Chapter 2

Elena‘s POV

I woke before dawn and reached for the calendar on my nightstand.

Day twenty-nine.

The red marker felt heavy in my hand as I drew a line through yesterday.

Blake was still asleep beside me, his breathing deep and even. I watched him for a moment, the curve of his jaw, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead.

I slipped out of bed and padded down the hallway to the kitchen, where I made a phone call I'd been dreading.

Sarah picked up on the second ring. "Elena? It's five in the morning."

"I know, I'm sorry." I kept my voice low. "I need to ask you something."

"Anything." She said without hesitation.

That was Sarah, my oldest friend and the only one who'd stuck by me through everything. She didn't ask questions when I showed up at her door crying. She didn't judge me when I made excuses for Blake. She just loved me, quietly and completely.

"The severing ritual," I said. "The witch gave me the details. I need someone to handle the arrangements after I'm gone and make sure everything is... taken care of."

Silence on the other end.

"Elena." Her voice was careful now. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't explain everything but I need you to promise me you'll do this. And that you won't tell anyone, especially not Blake."

I could picture her sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes, trying to make sense of what I was saying.

"You're scaring me."

"I know. I'm sorry. But please—just promise me."

She exhaled slowly. "Okay. I promise.

"Thank you, Sarah."

After I hung up, I stood at the kitchen window thinking back to when I first met him.

I met Blake at a winter solstice dance, back when I was nineteen and still believed in fairy tales.

He'd walked into the hall like he owned it, all broad shoulders and easy confidence. I was standing by the drinks table, too shy to talk to anyone, when our eyes met across the room, Ayla surged to the surface so fast it made me dizzy.

Mate, she'd whispered. He's our mate.

Blake must have felt it too, because he crossed the room in three strides and stopped right in front of me, close enough that I could smell pine and woodsmoke on his skin.

"It's you," he said, like he'd been searching for me his whole life.

We danced until midnight. He told me about his dreams of becoming Beta someday, of proving himself to the pack. I was nineteen and hadn’t shifted but he held my hand and said, "Then I'll help you. We'll do it together."

And he did.

When the full moon came, Blake stayed by my side through every agonizing moment of my transformation. He talked me through the pain, held me when my bones cracked and reformed, wiped the sweat from my face when I thought I was dying. Afterward, he carried me home and made me soup and didn't leave until he was sure I was okay.

Those first months were hard, we had nothing, just a tiny apartment with a leaky roof and barely enough money for food. But we were happy, so ridiculously, stupidly happy.

I used to fall asleep listening to his heartbeat, thinking, This is it. This is forever.

When did that change?

When did the boy who held me through my first shift become the man who couldn't even look at me anymore?

I was staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror when the pain hit.

It started as a flutter in my chest, then sharpened into something that stole my breath. I grabbed the edge of the sink, and watched my face go gray in the glass.

Breathe, my wolf urged. Just breathe.

But I couldn't.

I looked at the woman in the mirror and gaped.

When had I become this person? This ghost wearing my skin?

I've been alone, I realized. I've been alone for so long, and I didn't even notice.

The bathroom door flew open.

Blake stood in the doorway, his hair messy from sleep, his eyes wide. "I felt—" He stopped, taking in my hunched posture, my white-knuckled grip on the sink. "What's wrong? What happened?"

The mate bond. He'd felt my pain through the bond.

So it still worked, at least a little. At least enough for him to know when I was hurting.

"Nothing," I managed. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You look like you're about to collapse." He stepped closer, frowning. "Why aren't you at the hospital?"

"I said I'm fine."

We stared at each other before he smiled, he moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me back against his chest.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into my hair.

I closed my eyes as his warmth seeped into my back, and for one moment, just one, I let myself believe him.

This is enough, I told myself. These crumbs of affection. They're enough.

Even though I knew they weren't.

When I woke up, I was in bed and Blake was sitting beside me with a bouquet of moonflowers.

White petals glowing softly in the afternoon light. The same flowers he'd brought me every Sunday for over three years.

"You fainted," he said. "I carried you back to bed."

I pushed myself up against the pillows. "Moonflowers."

"Your favorite."

I took the bouquet, cradling it gently. "You bring me these every Sunday. How many years now? Since the day you asked me to be your mate."

Blake smiled. "You remember."

"You said moonflowers symbolize loyalty. That you'd never give me a reason to leave."

"I meant it."

I looked at him, searching for the truth in his eyes. He'd given me so much over the years. Houses. Cars. Beautiful things. He never let me want for anything material but somewhere along the way, he'd stopped giving me the thing I actually needed.

Himself.

Still, I couldn't let go. I kept drowning in these small moments of warmth, these glimpses of the man he used to be.

I unwrapped the bouquet carefully, and something tumbled out from between the stems.

A ring.

My heart stopped.

I'd seen this ring before. On Lydia's hand, three weeks ago, when I'd spotted them together at the restaurant. She'd been showing it off to the waitress, laughing about how Blake had surprised her with it.

This ring, my wolf howled. He gave this ring to her. And now he's giving it to you. How can his heart belong to two people?

"Blake." My voice came out strange. "Do you remember what you said when you first told me you loved me?"

He tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"You said if you ever fell in love with someone else, I should leave immediately. That you'd never want me to stay with someone who couldn't give me his whole heart." I turned the ring over in my palm. "Do you remember?"

Confusion flickered across his face. "Elena, what's going on? Why are you bringing this up?"

I forced a smile. "Nothing. Just something that came to mind."

His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and when he stared back at me with an apologetic expression.

"I have to go," he said, standing. "Work emergency."

"On a Sunday?"

"Council business." He kissed my forehead, "I'll be back later."

He was out the door before I could respond. Through the window, I watched him jog to his car with his phone pressed to his ear. And even though I couldn't hear the voice on the other end, I knew.

I knew exactly who was calling.