntary, possessive.

"She doesn't need a mate," he snapped. "She needs to focus on her duties."

"Just saying," Chloie shrugged. "Tick tock."

I slammed my mug down. "I'm going."

I walked into the pouring rain. I needed it to wash the smell of that kitchen off me.

I reached the town square. The massive digital Pack Bulletin Board was flashing.

OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT

Brendan and Chloie. Looking regal. Looking in love.

Date: The Night of the Blood Moon.

My leaving date.

My phone buzzed. Then my head started to ring.

Congratulations, Alpha!

Long live the Luna!

The Mind-Link. The pack was pouring their joy into the collective web. It was a cacophony of happiness that felt like nails on a chalkboard.

Jayde?

Brendan's voice cut through the noise.

Jayde, where are you? You're blocking your location.

I closed my eyes. I visualized the silver cord connecting me to the pack.

And I severed it.

I built a mental brick wall. I shut them out. I shut him out.

The silence was sudden and absolute.

I wish you happiness, Alpha, I whispered to the rain. Because you destroyed mine.

Jayde POV:

The silence in my head was a relief.

Disconnecting from the Mind-Link was rebellion. It was for traitors and ghosts.

Ten days left.

I carried a black trash bag toward the incinerator. Inside were my childhood treasures. Stuffed animals. Dried flowers. And a wind chime made of small bones.

Brendan had made it for me when he was fourteen. His first kill. He'd drilled the holes himself.

So you can hear the music of the hunt, he'd said.

Now, it was dead weight.

I rounded the corner and slammed into a hard chest.

"Whoa."

Brendan steadied me. Sparks-the Mate Bond-zapped my skin through my sleeves.

He pulled back like he'd been burned.

"Watch it," he grumbled. He looked stressed. The Alpha weight was heavy.

"Sorry."

"What's that?" He nodded at the bag.

"Trash. Cleaning out my closet."

"Finally getting rid of that hoarding pile?"

Hoarding pile.

"Yes."

He grabbed the bag. "I'm heading past the chutes."

"No!" I reached for it.

"Don't be ridiculous."

He opened the industrial hatch and tossed it in.

Crunch.

The compactor activated. The sound of shattering bone and snapping string echoed up the shaft.

My wind chime. Crushed into a cube of garbage.

Brendan dusted his hands off. He didn't know. He didn't care.

"Mother wants you in the ballroom. Seating arrangements."

I stared at the closed hatch. Something inside me finally broke.

"I can't."

"Excuse me?" The Alpha tone crept back in.

"I don't care where they sit," I said, meeting his eyes. "I don't care about the napkins or the flowers or your damn coronation."

Brendan stepped closer, looming. "Watch your tone, Omega. You will serve."

"Serve," I repeated. "That's it, isn't it? I'm a prop."

"You are family," he growled. "Stop acting like a victim. You have food. You have my protection."

"Your protection?" I laughed, a dry, hollow sound. "You just threw my protection down a garbage chute."

Confusion flickered in his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing." I stepped back.

"Jayde," he called out as I turned. "Chloie says you've been... distant. Disrespectful."

"Chloie says a lot of things."

"Be nice to her. She is going to be your Queen."

"She's your Queen, Brendan," I whispered from the shadows. "Not mine."