Chapter 5

The penthouse was finally quiet. After hours of unpacking and arranging furniture—most of which Savannah had insisted on "testing" by dramatically flopping onto—I was left alone with the city lights twinkling beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Lydia stretched beneath my skin, restless but content.

"Freedom." She whispered.

"Okay, spill." Savannah plopped onto the marble kitchen island, swinging her legs like a child. She pointed at the black card I’d left on the counter. "That thing just made the snobbiest real estate manager in the city bow like you were royalty. Who the hell gave it to you?"

I shrugged, pouring myself a glass of wine. "Just a friend."

"Uh-huh." She snatched the card, flipping it over to examine the embossed silver wolf insignia. Her eyes widened. "Avery. This is a Blackthorne Group card."

I nearly choked on my drink. "What?"

"Don’t play dumb." She waved it like evidence in court. "The Blackthorne Group owns half the city’s luxury properties, not to mention their overseas holdings. No one knows who actually runs it, but rumor says even the Alpha King’s court doesn’t mess with them."

She leaned in, grinning. "So. Who’s your mystery benefactor?"

I plucked the card from her fingers and tucked it back into my wallet. "Just an old friend I helped with an investment years ago. He owed me a favor."

Savannah's smirk told me she wasn't buying it.

"Now that you're done with Liam..." She said, wiggling her eyebrows, "...this mysterious benefactor of yours sounds like prime rebound material."

I sighed, twisting the black card between my fingers. "I'm not looking for anyone right now."

"Oh, please." She leaned in, her vanilla perfume sharpening as her wolf stirred with curiosity. "Don't tell me you're still hung up on that backstabbing Alpha."

My fingers stilled. "Of course not."

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. Savannah's knowing look cut deeper than any alpha command. She opened her mouth—Then her phone buzzed violently across the marble countertop.

"Ugh," she groaned, grabbing it with a snarl. "Work emergency."

The elevator doors slid open as she jabbed the button.

"This conversation..." She pointed at me with the ofending device. "... isn't over, Emerson."

The moment the doors closed, my shoulders slumped. The penthouse echoed with the silence of truths left unspoken.

Lydia whined in my chest, equally torn between pride and heartache. Some rebellions, it seemed, couldn't be solved with black cards and penthouses.

My eyes fell on the black card again. If there were anyone else I could call family, it would be Marcus. I met him in the orphanage when we were both young. He was my safe place in a world that had abandoned us both. I always took him as a reliable brother, but sometimes it felt more than that. I wanted him to be the first to see Lydia.

I still remember the moment I first saw his wolf, Ragnar. It was midnight in the orphanage courtyard—moonlight silvering the edges of his massive blackwolf form, those golden eyes burning brighter than any fire. He moved like a shadow given teeth, powerful enough to tear the world apart, yet gentle when his muzzle nudged my trembling fingers.

That night, I ached for my own wolf to rise. I wanted Lydia to emerge—wanted Marcus to be the first to see her, to recognize the other half of my soul the way I’d recognized the wild, beautiful truth of him.

But we were torn apart before my first shift. We didn't meet each other again until five years ago. Marcus had given me this card five years ago, right after the tribunal exiled Riley.

"If you ever need out.." He’d said, his dark eyes unreadable. "...use it. No questions asked."

I hadn’t used it. Not even when Liam hesitated. Not even when my parents looked at Riley like she was their real daughter. Until today.

The bathwater was scalding, just how I liked it. Steam curled around me as I sank deeper, trying to wash away the lingering scent of hospital antiseptic and betrayal.

What now? I could rebuild. Start my own company. Cut ties completely. My fingers hovered over my phone. Marcus’s number was still there, buried under years of unspoken words. Would he even answer? The last time we’d spoken, I’d told him I was staying with the Emersons.

That I had to make it work with Liam. His reply had been a single text: "Then I hope he’s worth it."

I never responded.

Until now, I didn't understand what stopped me from doing that. The doorbell rang. Lydia’s ears pricked.

Liam.

I wrapped myself in a silk robe, water dripping onto the heated floors as I padded to the door. The security screen showed a familiar broad-shouldered silhouette.

Of course he’d find me. Alpha tracking instincts and all that.

I yanked the door open. "What part of 'dissolution of engagement' was unclear?"

Liam stood there, his usually impeccable hair tousled, ice-blue eyes burning. "We need to talk."

I rolled my eyes and moved to slam the door. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my wrist with that infuriating alpha strength.

"We're still mates, Avery!" He growled. The mate bond flared between us, hot and demanding, trying to coax my submission but I didn't succumb to it.

I couldn't afford to do this time.

"Not for long!" I snarled.

"Don't you dare!" He warned like he knew what I was about to do. I pushed him away, prying my wrist off his tight hold.

Behind him, the elevator dinged again. Riley stepped out, clutching her chest like she might collapse.

"Liam, I told you—I shouldn’t—" She saw me and gasped. "Avery! Thank goodness you’re safe!"

I stared between them.

"Are you kidding me?" My voice dripped venom. “Couldn't even give me five minutes before bringing your little shadow along? Or is this a demonstration of how you literally can't function without clinging to each other?”