"Annette! Oh my god, yes!" Jillian's voice crackled with excitement over the phone. "The pediatric nurse position is still open! You'd be perfect! But… Greyson. Will he let you go?" There was a hint of apprehension in her tone.
I let out a bitter laugh. "Let me go? He'll probably throw a party. He'll be relieved to be rid of me. And Karter, too, apparently." The words tasted like ash. After all those years, the casual discard still stung.
A few days later, Greyson came home early. He walked in, his usual swagger replaced by a subtle shift in his demeanor. A flicker of something in his eyes, perhaps a hint of guilt, or maybe just confusion at my sudden silence.
He saw Karter, playing quietly with his toy cars in the living room. "Hey, champ," he said, his voice softer than usual. "Want to do some combat training? I can teach you some advanced moves."
Karter, without looking up, just shook his head. "No, thank you, Daddy. I have my own training schedule." His voice was flat, devoid of the usual childish eagerness.
Greyson's brow furrowed. "Oh. Well, I know some really cool techniques. Secret Ranger moves. You'd be the best warrior in the whole town!" He tried again, a forced enthusiasm in his voice.
Karter finally looked up, his small face serious. "I want to be a healer, Daddy. Not a warrior. I'm already training my mind, thank you." He went back to his cars, dismissing Greyson with a quiet finality.
Greyson's hand, which had been poised to ruffle Karter's hair, slowly dropped to his side. The rejection hung in the air, thick and palpable. He stood there for a moment, looking lost, then sighed.
He turned to me, a forced smile on his face. He held out a small, wrapped box. "Annette. I… I got you something."
My eyes narrowed. It was a delicate silver necklace, with a small, intricate wolf pendant. I recognized it instantly. It was the exact same design Kennedy had been flaunting for weeks. A leftover. A consolation prize.
"You really think I want your leftovers?" I asked, my voice cold, hard. "You give Kennedy the original, and you expect me to be grateful for the copy?" I didn't even touch it.
I took Karter's hand, his small fingers warm in mine. I was wearing an old, faded red dress. A dress Greyson had always hated, one he had forbidden me from wearing. He wanted me in muted colors, in the background, a shadow. But today, I wore the brightest red I owned, a defiant splash of color against the grayness he had imposed.
He stared at me, his eyes flickering with something I couldn't quite decipher. Surprise? Confusion? "Annette? Where are you going? You're not dressed for a trip." His voice had a controlling edge, a familiar possessiveness that made my skin crawl.
"I'm going where I need to be, Greyson," I said, my voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil inside. "And I don't need your permission. Or your protection. I know this town better than you do, after all these years." I had navigated its winding roads, its hidden paths, its dark corners, alone. While he was off playing hero.
I pulled Karter towards the door, ignoring Greyson's looming presence. Our destination was the Registry Office. The final step.
He was waiting outside, leaning against his car, a picture of casual dominance. When he saw the documents in my hand, his eyes widened slightly. A flicker of alarm, quickly masked by disdain. His alpha instincts, usually so sharp, seemed bewildered, unable to grasp the enormity of what was happening. Even through the severed bond, a faint tremor of unease radiated from him.
"Just tying up some loose ends, Greyson," I said, my tone light, almost dismissive. "You should get back to Kennedy and Emil. I'm sure they miss their hero."
His face darkened, his eyes sharpening into cold, analytical slits. "Annette, don't play games. You know I don't like being pushed around. You're still my Omega." His voice was a low growl, laced with a familiar threat.
I smiled, a thin, humorless curve of my lips. "Oh, Greyson. You always did misunderstand me. I'm not pushing you away. I'm simply walking away. And I'm not your Omega anymore."
He let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "You think you can just leave? You'll regret it. You'll be back. They all come back." He climbed into his expensive car, slamming the door so hard the window cracked. Then he sped off, leaving a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes in his wake.
I watched him go, a strange sense of confusion mixing with my relief. He'd gotten what he wanted, hadn't he? Freedom. A new family. So why the anger? Why the shattered car door?
Later that evening, Greyson's beta assistant, Mark, called. "Annette? Greyson's... upset. He wants to talk. He says he's at Kennedy's place, playing with Emil."
I almost laughed. "Tell him I'm busy, Mark. He has his new family. He doesn't need us." I hung up, a cold satisfaction settling in my chest. The clock was ticking. Soon. Very soon.
