Chapter 2

The next few days passed in a blur of hollow silence. Mark came and went like a ghost, his presence marked only by a faint, lingering scent of the other woman and the clink of his coffee cup in the sink in the mornings. We didn't speak of the anniversary. We didn't speak of anything. The space between us had grown into a chasm, and I no longer had the energy to even try to shout across it. I spent my time in a numb haze, the moonstone pendant tucked beneath my shirt, its gentle warmth a constant, secret comfort against my skin.

Then, on Thursday evening, the impossible happened.

Mark found me in the library, where I was pretending to read a book, the words swimming meaninglessly before my eyes. The scent of old paper and leather polish usually soothed me, but tonight it felt oppressive.

He stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was unreadable, as always. "The annual Full Moon Gala is on Saturday," he stated, not asked.

I looked up, my heart giving a surprised little flutter. The Gala was the most important social event of the year for the packs in Veridia. It was a night of politics and power plays disguised with champagne and music. I had never been. In our first year, he'd said the crowds would be too much for me. In the second, he'd claimed I'd be bored. I hadn't even bothered to ask this year.

"Okay," I said, my voice neutral, betraying none of the sudden, wild hope blooming in my chest. *Is this it? Is he finally going to acknowledge me?*

"I need you to be there," he continued, his tone clipped and business-like. "Several of the allied Alphas will be in attendance. It's important we present a united front."

A united front. Not a loving couple. The words were a small splash of cold water, but they weren't enough to extinguish the tiny flame he'd just lit. It was something. It was more than I'd had in years.

"I'll be ready," I said, allowing a small, tentative smile to touch my lips.

He just nodded, his gaze already distant, and walked away.

The hope, fragile as it was, carried me through the next two days. I found a dress I'd bought on a whim a year ago and never worn-a deep midnight blue silk that shimmered like a star-dusted sky. It felt wonderful against my skin, a whisper of a life I could have had. On Saturday evening, as I stood before the mirror, I felt a flicker of the woman I used to be before Mark had systematically erased her.

My reflection showed a stranger with haunted eyes, but for the first time, I saw a spark of defiance in them. My hand went to my chest, and I pulled out my grandmother's pendant. The moonstone glowed softly in the lamplight. I fastened the silver chain around my neck, the stone settling in the hollow of my throat. Its gentle warmth spread through me, a sliver of confidence I hadn't felt in years. It felt like armor.

Mark was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. He looked devastatingly handsome in a black tuxedo, a perfect specimen of an Alpha. His eyes swept over me, a brief, assessing glance.

"The color suits you," was all he said. It wasn't a compliment, more a statement of fact, but I clung to it like a starving woman offered a crumb.

The drive was silent. The sleek, black car cut through the rain-slicked streets of Veridia, the rhythmic thump of the windshield wipers the only sound. I sat stiffly in the plush leather seat, the scent of his expensive cologne filling the small space. I tried to make conversation, asking about the Gala, about who would be there, but his answers were monosyllabic and clipped. The chasm was back, wider than ever.

My fragile hope began to fray. *This was a mistake. He's just using me as a prop. A united front.*

We were on the dark, winding road that led to the secluded estate where the Gala was held when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his entire demeanor changed. The cold mask of indifference shattered, replaced by a raw, naked panic.

He answered it, his voice urgent. "What is it? Are you okay?"

I couldn't hear the person on the other end, but I didn't need to. I knew.

"Don't worry, Sarah, I'm on my way," he said, his voice laced with a tenderness and love he had never, not once, shown me. "Your ovulation cycle is paramount. Just stay calm. I love you."

*I love you.*

The three words he had never said to me were a blade that slid between my ribs, straight into my heart, and twisted. The world tilted, sound fading to a dull roar in my ears. He loved her. He was abandoning our anniversary for her. He was abandoning the Gala-this one chance at a public life together-for her. Because her cycle was 'paramount'. I was not.

He slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt, tires protesting against the wet asphalt. We were plunged into a sudden, violent stillness on the side of a dark, rain-swept road, surrounded by the dense, dripping forest.

He turned to me, but he didn't see me. His eyes were wild, focused on something far away. On her.

"Wait here," he commanded, the words an afterthought, a dismissal.

Before I could even process it, he was out of the car. In the flash of a passing headlight, I saw his body contort and shift, the sound of tearing fabric and snapping bone a sickening counterpoint to the drumming rain. In his place stood a massive grey wolf, its eyes glowing with feral urgency. And then he was gone, vanishing into the black, dripping maw of the forest.

Leaving me utterly, completely, and finally shattered.

I don't know how long I sat there, the engine ticking as it cooled, the rain lashing against the windows. Numbness was a cold, heavy blanket. The pain was so immense it was almost silent, a vast, empty void where my heart used to be. The final, undeniable proof of his betrayal played over and over in my mind. *Your ovulation cycle is paramount. I love you.*

Slowly, as if moving through water, I pushed the car door open. The cold, driving rain hit me instantly, soaking my silk dress, plastering my hair to my scalp. I didn't care. I stumbled out onto the road, the asphalt rough and uneven beneath my thin heels. The wind howled through the trees, a mournful sound that matched the desolation in my soul.

I was drenched, numb with a grief so profound it felt like death. I just stood there, letting the storm wash over me, hoping it might wash me away completely.

Then, a blinding light.

Headlights cut through the downpour, bearing down on me. I was frozen, a deer caught in the glare. A sleek, black vehicle, even more imposing than Mark's, screeched to a halt just inches from where I stood. The sound of the tires was a scream in the night.

The driver's door flew open. A figure emerged, a man who seemed to draw all the shadows of the night to him. He was impossibly tall, his frame exuding a raw, untamed power that made the air crackle. It was a power that dwarfed Mark's, made it seem like a child's imitation. This was a true Alpha, an apex predator.

He strode towards me, his expression one of pure irritation. But as he got closer, his piercing silver eyes-the color of a winter moon-locked onto mine. His face shifted. The irritation vanished, replaced by a look of profound, earth-shattering shock.

He stopped directly in front of me, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He inhaled deeply, his head tilting slightly, as if tasting the air, tasting my scent. A low, possessive growl rumbled deep in his chest, a sound that vibrated through the soles of my feet and straight into my bones. It wasn't threatening. It was... claiming.

His silver eyes held mine, and he uttered a single, life-altering word.

"Mine."