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Chapter twenty-nine

Sofia

I woke to golden sunlight streaming through the windows, the gauzy white curtains doing little to filter the morning glare. For a moment, I just lay there, letting my senses adjust to the space. The bed beneath me was too soft, too luxurious—nothing like my worn mattress at home or the threadbare sheets I’d had for years.

City sounds drifted up: car horns, the distant wail of sirens—were the sirens never-ending in this place?—a steady hum of traffic. No bird calls. No rustling leaves. No familiar sounds of the Three Rivers forest that usually met me each morning.

I’d slept in Derek’s shirt. His scent still clung to it but it was fading fast. For some reason, that made me sad, and a tear trickled down my cheek, which was ridiculous. It shouldn’t affect me. I didn’t care about Derek or whether his clothes still smelled of him or not.

What had I expected? An explanation? A promise that this time would be different? That he wouldn’t leave me again?

A bitter laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it, echoing in the too-large room.

Dream the freaking hell on, Sofia.

I felt like such an idiot. I couldn’t believe I’d let my guard down. Again. Every time I trusted him, he found new ways to stomp all over my heart.

My fingers clenched on the expensive sheets.

“Fool me once,” I muttered to the empty room, “shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. What the hell is fool me thrice? Give up now and become a lesbian?”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet meeting a cold marble floor. The chill shot through me, but I welcomed it. Anything to shake off the self-pity.

My wolf huffed; she didn’t like being in this strange place any more than I did.

Going home?

Not yet , I thought back as I studied the room. I hadn’t really taken it in last night; just had a quick shower to wash off the smell of my blood and panic, then collapsed on the bed and fell asleep.

Sunlight bounced off the muted grays and whites that dominated the room’s décor, creating an almost clinical atmosphere. No photos on the walls, no personal touches. Just pristine surfaces and sharp angles. Through the window, I could see skyscrapers stretching toward the clouds, their glass faces reflecting morning light like mirrors. The view should have been breathtaking, but it just made me feel smaller. More adrift. In Three Rivers, I could always orient myself with the forest I’d known my whole life. Here, everything was straight lines and right angles, man-made patterns that felt alien to my wolf.

I needed a plan. Needed to work out what I wanted. Should I go back to Three Rivers or just… disappear for a while? Mai did it. She vanished for four years. Maybe I could do the same—work for Lucian here, live in the city, try to be someone else. No one would really miss me. Mai had Wally to gossip with, and they had more in common with each other than me these days with all the baby stuff. Jase didn’t need me anymore—sure, he’d have to learn to cook, but if it was that or starve, I was confident he’d work it out. Julie could run the Bottley. Even Mrs. Patterson would manage; Jase would help her out if she needed anything.

I could do this. I really could stay here. Take the time to work out who I was and what I wanted. There was something freeing about that thought but also something achingly lonely. Werewolves are Pack creatures—we’re not meant to be alone. But maybe that was the problem. I’d been trying so hard to make sure everyone else was okay that I’d forgotten how to take care of myself.

I stood up, then froze when I caught sight of myself in the ornate mirror hanging on the wall by the door to the en-suite.

Holy freaking crap!

I almost didn’t recognize the person looking back at me. The woman in the mirror looked so tired and worn out. Dark circles shadowed my eyes, my skin paler than I remembered. Stress and constant work had hollowed my features, carving away at the softness I used to see there.

And my hair… I ran my fingers through the tangled red mess, grimacing as they caught on knots. What had once been vibrant waves now hung limp and dull, desperately in need of some TLC. Between the forest chase and sleeping on it wet, my hair looked like a family of squirrels had staged a territorial war in it, complete with fortifications and battle trenches.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts, quick and sharp. Before I could respond, it swung open, and Darla strode in with that deliberate grace that made her look both dangerous and completely at ease. Her eyes swept the room in that quick, assessing way she had, taking in everything from my disheveled state to the crumpled shirt of Derek’s I still wore. Her trademark smirk played at her lips as she crossed to the bed, moving with the casual confidence of someone who knew exactly how deadly they were.

“Got you some clothes,” she said, dropping a pile on the bed. “Figure you’d want out of that shirt.”

I hadn’t even thought about clothes.

Damn it, I had to get my life together.

“Thank you.”

“Breakfast in five. Then training.”

I frowned. “Training?”

A slight smirk tugged at her lips as she paused in the doorway on her way out. “Yup. Training. Your choice—wallow up here or get stronger.”

She turned without waiting for a response, the door clicking shut behind her with quiet finality. I stood there for a moment, staring at the space where she’d been, then slowly, deliberately, I pulled Derek’s shirt over my head, the soft fabric whispering against my skin one last time before I let it fall to the floor.

The clothes Darla had brought were the perfect fit—black leggings, fitted sky-blue tank top, white sneakers in my size, everything designed for movement.

I could do this. I could be a new person. Be the person I’d always meant to be.

And next time I saw Derek fucking Shaw, I would show him who I really was.