Chapter 2

Darian looked up.

His eyes moved from my face to the records pressed against my chest.

“Why are you here?”

My throat tightened around the question.

“Why?”

He didn’t ask how much I’d heard.

He merely set down his pen.

“Leah, you shouldn’t have listened.”

“Knowing about this isn’t good for your recovery.”

I spread the records across his desk.

“This wasn’t a mistake?”

He said nothing.

“And the assignment before it? My shoulder? My ribs? The nerves in my hand?”

His gaze flicked over the papers.

“It isn’t as serious as you’re making it sound.”

I pulled back my sleeve.

Scars crossed my arm from wrist to elbow, some pale, others still angry and raised.

“What would make it serious?”

“Do I have to die on an assignment before you decide she’s gone too far?”

“Don’t say things like that.”

His expression hardened.

“The doctor said emotional distress will interfere with your recovery.”

For a moment, I wanted to laugh.

He was worried about me getting upset.

Not about me getting hurt.

I lowered my sleeve.

“I’m leaving fieldwork.”

Darian remained silent.

“Or you can assign me another coordinator. Surely I’m allowed to choose one of those.”

He watched me as though waiting for me to retract the demand.

I didn’t.

“Everyone knows Vera is your designated planner,” he finally said. “What will they think if you replace her now?”

My fingers tightened around the files.

“What people think of her matters more than my life?”

“Don’t put it like that.”

He held out his hand.

“Give me the records.”

I stepped back.

“No.”

It was the first time I had openly refused him in front of his men.

His hand remained extended.

“Leah. Don’t make this difficult.”

I gathered the files and turned toward the door.

Two enforcers blocked my path.

Normally, they lowered their heads and addressed me as Luna.

Now they waited for the man behind me to decide whether I could leave.

“She can go once she hands over the documents.”

One of them reached for me.

I clutched the records against my body despite the pain.

“They’re mine. They document what happened to me.”

“Darian, these prove she tampered with the assignments.”

He looked at his watch.

“Make it quick.”

The enforcer seized my wrist.

When he bent back my first finger, I was still watching Darian.

I thought he would tell him to stop.

When the second finger gave, I screamed.

Darian looked away.

By the time the files were taken, I was on my knees, my hand convulsing against my chest.

Darian carried the records to the shredder.

Page after page disappeared.

On one sheet, I caught a glimpse of his handwriting: the rehabilitation schedule he’d written beside my hospital bed.

I’d kept it with everything else because I thought it proved he cared.

Now it was gone.

He paused at the door to summon the doctor.

“Take care of her.”

As though that resolved what he had done.

A few days later, another assignment arrived at my bedside.

My fingers were still splinted.

I pushed the folder away.

“I’m not going.”

The man delivering it looked uncomfortable.

Darian came shortly afterward.

He didn’t ask whether I was in pain.

“I approved this assignment.”

“Vera planned the operation. If you withdraw now, the entire team has to be reorganized.”

“You know the system is dangerous.”

“I’ve arranged a medical team.”

I closed my eyes.

He thought he had prepared for everything.

Even my injuries.

On the morning of departure, Vera met me beside the transport vehicle.

She straightened my collar, her fingertips brushing the support around my hand.

“Try not to disappoint me again.”

Her smile never changed.

On-site, the alarm sounded before the briefing said it could.

I looked up.

The electrical discharge struck before I could pull away.

My body hit the silver-lined frame.

Then there was nothing.

When I woke, a day had passed.

I tried to move my arm. Pain shot deep into the bone.

Flowers stood beside the bed.

The card read:

*Rest. I’ll come by later.*

I stared at the familiar handwriting.

Then I picked up my phone.

This time, I didn’t call my husband.

“Elder Aldric.”

My voice sounded strangely calm.

“Does your offer still stand?”

There was a pause.

“You’ve finally come to your senses?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll leave Darian. I’ll dissolve the marriage and withdraw our mate registration. I won’t come back.”

His satisfaction was unmistakable.

“You should have agreed sooner. He needs to settle down, manage the pack and the family businesses, and marry someone capable of continuing the bloodline.”

I looked at my bandaged arm.

I didn’t explain whose decisions had destroyed my chance at the peaceful life he claimed his son deserved.

“In one month, I’ll arrange your departure from Ravenport,” he continued. “The funds and documents will be delivered.”

“All right.”

The paperwork arrived quickly.

A lawyer indicated each place requiring my signature.

I could barely control the pen.

On my first attempt, its tip tore through the paper.

“We can come back another day,” he offered.

“No.”

I took a fresh copy.

Slowly, painfully, I wrote my name.

Three years earlier, I’d signed it to enter Darian’s life.

This time, I was signing my way out.

The lawyer collected the documents and explained that the remaining steps would be handled through the appointed representatives.

I listened carefully.

For once, I didn’t want Darian to handle anything for me.

After the lawyer left, I sat alone with my hand throbbing.

For the first time in weeks, the pain didn’t feel endless.

There was a date now.

One month.

I only had to survive until then.

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