Chapter 1

Nine hours on a freezing plastic bench in the airport terminal, inhaling the smell of burnt coffee and industrial floor wax, is enough to make my wolf prowl restlessly beneath my skin. She whines, sensing the same sinking wrongness that churns in my stomach.

My suitcase rests at my feet, packed with everything I thought I’d need for the three-day anniversary trip Silas and I planned months ago. Now, the time I’d wasted sits in a tight knot in my stomach, right beside the money I’d wasted on the dress I bought for our anniversary dinner.

My phone vibrates in my coat pocket. I yank it out, my cold fingers fumbling over the screen.

‘Let it be Silas,’ I mutter under my breath. ‘Let it be him sending a quick text saying his car broke down, a work or pack emergency kept him away. Just give me an excuse I can use.’

It isn’t Silas.

It is a notification from Maya’s Instagram.

Something bitter rises in my chest. I tamp it down and, against my better judgment, open it. I’m hit with a photo of Silas, my dearest husband, and Maya, his high school sweetheart, at the Winter Carnival.

His heavy wool coat is wrapped around her to shield her from the cold, and his chin rests comfortably, very comfortably, against the top of her head. They are laughing.

The caption beneath sends an arrow straight through my chest.

‘My favorite kind of day with my favorite person.’

I stare at the pixels until the screen goes dark. A sharp, metallic taste floods the back of my mouth. I realize seconds later that I’ve bitten my tongue hard enough to draw blood.

I grip the edges of my phone, pressing until the sharp edges dig into my palm. I force myself to breathe in and out, refusing to let the hot tears forming in my eyes actually fall.

Not here. Not in an airport terminal over a man who left his mate waiting for nine hours in the airport while he was with his high school sweetheart.

I start counting backward in my head. I count the missed dinners, the interrupted movie nights, the sudden pack emergencies that always seemed to involve her.

One hundred and one.

This is the one hundred and first time Silas has stood me up to be with Maya.

“Anniversary trip, my ass,” I chuckle bitterly, slipping my phone back into my pocket.

As I drag myself up from the bench, I feel something inside my chest snap. It feels like the helpless unraveling of a worn-out thread finally giving way. Any little hope I had left in Silas, in our marriage, is completely shattered.

The frantic pacing of my wolf stops. She lets out a single, hollow breath, curls into the deepest corner of my mind, and closes her eyes.

She is done.

When I drag my suitcase across the hardwood of our foyer, the grandfather clock chimes 10:00 PM. The house is pitch black, save for the amber glow over the kitchen island. Silas is leaning against the marble counter with a glass of bourbon in his hand.

He doesn’t look at my bag. He just glares at me, his jaw set in that hard, unforgiving line he reserves for disobedient pack members.

“Where the hell have you been, Cora?”

A month ago, I would have flinched at the sharp edge of his Alpha tone. I would have felt the innate urge to bare my neck and apologize to keep the peace. Tonight, the air between us feels entirely dead.

“Take a wild guess, Silas.” My voice doesn’t shake. It sounds like it belongs to someone else. “Where do you think I’d be going with this?”

I shove the suitcase forward with a little more force than necessary. It rams against the sides of his legs.

He stares down at it. His nostrils flare, taking in the scent of stale airport air and freezing rain clinging to my clothes. I wait for the realization to wash over him. I wait for him to remember the anniversary trip we booked three months ago.

Instead, his eyes narrow. He kicks the suitcase out of his way.

“Oh, so now you’re running off with your bags packed? Do you not have any respect for your husband?” He roars, his voice carrying with that dark command meant to force submission.

A dry, rough laugh scratches its way out of my throat. His hypocrisy actually stinks.

“Mr. Thorne,” I say calmly. His eyes narrow at the formal title. “Are you that good of a pretender, or is your memory actually slipping? You were at the Winter Carnival all evening with Maya while I waited for you at the freaking airport!” I sneer, before barking out another laugh. “It’s a habit now, isn’t it? Repeatedly forgetting your wife just to spend quality time with your mistress!”

I catch a flash of genuine guilt in his eyes, but he instantly smothers it under a thick layer of defensive anger. He slams his glass on the kitchen counter and closes the distance between us in two strides.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” He growls, gripping my wrist tightly. “I am your Alpha! She had an emergency at her house. I went over to help, and one thing led to another. We completely lost track of time.”

I stare at him, unimpressed by the explanation, and he sighs, his tone softening.

“I’ll make it up to you. We’ll take a trip to Paris next weekend. It’ll be just the two of us. I promise you, Cora.”

I look down at his large hand wrapped around my arm. The same hand that held Maya earlier. The same empty promises falling from his lips. The same misplaced anger to mask his guilt. I’ve seen this scene too many times before. Silas abandons me, feels guilty, throws his Alpha weight around, then promises to make everything right.

And every time, I believe him.

Not this time.

His touch used to send warmth straight to my bones. Now, my skin just feels cold as exhaustion washes over me.

A shaky breath leaves my lips. I pry his fingers off my wrist, turn, and walk away.

I don’t want another trip.

I don’t want another empty promise.

I just want to get away from my Alpha.