Jenna POV:

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and despair.

Corbett had rushed Ivana to the pack hospital immediately after the "attack," claiming her delicate throat needed scanning. It gave me a window.

I wasn't packing clothes. I was packing my life's work.

In my studio stood the Essence Organ—tiered cedar shelving holding over five hundred vials of rare extracts. My father, the former Grand Healer, had built it. I carefully placed the vials into a shock-proof metal case.

My phone buzzed.

ALPHA CORBETT SPOTTED FEEDING SWEETS TO SISTER-IN-LAW. IS SHE THE TRUE LUNA?

The photo showed Corbett holding a spoon to Ivana's lips. He looked attentive. Gentle.

The front door slammed. He was back.

I slid the metal case under my workbench and smoothed my shirt. He was in the kitchen, placing a small white box on the granite island.

"How is she?" I asked, voice flat.

"Traumatized," he sighed. "But physically fine. No bruising."

Because I didn't touch her.

He pushed the white box toward me. "Macarons. From that bakery downtown. A peace offering."

I stared at the box. "I'm not hungry."

"Just eat one, Jenna. Please." He opened the box and picked up a green one. "Pistachio. Your favorite."

I froze.

"I'm allergic to pistachios, Corbett," I said quietly. "Anaphylactic."

He blinked. "What? No, Elenor was allergic to strawberries. You eat these all the time."

"Elenor loved pistachios," I corrected him. "I die if I eat them."

He frowned, genuinely confused. Three years, and he didn't know what killed me.

"You're being dramatic," he scoffed, holding the cookie out. "Just take a bite. Show me you accept my apology."

"Corbett, I can't—"

"Eat it."

His eyes flashed red. The Alpha tone laced his voice, grabbing my motor functions like a puppeteer. My hand shot out against my will, snatching the cookie. I tried to clench my jaw, but the Command pried it open.

I shoved the cookie into my mouth and bit down.

The taste was sweet, nutty, and instantly metallic.

The burning started before I could even spit it out.

I dropped the rest of the cookie. "Corbett..."

My throat began to close like a fist tightening inside my windpipe. I clawed at my neck.

Corbett rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop it. You barely swallowed a crumb."

I fell to my knees. This wasn't normal. It was too fast. My inner wolf let out a high-pitched scream.

Wolfsbane.

The macaron was laced.

"C-Cor...bett..." I gasped, face turning purple.

He finally looked at me. Really looked. Panic flickered. "Jenna?"

Suddenly, a shriek came from the living room. Ivana had followed him home.

"Corbett! I can't breathe! The trauma! It's coming back!" Ivana screamed, her voice perfectly clear and loud.

Corbett’s head snapped toward the living room. He looked at me, dying on the floor. Then toward the living room.

The choice took him less than a second.

"Hold on, Ivana! I'm coming!"

He stepped over me.

He physically stepped over my convulsing body.

I watched his back retreat. I listened to him cooing at her while I lay on the cold tiles, suffocating.

Not like this.

I dragged myself across the floor, fingernails scraping grout, reaching for my purse.

My EpiPen.

My fingers fumbled with the zipper. Open. Open, damn you.

I jammed it against my thigh and leaned my entire body weight onto it.

Click.

Adrenaline flooded my system. I gasped, a ragged, horrible sound, as a tiny sliver of air forced its way into my lungs.

I lay there, shivering, the taste of poison and betrayal heavy on my tongue. Corbett never came back.

Jenna POV:

The Wolfsbane made my limbs feel like lead. I dragged myself upright. My throat felt raw, like I’d swallowed broken glass.

My phone rang on the floor.

Husband.

I didn't answer. It rang again. I picked it up.

"Jenna?"

It was Ivana. Her voice dripped with false sweetness.

"Oh, good, you're alive," she said. "Corbett was worried. He wanted to call an ambulance, but I told him you were just attention-seeking. Again."

"You... poisoned... me," I rasped.

"Don't be silly. It was just a nut allergy. Or maybe you're just weak. Elenor would have shaken off a little Wolfsbane in minutes."

