Chapter 2

I woke to the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling meat—Peyton's usual attempt at peace-making. It used to comfort me.

Now, it soured my stomach.

He stood at the stove, shirtless, in pajama pants, flipping eggs like we were still newly bonded, like he hadn't just clutched another woman to his chest the night before.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he said over his shoulder, his voice smooth, disarming. "I thought I'd make your favorite. Eggs Benedict, with croissants and fresh orange juice."

I slid into the chair at the kitchen island, watching him closely. He moved with ease, as if everything in our world was intact.

"You're not heading to the pack today?" I asked, tone neutral.

He shook his head. "Nope. It's my day off. Besides, I was thinking we could check out that art exhibit you mentioned last week."

My heart thudded. He remembered. Or pretended to.

"That's unexpected," I murmured.

He smiled. "Unexpected's good sometimes."

I sipped my juice slowly, noting the way he avoided my gaze when he thought I wasn't looking. His shoulders were relaxed, but his fingers tapped nervously against the counter.

When he took the plate to the sink, his shirt lifted slightly—and there it was.

A smear of lipstick at the edge of his lower back.

Not mine.

My wolf stirred. My claws pushed against the surface of my skin.

He turned, catching my gaze before I could look away.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

Lies. We were both full of them.

We left for the gallery around noon. Peyton insisted on driving, his hand resting lightly on mine the whole ride, as if the warmth of his skin could erase the cold in my chest.

Inside the gallery, I tried to focus on the art. I really did. But every time a couple passed by, every time I saw a pair of mates standing close, I felt like I was being split open.

Then his phone rang.

I glanced at him.

He hesitated—just a second too long—before answering.

"Yeah?" he said, voice lowered. "No, I told you, I'm with Naomi today. We're at the gallery… No. I said no."

He stepped out onto the balcony, closing the glass door behind him.

I followed.

Quiet as fog, I moved through the space until I reached the edge, peeking out just far enough to hear.

"…you can't just show up, Opal. This isn't a game."

My breath caught.

"I had to," she said, voice sulky. "You didn't respond all night. I know you were with her."

There was silence, then the unmistakable sound of a kiss.

I didn't breathe.

"Peyton, I'm pregnant," she whispered.

Pregnant.

The word slammed into me like a truck.

I felt the floor tilt beneath me. My vision narrowed, tunneled. My wolf screamed in my skull.

"And I know you still love me," she added, her tone like silk dipped in poison. "You always said you wanted an heir. She can't give you one."

I couldn't look away.

Peyton's hand went to her belly. He didn't pull away.

He didn't deny it.

I stepped back, heart thrumming like war drums.

Then I lifted my phone.

And I hit record.