Chapter 7

December 31.

The last day before I left.

The countdown had begun.

I did my makeup carefully, put on a sapphire-blue dress, and wore the cashmere coat Kyle had given me last year over it. Without the usual black uniform, the reflection in the mirror looked almost unfamiliar—softer, more feminine.

I stood under the lights where we were supposed to meet.

I waited from afternoon to dusk, from dusk into full night.

Kyle never came.

My phone screen lit up, went dark, lit up again. Finally, after ten suffocating seconds of silence, I pressed his number.

The call rang for a long time.

He only answered when it was almost about to disconnect.

His voice came through, tired and rushed.

“Layla, Selena’s not feeling well. I’m with her at the pack clinic right now. I’ll come find you later—”

Before he could finish, the call dropped.

My heart sank hard.

My fingers moved on their own, opening Instagram.

Selena had just posted.

Welcoming the New Year in the place that belongs to me. #AlphaExclusiveSpot #Position82

In the photo, she was wearing sexy sleepwear, lounging in Kyle’s usual seat, holding a glass of champagne. Beside the chair was an opened box of condoms.

My mind went blank for a second.

Then I laughed.

I laughed so hard my chest hurt.

Kyle.

People say liars swallow a thousand needles.

So how many lies have you fed me?

Times Square glowed under the night sky, neon blazing, the crowds surging around me, beautiful as a dream that didn’t feel real.

I steadied my shaking hand and lifted my phone to take a picture of the scene in front of me.

So what if Kyle wasn’t here?

They were only photos.

From now on, I could be my own photographer.

I walked slowly down Broadway, recording every familiar light and shadow through my lens.

At ten o’clock that night, Kyle finally called.

“Layla, I’m going to be late. Find a café and sit inside somewhere. Don’t freeze.”

I looked around at the couples huddling together for warmth, my fingers whitening around the phone.

“How much longer am I supposed to wait?”

“I’ll make it before midnight,” he said quickly. “I promise I’ll be there to ring in the New Year with you. I’ll take your photos.”

Knowing he was standing beside Selena even while saying that to me made the whole thing feel insane.

I stared out at the sea of neon in front of me and said quietly,

“I’ll wait until midnight.”

After midnight, it would be goodbye.

That would be his last chance to see me.

If he broke his promise again, then he would never see me again for the rest of his life.

After the call ended, I leaned against the freezing railing and kept waiting, watching the people move past me.

Eleven o’clock.

Eleven-thirty.

Eleven-fifty-nine.

Times Square grew more crowded by the second. The giant screens began the countdown. Couples around me shouted Happy New Year!, kissing under the fireworks.

Kyle never showed up.

My phone lit again.

Selena had posted another update.

Welcoming the New Year in Position 83. Times Square’s neon lit up our twenties.

Fireworks exploded above me, their colors reflecting off my phone screen.

I put the phone away calmly.

Even my heartbeat had gone so steady it startled me.

The wind cut across my face, but I no longer cared.

Only after the crowds began to thin and the neon dimmed did I finally hail a cab home.

The moment I got inside, my phone buzzed again.

This time, it was a group message from Western Frontier Patrol Unit 28 of the Northern Wild Wolf Clan.

Welcome, Commander Layla!

Happy New Year!

I took a deep breath and replied:

Happy New Year. Looking forward to patrolling with all of you.

Then I blocked every contact Kyle had.

And I started packing the last of my things.

I folded the cashmere coat neatly and left it on the couch, like the final gesture in a formal farewell.

Then I pulled out a note and wrote the last thing I would ever leave him:

Kyle, I’m leaving. Wishing you and Selena all the best as you finish unlocking all 108 positions.

I left the note on the coffee table, dragged my suitcase behind me, and walked out of the home I had lived in for five years—

without looking back once.

At six in the morning, the first light of dawn reached the eastern outpost.

I changed into my new black uniform, the commander’s insignia pinned to my shoulder, and walked step by step toward the black SUV parked at the edge of the station.

The number 28 on the door gleamed coldly in the morning light.

From this moment on, I was the commander of Western Frontier Patrol Unit 28.

I got into the car and wrapped my hands around the wheel.

A rush of heat spread from my palms through my entire body.

I adjusted my communicator and spoke clearly.

“Eastern Main Outpost, Western Frontier Patrol Unit 28 is fully prepared. Requesting authorization for first patrol.”

The answer came quickly through the comms.

“Main Outpost acknowledges. Western Frontier Patrol Unit 28, authorization granted. Safe journey, Commander Evans.”

“Goodbye, New York.”

I started the engine.

Under the morning sun, the black SUV shot forward like an arrow released from a bow, tearing away toward the horizon.

The light was perfect.

It looked exactly like a brand-new future.

From this day forward, my life would move along the route of Western Frontier Patrol Unit 28—

and it would never cross Kyle’s again.