Page 105

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to the tiny life inside me. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

The separation feels like withdrawal from the most addictive drug imaginable.

This isn’t anything like when I left Justin. That had been a relief, a weight lifting, freedom from constant criticism and control. This is the opposite—a crushing pressure, a void that can’t be filled, a hunger that gnaws at my insides with vicious teeth. If this is the bond Kane spoke of, it’s no small thing. It’s not something I can ignore or push aside.

The realization terrifies me almost as much as the pain.

I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling of Alice’s spare room, watching shadows shift as cars pass on the street outside. The tears have stopped momentarily, leaving my face tight and swollen. My throat feels raw from hours of silent sobbing. Two days of this—how much more can I take?

“You need to be stronger than this,” I tell myself, my voice cracking from disuse.

They lied to me, kept secrets, and made decisions about my life, my body, and my future without consulting me. They treated me like property rather than a partner.

But they also protected me, cherished me, and made mefeel valued and desired in ways I’d never experienced before. They awakened parts of myself I never knew existed.

“Stop,” I hiss to myself, digging my nails into my palms until the sharp pain cuts through the fog of longing. “They’re not good for you.”

The clock on the nightstand reads 10:32 AM. I’ve been lying here for hours, crying in bed and hardly able to sleep. Alice told me to take as much time as I needed before returning to work, which was a relief. She thinks I’m recovering from years of emotional abuse, not mourning the loss of a supernatural bond to three werewolf alphas.

I’ll never be able to tell her the truth. Never be able to tellanyonethe truth. The realization settles like a stone in my gut. With this baby, I’ll be forever isolated in my secret, raising a child who’s not fully human, watching for signs of shifting, teaching them to hide their true nature.

Unless I go back.

The thought sends a pulse of something like relief through me, the pain behind my ribs momentarily easing. My body, at least, knows what it wants.

With a groan, I force myself to sit up. The room tilts and swims around me, my head pounding from dehydration and endless crying. My legs shake when I stand, my muscles weak from two days of barely moving from this bed. I shuffle to the bathroom, avoiding my reflection in the mirror. I don’t need to see the wreckage of my face to know how bad it is.

The cold water I splash on my cheeks helps clear my head slightly. I brush my teeth mechanically, going through the motions of basic hygiene without really focusing on the task.

Back in the bedroom, I pull on sweatpants and one of Alice’s oversized hoodies. The clothes smell wrong, lacking the pine, musk, and distinctive scents of my alphas. Fresh tears threaten to spill, and I swallow hard against the lump in mythroat. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep falling apart every time I remember them.

The house is silent as I make my way to the kitchen. Alice keeps her place neat and minimalist, everything in its place, nothing like the lived-in warmth of the alphas’ den.

I fill the kettle and set it to boil, going through the motions of making coffee while my mind drifts. The cupboard door slams shut a little harder than I intended, making me jump at the sudden noise. My hands shake as I measure grounds into the French press, spilling some across the counter.

“Fuck,” I mutter, hastily wiping at the mess with my sleeve.

The rich aroma of brewing coffee fills the kitchen, a small comfort amid the chaos. I lean against the counter, waiting for the four minutes it takes to steep, and find myself thinking of all the mornings I woke to the smell of coffee in the alphas’ house. Jace singing off-key in the shower. Finn reading the newspaper at the kitchen table, quiet and watchful. Kane’s hands on my waist as he pressed morning kisses to my neck.

A sob escapes me before I can stop it, tears flowing again as if they had never ceased. I press my palm over my mouth, trying to hold in the sounds of my breaking heart, but it’s useless.

I slide down to the floor, my back against the kitchen cabinets, knees pulled to my chest as I rock slightly, trying to contain the pain that threatens to tear me apart. It’s not supposed to hurt like this. Leaving something bad should feel liberating. Instead, it feels like death, like amputation, like my soul is being shredded with each breath I take away from them.

The coffee press chimes, the timer complete, but I make no move to pour myself a cup. Instead, I reach for my phone, unlocking it with trembling fingers. There aredozens of missed calls from Kane, Finn, and Jace. Voicemails I haven’t had the courage to listen to. Text messages I’ve read through tears but haven’t answered.

Jace

Please come home. We can talk about this. I’ll do anything. Just let me know you’re safe.

Kane

I understand why you left. I respect your need for space. But please, Mia, just tell me you’re okay.

Finn

I miss you. We all do. The house is empty without you.

Each message is like a knife twisting in my chest. I want to respond and reach out to ease the pain I know Kane must be feeling, too. But what would I say? That I’m miserable without him? That I wake each morning reaching for his warmth beside me? That my body aches for his touch in ways that terrify me?