Brooke POV:

Two weeks later. Phoenix City airport. Glass, steel, and freedom.

I pushed my mother's wheelchair.

"Watch out!"

I collided with a solid wall of muscle.

Zzzzt!

Static electricity shot through my arms.

I looked up. Dark hair, eyes like molten gold. Cedar wood split open in a thunderstorm.

My lungs expanded. My inner wolf purred.

Mine.

The man froze. "You," he breathed.

I pulled away. "I'm sorry."

He looked at my mother. Instead of disgust, he knelt.

He signed. Are you hurt, Elder?

My mother gasped. No. Thank you, Alpha.

He stood up. "I am Dominic Cannon. Alpha of the Phoenix Pack."

"I know who you are." Easton's rival.

"You have a powerful spirit," Dominic said. "But it is sleeping. Why?"

"I'm just an Omega."

"I don't see an Omega. I see a survivor. And the 'Ghost Designer' behind Spencer's success."

My eyes widened.

"I see everything," he smiled. "I need a Lead Tactician. Someone who understands war. Come work for me."

"I have baggage. Dangerous baggage."

"I like danger." He handed me a black phone. "Encrypted. You are under my protection."

I took it. The spark jumped again.

"Okay," I said.

Dominic grinned. "Welcome home, Brooke."

As we walked away, I caught my reflection. My eyes flashed white.

Easton POV:

The amusement park was a sensory nightmare.

"Easton! Look at this!" Kelly squealed.

My chest had ached for three weeks. A dull, hollow throb. The pills didn't work.

My Inner Wolf was silent. Not calm-catatonic.

We walked past a gift shop. Plush unicorns.

Memory hit me. Brooke, two years ago, staring at a window like this. Her eyes lighting up, then dimming as she remembered she wasn't allowed to ask for things.

"I want them," I said.

"The bear?"

"No. The unicorns. All of them."

I bought fifty stuffed unicorns. I didn't know why. A desperate, clawing need.

In the car, I checked my phone. "Wife".

I tried the Mind-Link .

Usually, I felt a wall. Resistance.

Now... Void. Infinite darkness. The bond wasn't blocked. It was gone.

Panic spiked.

"Easton, listen to me!" Kelly whined. "I want to go to Le Pierre ."

I looked at her. Makeup caked like plaster. Scent like chemical roses.

"Fine," I muttered.

I put the phone away. I should delete her number.

My thumb hovered. Trembling. I couldn't do it.

Easton POV:

Le Pierre .

"I want the spicy lamb," Kelly barked. "Extra chili oil."

The waiter looked pained.

I sat staring at my water. The headache felt like rot inside my skull.

When the food arrived, the chili fumes assaulted my heightened senses. I coughed.

"What's wrong?" Kelly asked.

"Too strong."

I remembered Brooke's cooking. Always mild. Always protein-rich. She knew my nose was sensitive without me ever saying a word.

"This waiter is useless," Kelly snapped her fingers. "Hey! You!"

The entitlement grated against my soul.

"Stop it," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"I said stop it!" I slammed my hand down. Wine glass shattered.

Silence.

"You are rude. You are selfish. You don't know anything about me!"

"We have a 99% match!"

"That's a number on a screen! You don't know what I eat. You don't know me !"

I flipped the table. Plates crashed. A symphony of destruction.

I stormed out.

My phone rang. The lawyer.

"Mr. Spencer. The divorce decree is final."

"Already?"

"Ms. Rollins signed everything. She waived all alimony. She just wanted the name removed."

Nothing. She wanted nothing.

I drove home to the dark villa. It smelled of stale air. A tomb.

Text from Kelly: Baby, come back! I'm sorry!

Nausea.

I sat on the stairs, alone in a mansion, feeling utterly poor.