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."

Jayde POV:

Five days left.

I went to "The Howl," a dive bar on the edge of territory. Stale beer and sawdust.

I ordered a shot of Wolfsbane Whiskey. Synthetic. Strong enough to knock a wolf on its ass.

I was three shots deep when the atmosphere shifted.

Brendan walked in with his elite guard. The room went quiet. Respect. Fear.

I shrank into the corner booth.

They took the center table.

"To the new Alpha!"

"And to the Luna!" a warrior shouted. "Chloie is a catch, boss. Strategic match."

Brendan swirled his drink. "Strategy is key. Love is for poets and humans. Wolves need bloodlines."

My glass cracked in my hand.

"What about the stepsister?" a warrior laughed. "Jayde? Is she still... you know?"

"Defective?" Brendan finished.

The word hung in the air like smoke.

"She's fine," Brendan said dismissively. "She's weak. Can't shift. Diluted blood. She'd break under the Pack Link in a week."

I stood up. I couldn't breathe.

I rushed toward the restrooms.

The men's room door opened. Brendan stepped out.

We collided.

Small hallway. No escape. My chest against his. His hands on my waist.

The alcohol lowered his barriers. His scent exploded-thunderstorm, ozone, raw power.

His pupils blew wide, swallowing the grey.

Mate, his wolf roared. I felt the vibration in his chest.

He leaned down, nose brushing my pulse point. He inhaled, shuddering.

"Jayde," he groaned, voice rough. "You smell like..."

"Like what?" I whispered. "Like a defect?"

He froze.

His hands tightened, bruisingly hard. The man warred with the beast.

"Brendan?"

Chloie's voice cracked the whip.

She stood at the end of the hall.

Brendan ripped himself away, stumbling back. The gold faded from his eyes, replaced by steel walls.

"I... I tripped," he stammered. "Jayde was helping me."

Chloie narrowed her eyes. She sniffed the air. She smelled the pheromones.

She looped her arm through his. "Let's go, baby. Cheap whiskey makes you confused."

She shot me a look of pure venom.

"Go home, Jayde," Brendan commanded, looking at the floor.

They walked out.

I followed a minute later. It was raining again.

Outside, Brendan held an umbrella over Chloie, getting soaked himself to keep her dry.

He looked up and saw me shivering under the awning.

He hesitated. For a second, he looked like he wanted to cross the distance.

"Bren, come on. I'm cold," Chloie whined.

He got in the car.

The taillights faded into the red mist.

My Inner Wolf, who had been screaming for him, suddenly went quiet.

We are done, she said. He is dead to us.