Chapter 3

Snow began falling that evening.

Damon returned to the main house after a pack council meeting, bringing the bitter cold in with him.

He stepped into the hall, swept his gaze across the room, and frowned.

A maid approached him nervously.

“Alpha, Lady Serena moved into the storage room in the north wing today.”

Damon’s expression darkened.

He stormed down the corridor and kicked open the storage-room door.

It slammed against the wall with a deafening crack.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the snowfall. I turned to face him.

Damon crossed the small room and looked over its bare walls before his attention fixed on the half-empty travel bag beside me.

“What game are you playing now, Serena?” he demanded.

“Ivy only asked for the master bedroom. Who told you to move into a place like this? Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

I stood and met his stare.

“Your maid said you ordered the servants to give me this room. It makes no difference to me where I sleep.”

My indifference infuriated him.

He seized my wrist hard enough to hurt.

My sleeve slid up, exposing the jagged scar that ran the length of my forearm.

I had gotten it three years ago while shielding him from an attack by a rival pack.

A wolf’s claws had torn my arm open, and I had nearly bled to death.

Damon stared at the scar. There was no tenderness in his eyes, only irritation.

“Do you leave that exposed just to remind me that I owe you?”

“Ivy is sensitive. She saw it today and was so frightened she couldn’t eat lunch.”

“From now on, you’ll wear long sleeves in this house. If you can’t manage that, move into one of the guard cabins at the edge of the territory. I don’t want Ivy seeing you.”

He chose every cruel word to hurt me, waiting for me to defend myself the way I once would have.

He wanted tears. He wanted anger. Most of all, he wanted me to break and beg his forgiveness.

I looked at the fury twisting his face and felt nothing but calm.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry.

I pulled my wrist free and picked up my travel bag.

“All right. I’ll move to a guard cabin now.”

I walked past him and headed for the door.

That was what finally shattered his control.

He had expected a fight. Instead, my obedience felt like an insult.

Damon followed me, tore the bag from my hand, and yanked open the front door.

Snow and wind roared into the hall.

He hurled my bag outside and pointed into the storm.

“If you insist on putting on this ridiculous act, then get out of my territory! Don’t ever come back!”

“Let’s see how long a penniless orphan like you survives without me.”

I stood in the doorway in a thin cashmere sweater, with no coat to protect me from the storm.

The wind cut across my face like a blade.

I looked at my bag in the snow, then stepped outside without hesitation.

I walked into the storm and never looked back.

Damon watched from the doorway before slamming it shut behind me.

The sound echoed through the winter night.

I bent to retrieve my bag and brushed away the snow.

My phone lit up.

I answered. My father’s voice came through the speaker.

“Serena, the Silver Moon convoy just crossed into Obsidian territory. Your brother and I will be there in half an hour.”

The storm intensified. Ice-laced wind drove snow against my face.

Cold seeped through the weave of my sweater and sank into my bones. Before long, my legs were numb, each step stiff and painful.

I kept moving. Not once did I glance back at the black doors of the Obsidian main house.

By the time I reached the edge of the territory, twelve black vehicles bearing the Silver Moon crest had lined up across the road.

The rear door of the center vehicle flew open.

My father and brother climbed out and strode toward me through the snow.

The moment my father saw my thin clothes and blue lips, rage flared in his eyes.

He tore off his coat, wrapped it tightly around me, and pulled me into his arms.

“Damon sent you out into a storm dressed like this?” His jaw locked, his voice tight with fury and grief. “I’m sorry, Serena. I should have reached you sooner.”

I leaned against the strength and warmth of his shoulder, surrounded by a sense of safety I had forgotten long ago.

I shook my head.

“You came at exactly the right time. Take me home, Dad.”

My father lifted me into the back seat. My brother climbed in after us and held my frozen hand between both of his.

Warm air filled the car, and feeling slowly began returning to my limbs.

The convoy turned around in the storm and sped toward Silver Moon territory.