Chapter 2

The next evening, Kael came home early.

I was curled up on the sofa watching a documentary about Venetian glassblowing when I heard his key in the lock. My bandaged hand rested on a throw pillow, the burn still pulsing with every heartbeat. My wolf healing had kicked in overnight, but second-degree burns took time—even for us.

He walked in carrying a glossy black shopping bag. Prada. He set it on the coffee table in front of me like a peace offering laid at the feet of a Luna he'd wronged.

"For you," he said. His voice was softer than usual. Almost careful.

I didn't reach for it.

He sat down beside me—closer than he'd been in weeks—and I caught the scent clinging to his shirt. My wolf senses made it impossible to miss.

Not tuberose this time, but something deeper. Richer. Baccarat Rouge 540.

I recognized it because Raven had posted an unboxing video last week, running the bottle across her collarbone, laughing about how it cost nearly five hundred dollars.

And here was my husband. The Alpha of the Blackwood Pack. Drenched in another she-wolf's perfume, handing me a gift like that would erase the blisters on my skin.

I opened the bag. Inside was a candle. Jo Malone. The kind they give you free when you buy the real thing.

He was wearing her scent. And he'd brought me the leftover sample.

"You don't like it?"

"It's lovely," I said, and set it aside without looking at him.

Kael's jaw tightened. He caught my chin, turning my face toward him—a gentle touch that once made me melt. Through the bond, I felt his wolf reaching for mine, trying to soothe, trying to connect.

My wolf turned away.

"Sera. I know yesterday was... complicated. But I'm trying here." He leaned closer, his breath warm against my temple, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "Can you at least meet me halfway? Talk to me. You're acting like I'm not even in the room."

Once, that low voice in my ear would have made my wolf preen. I would have turned into him, bared my throat in submission, let him kiss the apology onto my lips until I forgot why I was angry.

But my hand still throbbed beneath its bandages. I could still feel the ghost of that locked door handle under my palm. The heat of the car. The way he hadn't even looked back.

"I'm not acting like anything," I said, pulling free from his grip. "I'm watching TV."

"You've been cold ever since I walked in the door—"

"I'm tired." I stood, letting his hand fall away. "Think I'll turn in early."

"Sera." His voice dropped to that dangerous register—pure Alpha command that made every wolf in the pack bare their throat. "Don't walk away from me."

I paused in the doorway. Looked at him over my shoulder.

The old Sera would have trembled. Would have felt her knees buckle under the weight of his dominance. Would have crawled back to his side, whimpering sorry sorry sorry until he deigned to forgive her.

"Goodnight, Kael."

I didn't wait for his response.

The moment I slid under the covers, he followed me in.

The mattress dipped. His body pressed against my back, one arm sliding around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His lips found the curve of my neck—right over my mating mark, that spot that used to make me gasp and go boneless in his arms.

"Sera." His voice was rough. Low. A growl rumbling beneath the words. "Don't shut me out."

His hand slid beneath my nightgown, palm flat against my stomach, fingers splayed possessively across my skin. Warm. Familiar. The way he'd touched me a thousand times before. Through the bond, I felt his wolf pushing against mine, demanding entrance.

My wolf snarled back.

His kiss lasted barely three seconds before I shoved him off—hard enough that he stumbled back.

He snapped on the bedside lamp, chest heaving, eyes flashing amber. "What the hell? Don't tell me you forgot what night it is."

Kael and I had been trying for a pup. The pack elders had been pressuring us for an heir since our bonding ceremony. Around this time each month—when my fertility peaked—he always made a point to "do his duty."

I rolled onto my side, facing away from him. "I'm too tired. Goodnight."

Hearing his own excuse—the same words he'd used on me countless times—thrown back at him left him speechless.

He stood there for a moment, jaw working, his wolf's fury bleeding through the bond like wildfire. Then he grabbed his pillow and stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to crack the frame.

I knew he'd sleep in the guest wing for the next few days. Probably run the territory until dawn, letting his wolf burn off the rage.

Once, that would have sent me spiraling. I would have lain awake all night, heart aching, wondering what I'd done wrong. Wondering if I was a terrible mate.

But that night, I slept better than I had in months.

The next morning, I stopped my boss Catherine in the hallway.

"That pack dissolution attorney you mentioned last year—the one who handled the Silvermane situation. Do you still have her number?"

Catherine's eyebrows rose. She was an old wolf, three generations deep in pack politics. She knew better than to ask questions about an Alpha's mate seeking a way out.

"I'll text it to you before lunch."

……

By day nine of separate bedrooms, Kael made his move.

I woke to the smell of bacon. Found him in the kitchen—this Alpha who had omegas to prepare his meals, who hadn't touched a stove in eight years of mating—standing over a pan of scrambled eggs.

He didn't say anything when I walked in. Just slid a plate across the counter, poured me coffee, black, the way I liked it. His eyes tracked my every movement, searching for something.

I didn't give it to him.

The eggs were overcooked. Rubbery. I ate them anyway, alone at the counter, then grabbed my keys and left without a word.

That afternoon, my phone buzzed. Marcus Thorne—Kael's Beta—had posted photos from his bonding celebration.

I scrolled through them in my office. Champagne towers. A seven-tier cake. The happy couple beaming for the camera.

And there, in the background of nearly every shot: Kael with Raven draped on his arm, laughing up at him like she had every right to be there. Like she was the Luna of the pack instead of me.

She was wearing a coat I recognized. Charcoal cashmere, custom-cut, with hand-stitched buttons I'd chosen myself. I'd given it to Kael for our fifth anniversary.

Last month, I'd asked him to wear it to my father's birthday dinner. He'd snapped that he'd lost it on a trip to the Northern Packs. Called me obsessive for bringing it up twice.

And here it was. Draped over Raven Sterling's shoulders like a trophy.

I stared at that photo for a long time. At her smile. At his hand on her lower back—right where an Alpha touched his mate.

Then I screenshot the image. Opened Instagram. Posted it to my story with a simple caption:

Picked out every stitch of that coat for my Alpha. Funny how it ended up on the backup.

Three seconds later, my phone exploded.

Kael's name. Calling.