“Bellamy, what right do you have to talk to me like this? Don’t forget—you’re living in my house, and I’m the one supporting you…” Jackson’s words rang through the room, sharp and dismissive.
I wanted to argue, to tell him that in our seven years together, we had always split expenses. That even after I left my job at his urging, I relied on my savings, not him. But before I could retort, the oven beeped, breaking the tense silence.
I slipped on gloves and pulled out the cake, the warm aroma doing nothing to calm the storm inside me.
Jackson’s gaze flickered to the cake. For a moment, his expression softened. “Is today… something important?”
I set the cake on the counter, not looking at him. “It’s the anniversary of my father’s death.”
There was a pause before Jackson finally spoke. “Oh… I didn’t realize.” His tone was casual, almost indifferent, as if it were a passing comment instead of something that had been tearing me apart all day.
I turned away, my hands trembling as I began to frost the cake.
My father’s death had always been a private agony, one Jackson never truly understood. He had been the only one who ever believed in me, even when I couldn’t shift, even when the pack whispered that I was a half-wolf. His faith in me had been unshakable.
But when he died, everything changed. The whispers grew louder. The pack ostracized me further. And in my grief, I clung to Jackson, who had promised to love me regardless of what I was or wasn’t.
Yet here I was, alone in my grief once again.
Jackson finally spoke, his voice forced into something resembling guilt. “I’ve been busy with pack matters lately. I’ll make it up to you. How about tomorrow we go and pick out something nice? Maybe a new necklace?”
I stayed silent, frosting the cake with slow, deliberate movements. He took my quiet as forgiveness and moved closer, placing candles on top. “Bellamy, don’t dwell on things. You know I care about you.”
I kept my eyes on the cake, my mind drifting to the birthday two years ago when I lost my baby. It had been the same story: Jackson nowhere to be found, his attention consumed by Charlie. That night, the pain started, and I knew something was wrong. He didn’t answer my calls. By the time he returned, hours later, it was too late.
He lit the candles, his face softening into the charming expression that had once fooled me. “Make a wish.”
I stared at the flickering flames. Every year before, my wish had been the same—to find happiness with Jackson, to belong. But this time, I wished for something else.
“I want to be free.”
I blew out the candles and looked up, but he was already gone. The door clicked shut behind him, and my heightened hearing caught faint whispers from the hall.
“Charlie fell,” a voice said. “She’s pregnant, Jackson. She needs you now.”
My chest tightened as I heard Jackson’s hurried footsteps fade.
The cake I had spent hours making now felt like an anchor, pulling me into the depths of my pain. Memories of that night two years ago flooded back—the blood, the searing loss, and the suffocating loneliness. He had promised me everything and given me nothing.
I shoved the cake to the side and stormed into the living room. My nails dug into the armrest of the sofa, carving deep grooves. I froze, staring at the marks.
This wasn’t the first time. Recently, I’d noticed other claw marks—on the bedframe, the walls. My body felt foreign, like it was no longer mine. My senses were sharper, my emotions more volatile.
Something was happening to me, and Jackson’s lies were no longer enough to suppress it.
Hours later, I found myself walking downstairs to the apartment Charlie claimed as her own. The door was ajar, and I stepped inside.
The scene was painfully familiar: Charlie lounging on the couch, surrounded by luxury, her soft voice calling for Jackson like a siren song.
When he noticed me, his expression hardened. “Bellamy, why are you here? Can’t you see Charlie’s not feeling well?”
Charlie gave me a pitying look, her hand resting protectively on her stomach. “Jackson, don’t be harsh. Bellamy’s probably just trying to help. It’s not her fault she doesn’t understand pack dynamics.”
“Enough,” Jackson snapped at me. “Clean up this place properly and then leave. I’m not mated to a jealous woman who can’t even get this right.”
I stood there, numb, as he helped Charlie to her feet and led her out.
Once they were gone, I looked around. The scent of Jackson and Charlie hung heavy in the air, mingling with the expensive perfumes that filled the room. My gaze landed on the trash bin, where two used condoms lay discarded.
The realization hit me like a blow. He had never been mine. Not truly. Not when Charlie was always waiting for him.
I returned to our den, the pressure of my humiliation and grief pressing down on me. As I sat in the empty room, my claws extended again, scratching faint marks into the floor. I stared at them, trembling, as the full moon’s light filtered through the window.
For years, I had been told I was less—an unshifting wolf, a broken woman. Jackson had been my lifeline, the only one who made me feel seen.
But now, I saw the truth. He had used my weaknesses to control me, to keep me small.
I wasn’t going to let him.
That night, I called Caleb, my childhood friend, who had left the pack years ago. After a few rings, he picked up, his voice groggy but warm. “Bellamy? Is everything okay?”
I held back my tears. “I was wrong, Caleb. I shouldn’t have stayed. I want to leave. I need to leave.”
There was a pause before he replied, “It’s about time.”
His words cut through my sorrow, offering a sliver of hope. He promised to help me, to give me a way out.
For the first time in years, I felt a spark of something I thought I’d lost—freedom.
But I wasn’t gone yet. Not yet.
For now, I stayed, waiting for the right moment to break free, as the wolf within me stirred, ready to awaken.