She knew.

"Where is he?"

"In the shower. Washing off your scent," she giggled. "He feels dirty after you made that scene."

I hung up.

I needed to leave. Now. But with the Wolfsbane in my system, if I tried to shift, my bones would break and never knit back together.

I stumbled toward the studio for my father's case.

The room was empty. The Essence Organ was gone.

"Looking for this?"

Corbett stood in the hallway, a towel wrapped around his waist. Clean. Unbothered.

"Where is it?" I demanded, leaning on the doorframe.

"I moved it to the guest house," he said casually. "Ivana has taken an interest in aromatherapy. Since you're obviously not using it for anything productive, I gave it to her."

The world tilted.

"You gave... my father's legacy... to her?"

"It's pack property. Besides, your father owed Elenor a debt. Consider this repayment."

"That is stealing," I whispered.

"It is reallocating resources," he corrected. "And stop wheezing. It's annoying."

He walked away.

I stood there, staring at the empty space.

Inside my mind, my wolf stopped pacing. She stopped whimpering. She sat down, turned her back to the mental image of Corbett, and went stone still.

The silence of a grave.

I walked back to my room. I reached under a loose floorboard and pulled out a velvet pouch. A single vial.

Wolfsbane Neutralizer. My father’s last invention.

I downed it.

Liquid fire exploded in my stomach. I curled onto the bed, biting my pillow to stifle the screams as the neutralizer hunted the toxins.

Corbett never came to check on me.

When the sun rose, I was weak, but clean. I looked in the mirror. The woman staring back was no longer a wife. She was a ghost.

And ghosts have nothing left to lose.

Jenna POV:

The next morning, I walked downstairs. The house smelled of rain—the heavy, ozone scent of a gathering storm.

Ivana was in the living room. She had set up a makeshift easel. Next to her sat a row of my father's vials. She was uncorking them, sniffing, and leaving them open.

"You're ruining them," I said.

Ivana jumped, knocking over a blue bottle.

Moon Rain.

My father distilled it for my eighteenth birthday. It was the only thing I had left that carried his scent.

Smash.

The blue liquid splattered the white rug. The smell of pine needles and pipe tobacco hit me instantly.

"Oops," Ivana said, smiling.

I dropped to my knees, hands frantically scooping at the soaked rug. "No, no, no." Glass sliced my palms. Blood mixed with the oil.

"It smelled like dirt anyway," Ivana sneered.

A growl ripped from my throat. Not human.

I looked up. My canines extended. My eyes shifted to glowing gold.

Ivana stumbled back. "Corbett! Help! She's shifting! She's going to kill me!"

Corbett was there in an instant. He saw me on the floor, bloody hands, bared teeth.

He didn't smell the grief. He only saw a threat to his precious charge.

"Stand down!" he bellowed.

He grabbed the back of my shirt and threw me. I crashed into the wall.

"You mad dog!" he spat. "Are you insane? Growling at a pack member?"

I held up my bleeding hands. "She broke it. She broke the Moon Rain."

"It's just perfume, Jenna! Look at you! You're bleeding all over the floor. You're unstable."

He stepped between me and Ivana, shielding her.

In werewolf culture, when a mate is injured, the instinct is to heal. To lick the wound. Corbett looked at my sliced palms and curled his lip in disgust.

"Clean yourself up," he said. "And clean this mess. If I find one shard of glass, you'll sleep in the cells."

He put an arm around Ivana. "Come. Let's go to the studio. The air here is toxic."

They walked away.

I sat against the wall. The pain in my chest was gone. The bond wasn't just broken. It was dead.

I stood up. I didn't clean the rug.

I went to the kitchen, wrapped my hands in paper towels, and walked out the back door to the garage. I grabbed the go-bag I’d hidden weeks ago. Inside was my passport and a vial of Scent Masking Agent.

I applied the agent. It smelled like nothing. It erased me.

Tonight was the Pack Charity Gala. Corbett expected me there.

I would go. But I wouldn't be the Jenna he knew.