Eliana POV:
My room looked like a skeleton. The furniture was still there, but the soul of the room was gone. Boxes were taped shut, stacked by the door.
I had confirmed my enrollment online an hour ago. My parents, bless them, hadn't asked questions. When I told them I needed to leave immediately, Dad simply called the movers and Mom started looking for apartments in Manhattan. They were resigning from their positions in the pack council tomorrow morning.
We were becoming Rogues. Well, civilized Rogues. City wolves.
I stood in the center of the room with a bundle of sage and dried wolfsbane—just a tiny amount, enough to irritate the nose but not harm.
I lit it. The smoke curled up, acrid and bitter.
I walked around the room, wafting the smoke into every corner, over every piece of furniture I was leaving behind. It was an old ritual, usually used to cleanse a house of bad spirits.
I was using it to scrub my scent.
I didn't want Jax to walk in here and smell vanilla or lavender or whatever I smelled like to him. I wanted him to smell nothing. I wanted him to smell the void.
My phone buzzed on the floor. I picked it up.
It was a notification from Pack Net, our private social media app.
Jax Little posted a photo.
I shouldn't have looked. I really shouldn't have. But my thumb hovered, and I tapped it.
It was a selfie. Jax and Catalina. She was wearing a diamond necklace—a heavy, gaudy thing with the North Gate crest in the center.
The caption read: *My Queen. #FutureLuna #PowerCouple*
I touched my own neck. It was bare. Jax had never given me jewelry. He said it was dangerous for training, that it would get caught on things. He gave me practical gifts. Running shoes. Water bottles.
But for her? Diamonds.
He wasn't protecting me. He just didn't think I was worth decorating.
I scrolled down to the comments.
*She's so much hotter than the other one.*
*Finally, an Alpha female.*
*Bye bye, Omega Ellie.*
I felt a tear slide down my cheek. Just one. It was hot and angry.
"Okay," I whispered to the empty room. "You want me gone? I'm gone."
I sat down on the bare mattress. I closed my eyes and went inward, searching for the bond. It was a thick, golden cord in my mind, stretching out into the darkness, pulsating with a dull ache.
I couldn't cut it. Only a rejected mate or death could sever it completely. But I could bury it.
I imagined building a fortress around that cord. Stone by stone. Iron by iron. I poured all my pain, my humiliation, and my rage into the mortar.
*I don't feel you,* I chanted in my head. *I don't need you. You are a stranger.*
The pulsing slowed. The ache dulled until it was just a background hum, like white noise.
I opened my eyes. I felt lighter. Hollow, but lighter.
The door opened. My dad stood there, holding two suitcases.
"Ready, kiddo?" he asked gently.
"Yeah, Dad," I said. "I'm ready."
I grabbed my backpack. I didn't look back at the room. I didn't look back at the house.
We got into the car. As we drove past the "Welcome to North Gate" sign, I rolled down the window.
I took a deep breath of the cool night air, letting the scent of pine and earth fill my lungs one last time.
Then I exhaled.
I was leaving the territory. I was leaving the hierarchy. I was leaving the girl who waited for a boy to love her.
New York was waiting. And whoever I was going to become, she wouldn't be an Omega.
*
