Chapter 2

Bennett POV

The morning sun felt less like a greeting and more like a headache waiting to happen.

"Report," I growled, pressing the heels of my hands into my throbbing temples. The cleanup from the Rogue attack was a nightmare. Three warriors injured, the ballroom destroyed.

"We've secured the perimeter, Alpha," Mark said. He looked tired. Worse, he looked... disappointed. He had been looking at me like that since last night. "But we have a problem."

"What?"

"The Luna. She's not in her room."

I waved a hand dismissively. "She's probably hiding in the library. Or the garden. You know how Kelsey gets. She can't handle violence. She's likely shaking in a corner somewhere, waiting for me to come and coax her out."

"Bennett," Mark said, his voice dropping the honorific, sharp as a warning. "You need to go upstairs."

I frowned at his tone. I marched up the stairs, irritation bubbling under my skin like magma. I didn't have time for Kelsey's fragility today. I had a pack to run. I had Aria to check on-she had been so brave last night.

I pushed open the bedroom door.

It was empty. Not just devoid of people, but empty of *life*. The air felt stale, undisturbed, as if no one had breathed it for hours.

I walked to the nightstand.

The moonstone necklace sat there, coiled like a sleeping snake. Beside it was a piece of paper.

I read the words.

*I, Kelsey Jensen, reject you...*

A sharp pain, sudden and violent like a needle driven into my heart, hit my chest. I instinctively reached for the Mind-Link.

*Kelsey?*

Nothing. Just static. A hollow, echoing silence where her quiet presence used to be.

I scoffed, forcing the sensation down, and tossed the letter back onto the table.

"Dramatic," I muttered. "She's trying to make a point because I helped Aria first. She knows Aria is a Gamma's daughter and a warrior; she was in the thick of the fight. Kelsey was safe in the corner."

"She almost died, Bennett," Mark said from the doorway. "A rogue was inches from her throat. You turned your back."

"I knew you were there," I lied. The words tasted like ash. I hadn't known. I had just... reacted. Aria was screaming. Kelsey was silent. I always went to the noise.

"Pack her things," I ordered, turning away from the empty bed. "Move them to storage. If she wants to run away and play the victim, let her. She'll be back when she runs out of money or gets scared of the dark. She can't survive out there. She's weak."

"And the Luna's quarters?" Mark asked.

"Give them to Aria," I said. "For recovery. She needs the space."

*

Kelsey POV

The train rattled rhythmically, a lullaby of steel and motion.

We had crossed the border hours ago. The physical pull toward the Silver Crest Pack was fading, replaced by a dull ache that was surprisingly manageable-like a bruise beginning to heal.

I looked out the window at the blurring French countryside.

My body felt... strange. Hot. Cold. Vibrating. Without the pack inhibitors suppressing my system, my biology was waking up. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.

I opened the travel brochure for Paris. *The City of Light.* It sounded cliché, but right now, I needed light. I needed to be somewhere where the shadows of the pack couldn't reach me.

"Mademoiselle?"

I looked up. The conductor was checking tickets.

"Paris, Gare de Lyon," he said, punching my ticket.

"Merci," I whispered.

I closed my eyes. *Bennett thinks he owns me,* I thought. *He thinks love is control. He thinks safety is a cage.*

I took a deep breath. For the first time, the air didn't smell of him, of cedar and rain. It smelled of coffee, stale upholstery, and diesel. It smelled like freedom.

*

Two Days Later

I stood in the center of a small apartment in the 18th arrondissement. It was tiny, expensive, and perfect.

My phone buzzed. It was a notification from the Pack's social media page. I hadn't blocked them yet. Some masochistic part of me wanted to see.

A photo.

Aria, standing in *my* bedroom. She was holding a glass of wine, leaning against the vanity where I used to brush my hair. The caption read: *New beginnings. Healing with the Alpha.*

In the background, I could see the wall. My paintings were gone.

I had spent years painting those. Landscapes of the territory. Portraits of the elders. They had been erased. Replaced by a large, gaudy mirror reflecting Aria's triumph.

She had erased me.

I didn't cry. Instead, a cold, hard stone settled in the pit of my stomach.

I grabbed my coat and walked out. I needed to do something. I needed to purge the last of them from my life.

I found a small charity shop down the street. I pulled the small velvet bag from my pocket. Inside was a diamond bracelet Bennett had given me for our first anniversary. It was cold and heavy in my palm.

"I want to donate this," I told the woman behind the counter in broken French. "For the artist fund."

She looked at the diamonds, eyes widening. "Are you sure, Madame?"

"Yes," I said. "It's bad luck."

I walked out of the shop, feeling lighter, as if I had set down a heavy pack.

I headed toward the train station to pick up some supplies. The crowd was dense, a river of bodies flowing in every direction. I was jostled back and forth.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my elbow to steady me.

"Careful."

The voice was deep, resonating in my chest like a cello string plucked in a dark room.

Sparks.

Literal, electric sparks shot up my arm where his skin touched my coat. The sensation was so intense I gasped, jerking my arm back as if burned.

I looked up.

He was tall. Dark hair, tousled in a way that looked effortless yet deliberate. Eyes the color of the Atlantic Ocean-deep, stormy blue.

He looked at me, and for a second, his pupils dilated. He inhaled sharply.

*Mate?*

My Inner Wolf woke up. She didn't whimper. She growled. *Mine?*

No. No, no, no.

I stepped back, terror flooding my veins colder than ice. I couldn't do this again. I couldn't be trapped by biology again.

"I'm sorry," I stammered.

The man blinked, shaking his head as if waking from a dream. He smiled, and it was a gentle, crooked thing. Not an Alpha's arrogant smirk.

"My fault," he said. "Are you alright? You look... startled."

"I have to go," I said.

I turned and ran. I didn't look back. I didn't see him watching me, lifting his hand to stare at his own fingers where he had touched me.

I ran until my lungs burned. I ran until I was sure I was alone.

I wasn't ready for a second chance. I was still bleeding from the first one.