Chapter 3

Elena's POV

I stood outside the main office, frozen stiff like an ice sculpture. The file folder in my hand felt heavy, like the past I was about to abandon.

Just then, Kalen stepped out of the elevator, holding a stack of papers. "Elena—" But the word died in his throat as he froze next to me.

I knew. He saw the intimate scene playing out inside, too.

Pheisar, the always distant, ruthless Alpha of the Pack, was half-crouching on the floor.

His posture was careful, almost subservient. In front of him was Selene, in a pale silver gown.

Her skirt trailed on the ground. Her ankle was bare. She bowed her head slightly, her voice soft as an injured kitten. "Pheisar, gentle."

Pheisar didn't speak. He just gently raised his hand and meticulously adjusted the hem of her gown.

He looked up at her, and the tenderness in his eyes nearly froze me solid.

He had never looked at me like that.

I barely registered Kalen. An old memory resurfaced, unstoppable.

Years ago, on my first patrol with Pheisar, I fell from my horse, tearing a huge piece of skin from my calf.

The pain from the wound healing after the nightly medication kept me awake.

I tried to reach him through our MindLink, just for a small bit of comfort.

It was laughable. His response was always cold and formal, "Elena, a minor scratch like that is nothing for a werewolf. You can heal yourself."

Back then, I thought it was fine. He was the Alpha, the leader. Of course, he wouldn't care about "minor scratches." Now I knew the truth: he did care. His concern was just reserved for someone else.

A massive wave of humiliation and heartbreak washed over me.

My body trembled slightly. I mechanically took a step back, turned, and left that suffocating space.

"Elena!" Kalen chased after me, calling my name, his breath uneven from running.

I stopped. My tone was flat, like dead water. "What is it?"

"Don't overthink this," Kalen swallowed hard, trying to play the mediator. "Alpha Pheisar... he just feels sorry for Selene being hurt. She's..."

"He feels sorry for her?" I gave a small, bitter laugh. The sound was cold enough to cut, like metal scraping.

"He feels sorry for her, so he swore an oath on my amulet during the Blood Moon ceremony? So he holds her in his arms?" I looked up, staring right at Kalen's poorly hidden panic. "Kalen, I'm not an idiot."

Kalen was stunned speechless.

I slowly handed him the file folder. "Right, this is my resignation. I won't go in and bother them. You can give it to him for me. And—"

I paused, then took a small silver chain from my neck. It held a ring engraved with the northern wolf mark.

He had put it on me himself. It symbolized my honor as a Northland Guardian and... another unspoken identity.

"Please give this back to him, too." I placed the ring on the seal of the file folder.

"You... you're leaving?" Kalen was utterly shocked. "Are you serious about this? Alpha Pheisar, he won't—"

I cut him off, my voice slightly cool. "He won't let me go?"

I turned away, my back straight. But only I knew it took every ounce of strength I had to maintain that composure.

"Kalen," my voice was light as a feather, yet filled with absolute resolve, "I'm done."

I fled the headquarters and threw myself onto the unfamiliar hotel bed.

Only in this dead silent room could I barely manage to suppress Lyra's nearly insane restlessness and struggle deep inside my mind.

The silence was broken by the sudden vibration of my phone on the sheets. Kalen's name lit up the screen.

I hesitated for a second but answered.

"Elena, help," Kalen's voice was low and frantic. "Alpha Pheisar just blew up because the coffee tasted wrong. How do you usually handle it?"

I closed my eyes. All the minute details, once muscle memory, flooded back instantly.

"The water is too hot," I said into the phone, my voice so calm it felt strange even to me. "Keep the temperature at 90 degrees..."

"Wait, let me write that down—" Before Kalen could finish, I heard a steady, familiar sound of footsteps on his end—a sound that still choked me.

Then, that cold voice that made my soul tremble came through the line, sharp and clear.

"Where is Elena? Why hasn't she brought the coffee yet? Tell her to see me. Skipping the morning meeting and now nowhere to be found. Tell her there's a limit to throwing a tantrum."

My breath hitched.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand.

In his eyes, all my struggles, all our arguments, were just a woman's way of seeking attention—a mere "tantrum."

The phone line went deathly silent. I could only hear Kalen's slightly strained breathing.

"Alpha Pheisar..." Kalen's voice was dry. "Elena... she quit. That's her resignation, it's on your desk."

"Quit?"

A snort of laughter followed, so dismissive it was like hearing a bad joke.

"Where is she going? She can barely survive without the Nightshade Group." Pheisar's voice was cold and certain, as if discussing a runaway pet. "So childish. Kalen, don't indulge her drama. Tell her that if she's not in my office before tonight, she'll face the consequences."

My fingers trembled on the screen, icy cold.

"Elena, did you hear that? Alpha Pheisar..." Kalen was still trying to say something.

"I'm not going back. He can do whatever he wants." I ended the call.