Valeria’s stilettos echoed down the corridor, each sharp click fading until I was left alone with nothing but the crushing aftermath of her words. My hands braced against the marble vanity, fingers digging into the cold stone as if it were the only thing keeping me upright. When I lifted my head, the mirror caught my reflection—and for a heartbeat, I didn’t recognize the she-wolf staring back.
The soft golden lights overhead carved shadows beneath my eyes, hollowing my face. I looked older. Smaller. Like someone who had just lost a war she hadn’t known she was fighting.
Seven years.
Seven years spent in that bed.
I remembered the first night he’d pulled me into his arms, his wolf’s warmth curling around mine as he murmured that I was safe with him. The countless lazy mornings after—sunlight spilling across silk sheets, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve of my shoulder while we talked about nothing and everything.
My stomach twisted violently.
Tuesday.
While I’d been hunched over my camera at a workshop, obsessing over f-stops and shutter speed, imagining photographing our mating ceremony someday… he’d been betraying me.
The nausea surged hard and fast. I barely made it to the toilet before gagging, my body convulsing even though nothing came up. Just dry heaves, sharp and humiliating, tearing through my chest until my ribs ached.
I rested my forehead against the cool countertop, breathing shallowly, fighting the sting behind my eyes.
Not here.
Not now.
I refused to let tears fall in this place—not where pack elites and social climbers lurked just beyond the door, waiting to feast on weakness. I wouldn’t give Valeria the satisfaction of smeared mascara and proof she’d broken me.
Our bed.
The bed I’d saved months of wages to dress in imported silk because Nathaniel once said he loved how it felt against his skin. He’d taken her there on purpose. Desecrated it. Turned something sacred into something filthy.
My reflection trembled.
Slowly, deliberately, I smoothed my palms down my dress. I adjusted my hair. I drew in steady breaths until my lungs stopped shaking. The tears still burned, but I locked them away.
Later.
I would fall apart later.
Seven years erased in a single afternoon, soaked into silk sheets.
When I stepped back into the dining room, my legs felt numb, as though they no longer belonged to me. Somehow, they carried me forward anyway. Nathaniel and Valeria sat opposite one another at a long table draped in crisp white linen, steam curling from porcelain bowls between them.
They looked flawless.
A perfect Alpha pair.
My wolf whimpered softly in my chest.
I took the empty seat beside Nathaniel. The moment I sat, his body went rigid—jaw tightening, shoulders stiffening as though my presence alone offended him.
The air grew heavy.
Valeria’s painted mouth curved into a subtle, triumphant smile—gone in an instant the moment Nathaniel glanced her way. Her expression collapsed into something fragile and wounded, eyes shimmering as if she’d been wronged beyond measure.
My nails bit into my palm.
Nathaniel’s voice shattered the silence.
“What the hell is your problem?” he snapped.
I blinked, stunned. “What are you talking about?”
His hand slammed against the table, rattling silverware and drawing gasps from nearby guests. “Don’t act clueless. How dare you say something so vile to Valeria—especially about her mother?”
The words didn’t register at first. “I… what?” I whispered. “I didn’t say anything about—”
“Enough.” His eyes burned with fury. “She told me exactly what you said in the restroom. I always knew you were insecure, but this? Attacking someone whose mother just died? That’s disgusting.”
My head spun.
Valeria lifted a napkin to her eyes, shoulders trembling, grief incarnate. Nathaniel stared at me like I was something rotten dragged in from the street.
This was the same man who had kissed me goodnight hours ago. The same man who had sworn his wolf chose mine.
Seven years vanished in the face of her tears.
Around us, conversations died. Forks hovered midair. Whispers rippled through the room like a spreading infection. Heat crawled up my neck, shame sinking its claws into my spine.
Valeria placed a delicate hand over her heart. “Nathaniel, please… it’s alright. I know she’s struggling.” Her voice shook just enough to sound sincere. “Let’s not make this uncomfortable for everyone.”
The sweetness in her tone made my skin crawl.
Before I could stop myself, the words tore free. “Stop it.” My voice cracked. “Just stop pretending. I’m sick of your fake tears.”
The sound of skin meeting skin cracked through the room.
Pain exploded across my cheek.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My fingers lifted shakily to the spot where his hand had struck me, the sting blazing—but it was nothing compared to the way my chest caved inward.
Valeria gasped theatrically. “Oh—oh no.” She stood abruptly. “I can’t stay here. I need air.”
“Valeria—wait!” Nathaniel was already on his feet, chair crashing backward as he rushed after her.
He didn’t look back.
Not once.
I was left seated alone beneath dozens of judging stares, my face burning, my wolf curled into itself in shock.
---
I don’t remember how I got out of the penthouse.
Only that the night air slapped against my skin, cool and sharp against my throbbing cheek. A taxi slowed nearby and I flagged it down, collapsing into the backseat the moment the door shut.
“Address?” the driver asked.
I gave it, then leaned my head against the window.
The city blurred past in streaks of light as sobs finally tore loose. They came hard and fast, wracking my body until I could barely breathe.
Nine years ago, I’d run from fists and snarled threats, from a house filled with fear. I’d sworn never to let another man break me.
And yet here I was.
Crying in the back of a cab because I’d trusted the wrong Alpha.
No more.
I scrubbed my tears away with my sleeve. I was done being fragile. Done shrinking. Done letting men like Nathaniel Reed rip me apart.
My phone felt heavier than usual as I pulled it from my bag. My thumb hovered, scrolling until one name stopped me cold.
Alaric.
My brother.
The same number he’d had the night I fled. I’d never erased it—only lacked the courage to call.
The Alpha who had shielded me with his own body. Who had taken every blow meant for me until I couldn’t bear to watch anymore.
My vision blurred again.
Before fear could stop me, I pressed call.
The line rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then it connected.
Silence stretched between us, thick with nine years of absence.
Finally, a voice—deep, steady, achingly familiar.
“…Mara?”
