Kelsey POV

The invitation arrived by courier, demanding attention before I even opened it.

It was heavy, cream-colored cardstock embossed with gold leaf lettering.

*You are cordially invited to a Private Viewing at the Musee d'Orsay. A gesture of peace and appreciation from Alpha Bennett Randolph.*

A handwritten note was clipped to the formal stationery.

*I remember how much you loved the Impressionists. Please. Let me make it up to you. Just one evening. - B.*

I shouldn't go.

My brain screamed at me to burn it, to watch the gold lettering curl into ash.

But curiosity is a dangerous thing. It is a poison that tastes like hope. A small, treacherous part of me wanted to see him. I wanted to see if the regret I had sensed in his letters was real.

So, I treated the evening like a battle.

I dressed in a sleek black dress that hugged curves I had spent years hiding under modest Luna robes. I put on red lipstick—a shade dark enough to look like a warning.

The museum was closed to the public. It was silent, echoing with the ghosts of history and the faint hum of climate control.

Bennett was standing near a Monet, staring into the blurred strokes of a water lily pond. He looked thinner. His arm was in a sling.

"Kelsey," he breathed when he saw me.

For a second, his eyes lit up. It was genuine warmth, familiar and heartbreaking.

"Bennett," I said, keeping my distance. "Why am I here?"

"I wanted to show you I care," he said, stepping closer, his voice thick with emotion. "I wanted to give you a memory that wasn't... painful. I rented the wing. Just for us."

The air shifted.

The cloying scent of vanilla drifted in, choking out the smell of old oil paint.

"And it was such a brilliant idea," a voice cooed.

Aria stepped out from behind a statue. She was wearing a white gown that looked suspiciously like a wedding dress, the fabric pooling around her like spilled milk.

She linked her arm through Bennett's good one, staking her claim.

"Didn't he do a good job?" Aria beamed at me. "I told him, 'Bennett, poor Kelsey loves old paintings. We should do something nice for her before we officially take over.'"

My blood ran cold.

"You... you planned this?" I looked at Bennett.

\He looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight, but he nodded. "Aria thought it would be a good closure. She organized the catering. She picked the flowers."

"And look!" Aria clapped her hands. "I found this in your old room. Bennett said I should give it to you."

She pulled a velvet box from her purse. Inside was the sapphire necklace Mark had mentioned. The one for blue eyes.

"It's a parting gift," Aria smiled, her teeth white and predatory. "Since you're just a guest in our story now."

I looked at Bennett. He was letting her do this. He was letting her take credit for his apology, twisting it into an act of pity.

"You really are a puppet," I whispered, the realization settling in my chest like a stone.

"Kelsey, don't be rude," Bennett frowned, the warmth in his eyes replaced by confusion. "Aria is trying to be kind."

"Kind?" I laughed, a harsh sound that bounced off the high ceilings. "She's marking her territory, Bennett. And you're just the fire hydrant."

I turned around, my heels clicking sharply on the floor.

"Enjoy the art," I called over my shoulder. "It's the only thing real in this room."

I walked out into the Paris night. I didn't cry. I didn't shake.

I felt nothing but a profound, icy clarity.

He was gone. The boy I loved was dead.

Kelsey POV

I was in the middle of packing my suitcase when the pain hit.

It wasn't like before. This wasn't a snap, or a dull ache. This was a detonation inside my skull.

I fell to my knees, clutching my head as the world tilted sideways. My vision blurred, swimming in black spots.

*Intruders! The Heart! Defend!*

The mental scream wasn't from Bennett. It was a cacophony—the collective, terrified consciousness of the Silver Crest Pack screaming in unison. The Rogues were back. And this time, they had shattered the perimeter and breached the inner sanctum.

My phone lit up on the floor beside me. A notification from Aria.

My trembling fingers opened the photo.

It was Bennett. He was unconscious, slumped against a wall and bleeding heavily. But the focus of the photo wasn't his wounds. It was the braided leather cord around his neck.

Aria's caption glowed beneath it:

*Even in death, he wears my protection. You were never his, Kelsey. You were just a placeholder.*

Rage flooded my veins.

It wasn't directed at Aria. It was at myself. For holding on. For hoping. For being so incredibly stupid.

*Kelsey...*

Bennett's voice drifted through the Mind-Link, weak, fading into static. *Help me...*

I closed my eyes, shutting out his plea.

I reached into the deepest part of my mind, where the bond was rooted. It didn't look like a golden thread anymore. It was a thick, black root now, rotting and poisonous, festering in my soul.

*No,* I whispered.

I grabbed the root with my mental hands. My Inner Wolf snarled, lending me her strength, her desire for freedom matching my own.

*I reject you,* I screamed into the void of our shared connection. *I reject the pain. I reject the duty. I reject YOU!*

I pulled.

It was agony. It felt like tearing a limb from my body without anesthesia. A scream ripped from my throat, echoing off the tiled walls of the small apartment.

*SNAP.*

The silence that followed was deafening. It was absolute.

The pain vanished instantly. The connection was gone. I couldn't feel his fear. I couldn't feel the pack's panic. The static was gone. I was alone.

And I was free.

I stood up, trembling uncontrollably. I walked to the bathroom and threw up until my stomach was empty. Then, shaking, I washed my face with freezing cold water.

My phone buzzed again.

Aria: *We survived. He's hurt, but he's mine. The pack hates you for not answering the call. You're exiled, Kelsey.*

I didn't even reply.

I took the SIM card out of my phone and dropped it into the toilet. I flushed it, watching my old life swirl away.

I grabbed my bag.

"Sophie," I said into the burner phone I had bought days ago.

"I'm leaving Paris."

"Where are you going?" her voice crackled on the other end.

"South," I said, staring at the door. "Somewhere the sun shines. Somewhere there are no wolves."

I walked to the train station, keeping my head down. I bought a one-way ticket to Provence.

As the train pulled away, picking up speed against the rhythm of the tracks, I looked at my reflection in the dark window.

The hazel in my eyes was gone.

They were molten silver now.

The White Wolf had fully awakened.