CHAPTER 3

The door suddenly bursts open. I don’t even jump. I just sigh.

Layla doesn’t knock. She doesn’t announce herself. She doesn’t walk into a room like a regular person.

She breaks in.

“One day, I swear you’re going to knock like a civilized human being,” I say, looking on as she struts in awake like she owns the place.

Layla snorts. "Where’s the fun in that?" She slams the door behind her, arms crossed over her waist, eyes raking my body like a hunter. "Okay. First of all, why do you look like you just had your own funeral?”

I arch a brow. "I don’t."

"You do."

I roll my eyes. “I just didn’t know that looking into a mirror made you a psychologist.”

Layla grins. "That’s the spirit. ‘Keep up that sarcasm, we might survive this night’”

She walks over to my dressing table, where two dresses are laid out — both far too fancy for a girl like me.

I already know what’s coming.

She taps the red dress. "Wear this one."

I shake my head. “I was thinking the black one.”

Layla gasps like I just told her to burn the packhouse down. "Absolutely not! Black is for blending in, and tonight, my darling Naomi Carter, we are not blending in. You’re going to go in there and own the damn room.”

“Or, and hear me out, I can go in, enjoy the party, and leave without anyone noticing me.”

Layla looks as if she were personally insulted. “Why do I even bother with you?

I smirk. “Because I make your life a little more interesting.”

She huffs but doesn’t refute it.

The Ghost That Haunts Me

While Layla keeps herself occupied with the make-over process I get lost in thought.

Five years.

It’s been five years since I was rejected. Five years since he spoke the words that tore me to pieces without pausing.

"Wolfless. Worthless."

“You thought someone like you would ever be my Luna?

I was eighteen.

I never had loved anyone before — never even really thought much about what it would be like to belong to someone in that way. But then I turned eighteen, felt the mate bond click into place, and thought, this is the one.

Fate had chosen him for me.

And he had stared me in the eyes and spat in fate’s face.

I was nothing to him. Less than nothing.

Because so I was weak in his eyes.

“A pathetic person such as you sickens me.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, pushing the memory away before it can sink its claws in further.

I hate that it still hurts.

I hate that some small part of me still feels that bond pull.

It’s pathetic.

And the worst part? He never even officially declined me.

I still feel the bond. And my wolf — Haven — still aches for a mate who never wanted her.

Two years after my departure from the pack, she had surfaced.

A surprise, given that I’d been told I was wolfless. Turns out, Haven was always there, lying dormant within me.

Nobody knows about her. Not even my parents.

And especially not him.

Layla’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. "You’re doing it again."

I blink at her image in the mirror. "Doing what?"

"Thinking about him."

I start to deny it, but she just deadpans at me. "Naomi, please. “I can feel the self-hatred coming in.”

I look away. “I wasn’t thinking about him at all.

“You’re terrible at lying,” she says bluntly.

I sigh. "Fine. Maybe I was. A little."

Layla crosses her arms. “Are you still secretly hoping that he’ll see you tonight and drop to his knees in regret?”

I glare at her. “There isn’t enough money to pay me for that.

"That’s the attitude!" she grins. “Now let’s work on them getting you to actually believe it.”

She sits on my bed and gives me the eye. “You’ve got to get him out of your system. And not just him — the whole damn past. You can’t keep making this weight like it’s some punishment you deserve.'

"I don’t—"

“Yes, you do,” she interrupts me. “I have this feeling that you believe this entire thing is your fault. That had you are stronger or louder or more — whatever. He wanted you.

I stare at the ground, unable to meet her eyes.

“Naomi,” she says, more gentle this time. “You don’t need him to desire you. You don’t require anyone to affirm you. You’ve been busy five years showing that you’re not the same girl he threw out. But now it’s time for you to really live like that’s true.’

Something in my chest aches.

Because she’s right.

I departed, yes, but I never really went away.

And that ends tonight.

I catch Layla’s eyes in the mirror. "Fine," I say. "Let’s do this."

She grins. "Damn right we will."

The Queen Walks In

One hour later, we went downstairs.

My parents are waiting for us, and when they see me, my father whistles low.

“My daughter is a woman now,” he says, his eyes gleaming with pride.

My mother beams. "Of course she has. She’s turning out just like me, after all.”

Layla snorts. “Humble as ever, Aunt Lily.”

We all laugh, but my mom has a point. I am like her — same hazel eyes, same brown hair, same quiet strength. A strength I hadn’t been sure I had, until now.

And tonight, for the first time in many moons, I think I feel like her daughter.

Like I belong.

“You girls coming with us?” my mother says, pulling her shawl tighter. “Theo and Clara already went.”

Layla waves a hand, as if brushing the request away. “We’ll take Naomi’s car. We’re fashionably late.”

I smirk. “Did you get the ‘late’ part?”

Layla grins. “Exactly. Let them wait.”

The packhouse is a short walk away, but we’re not going to hoof it in heels — not the way we intend to arrive.

As my parents’ car drives away, I feel it suddenly.

A shift. A tension coiling low in my belly, winding tight like the string on a bow.

He’ll be there.

I know it as well as I know my own name.

What’s he gonna do when he sees me?

Will he acknowledge me? Will he regret it?

A malevolent little voice in the back of my head whispers — Will I even care?

I shake my head sharply. No. Doesn’t matter.

Tonight isn’t about him.

It’s about me.

Layla elbows me, a knowing grin on her face. “You ready?”

I mirror her gaze, inhaling, steadying myself.

Then I say, with a slow, confident smile —

“Let’s go make history.”