The morning light filtered through the grand windows of the packhouse, casting a golden hue over the polished wooden floors. The scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread filled the air, but it did little to ease the tension tightening my chest.
The first thing I saw when I stepped into the kitchen was Maya and Kian.
She stood by the stove, flipping venison strips with practiced ease, her long, dark hair cascading down her back like silk. Kian leaned against the counter beside her, his broad shoulders relaxed, his lips curled into a lazy smile as he chuckled at something she said.
As if last night hadn’t been enough to remind me where I stood, Maya had the audacity to make herself comfortable in our home—the Alpha’s home.
Her fingers grazed Kian’s arm as she turned the meat, a casual touch, almost imperceptible. But I noticed. I always noticed.
Kian hadn’t laughed like that in weeks.
Then, as if sensing my presence, Maya turned, her golden eyes gleaming with something that wasn’t quite innocence.
“Selena, you’re awake,” she greeted, her voice smooth, as if nothing was amiss. “I left my satchel here last night. I only meant to grab it, but since Kian was hungry, I made breakfast.” She lifted a plate of venison and eggs, her smile bright. “Want some?”
How thoughtful. How kind. As if she wasn’t standing in my place.
She had never been the type to acknowledge boundaries, not even when we were younger. Back then, Maya had always found her way into Kian’s space—lingering by his side during training, riding with him on scouting runs, stepping into conversations that weren’t hers.
And I had let it slide every time.
Because I had been raised to be patient. To be kind. To not question the way things were.
Maybe that had been my mistake.
Kian finally noticed me, his deep blue eyes lighting up as if the situation was perfectly normal. He strode over, slipping an arm around my waist with that effortless confidence of his.
“You should try it,” he murmured. “Maya’s cooking is something else.”
I nodded, moving on instinct as he guided me to the long wooden dining table. He took the middle seat, and I sat across from Maya.
She filled the silence with easy chatter, speaking to Kian as if I weren’t even there. She laughed, bringing up memories of their hunting trip last autumn, recounting inside jokes and stories that had no place in this moment.
Every so often, she would glance at me, a flicker of something smug behind her eyes.
I forced myself to eat.
I had spent my entire life here, among the thick pine forests and towering mountains of our homeland, where the rules of the pack were absolute. Kian was the Alpha. His word was law. And yet, in this moment, I felt like an outsider in my own territory.
The silence stretched until I finally spoke.
“Since Maya was kind enough to cook, I’ll handle the cleanup.”
I pushed my chair back, gathering the plates before anyone could protest.
Kian, ever the dutiful mate, rose to help me. “I’ve got it,” he said, setting the dishes beside me.
Maya stretched her arms above her head, sighing lazily. “I’ll freshen up then,” she said, slipping away down the hall as if she belonged here.
The moment she disappeared, I took my chance.
Keeping my voice even, I murmured, “Can you take me to the capital later? My travel documents need renewal.”
Kian, ever oblivious, nodded without hesitation. “Of course. We can go after breakfast.”
He stepped behind me, his hands settling on my waist, his touch warm, grounding. And for a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to sink into it.
Then—
A sharp scream rang through the packhouse.
Kian didn’t hesitate. He was gone before I could even turn.
I stood there, frozen, my skin still tingling from his embrace.
Moments later, he reappeared, carrying Maya in his arms. Her face was twisted in pain, but I caught the quick smirk she shot my way when Kian wasn’t looking.
“Maya’s ankle is twisted,” he said quickly, already reaching for his keys. “I’ll take you to the capital after I make sure she’s okay.”
And just like that, he was gone.
I stood in the empty kitchen, the silence pressing in. But I wasn’t surprised.
This wasn’t the first time Kian had chosen Maya.
I had been a fool to think that claiming my place as his mate would change anything.
Taking a slow breath, I turned away.
I would go to the capital alone.
Sitting in the grand halls of the Council’s administrative offices, I filled out my renewal papers, my pen gliding smoothly over the parchment. But when I reached the section asking for my name, I hesitated.
A thought struck me—cold and final.
In twenty-nine days, I would leave for the eastern territories. A fresh start.
So why not erase everything?
My grip tightened on the pen.
And then, with quiet determination, I signed a second form—requesting the deletion of my current identification and the registration of a new name.
Because I was done waiting to be chosen.
