Chapter 2 Reckoning

He watched her silently. With both their family estates sprawling across the territory, there were plenty of unused properties. But he knew-knew-this wasn't about dust or upkeep.

"You're not in trouble, are you? Financially?"

Lindsay let out a quiet breath, then turned to him, her expression calm but distant. "No trouble. Just... cleaning out what doesn't belong to me anymore."

Brandon's jaw tensed. He wanted to press further, but she returned to her task, her hands moving methodically over the spines of old books. Her silence built a wall between them thicker than stone.

He lingered in the doorway a moment longer before stepping back toward the night. "I'll be staying over at Kylie's more often. Her shifts have been unstable. She needs someone nearby."

"Of course," Lindsay replied softly, her voice betraying nothing. "Take care of her."

Brandon hesitated as if waiting for a protest, but none came. He left.

Only when the door clicked shut behind him did Lindsay finally let her shoulders sag. She moved to the window, watching him cross the snowy yard toward the house next door, his figure fading into the lamplight.

A small, bitter smile curved her lips.

The curtains. The hand-carved dining table. The wolf sigil above the hearth. She'd chosen every piece in this home, imagining pups running through its halls, laughter filling the nights, the warmth of a bond strengthened over years.

But now, every carefully chosen detail felt like an echo from a life she'd never truly lived.

She wiped a tear from her cheek, then finished sealing the last box.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket just as she reached for it to call Mara. Instead, Mara's name flashed across the screen.

She answered. "Hey."

"Lindsay." Mara's voice was sharp, breathless. "Check the howlstreams."

A weight settled in Lindsay's chest as she unlocked her phone.

There it was-trending again under the pack's newsfeeds, flashing in bold:

"Alpha Sheffield and Kylie Bloomfield Spotted Under Blood Moon-Old Flames Rekindled?"

A video clip played beneath the headline. Brandon, standing at Kylie's side, his arm loosely wrapped around her shoulders as she leaned into him beneath the glow of last night's moon. Her head rested against his chest.

The whispers were no longer whispers.

They were howls.

Mara's voice crackled through the phone. "Linds... say something."

But Lindsay could only stare, the numbness spreading like frost over her skin.

"I've already said everything," she whispered.

And in that quiet moment, as the moon's light spilled over the snowy yard, Lindsay felt the wolf inside her stir-restless, awake, no longer content to be silent.

A reckoning was coming.

And when that time comes, she wouldn't look away. Brandon stared at her a moment longer, as if weighing her words. Then he gave a short nod, turning his attention back to the muted television. "Don't forget to put it back up," he murmured again.

"I won't," Lindsay replied softly.

Silence settled between them, thick and awkward. Lindsay stood, brushing invisible dust from her hands. "I'm going to bed."

Brandon didn't look up. "Goodnight."

She paused at the foot of the stairs, watching him from behind-the slope of his shoulders, the weariness etched in his posture. For a fleeting moment, she felt a pang in her chest, not quite love, not quite regret, but something quietly aching.

"Goodnight, Brandon."

Upstairs, she closed the bedroom door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. The house felt heavier now, like it had absorbed too many unspoken words, too many nights spent waiting for footsteps that never came.

Her phone buzzed again. Maria.

"Got you an appointment with a lawyer tomorrow at 10 a.m. I'll pick you up."

Lindsay smiled faintly at the message. "Thanks, Maria."

She set the phone down and opened the suitcase on the bed, pulling out the clothes she'd carefully folded inside. One by one, she hung them back in the closet. She wouldn't need them yet. Not until the papers were signed. Not until the ties were truly severed.

Downstairs, Brandon turned off the TV and sat in the dim light of the lamp, staring at the spot where the wedding photo had once hung. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was slipping through his fingers.

He thought about Lindsay's earlier request-the wish trip. The way she'd asked, quiet but steady, like a last olive branch extended. And the way he'd dismissed it, as always.

A flicker of guilt crawled up his spine. Maybe he could've said yes. Maybe it wasn't too late.

But his phone lit up just then with a message from Kylie.

"Can you come over? I can't sleep."

Brandon rubbed his face with both hands, then stood up, grabbing his jacket. He glanced once more at the staircase, then quietly let himself out the door.

From the bedroom window, Lindsay watched him walk across the yard toward the house next door, his figure swallowed by the night.

She closed the curtain.

By morning, she'd already left for the lawyer's office.

Maria waited for her at the curb, coffee in hand, her worried eyes scanning Lindsay's pale face. "Did you sleep at all?"

"Not really," Lindsay admitted, sliding into the passenger seat.

Maria handed her the coffee. "You sure about this?"

Lindsay took a slow sip before answering. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

The city passed by in a blur as they drove. Lindsay leaned her forehead against the cool window, watching the people on the sidewalks-couples laughing, mothers walking their children to school, shopkeepers unlocking their doors.

She wondered how many of them carried their own silent heartbreaks, tucked beneath smiles and morning routines.

When they arrived at the lawyer's office, Maria squeezed her hand. "I'll be right here."

Lindsay nodded and stepped inside.

For the first time in years, she felt like she was walking toward something that belonged solely to her.

And as she signed her name at the bottom of the papers, a quiet calm settled over her.

Outside, the sun was breaking through the clouds, warm and golden.

She looked up, breathing it in.