CHAPTER 2

Nora’s POV

Elder Morrison's office smelled like old leather and burnt coffee. The morning light came through the tall window behind his desk and landed on the divorce papers spread out between us like a line drawn in the sand.

I sat down. I picked up the pen. And I signed.

No tears. No trembling. No dramatic pause. I just wrote my name on every line, page after page, steady and clear, like I was signing a receipt at a grocery store.

I could feel Damien behind me. He stood by the window with his arms crossed and his shoulders tight. He was watching me. Waiting. I knew exactly what he expected. He expected me to break. To cry. To throw the pen across the room and beg him to reconsider.

I signed the last page and set the pen down.

Elder Morrison adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable, the way people look when they know they're standing in the middle of someone else's wreckage.

"The pack's divorce law requires a mandatory one month waiting period before the dissolution is officially recognized. During this time, both parties remain legally bound and must continue to reside within pack territory."

One month. Thirty days of breathing the same air as Damien and Rachel.

I folded my hands on the desk. "Is there any way to skip it? Or shorten it? An exception, an appeal, anything?"

Elder Morrison shook his head. His eyes were gentle. Pitying. I hated pity more than I hated cruelty. "I'm afraid not, my dear. Pack law is absolute on this matter. One month from today, no exceptions."

"Thank you, Elder Morrison. I understand." I stood up, pushed in my chair, and picked up my bag.

Behind me, Damien's voice cut through the room like a blade. Low and tight, wrapped in something that sounded almost like anger.

"You seem awfully eager to get out, Nora."

I stopped but I didn't turn around. "You asked me for a divorce. I signed it. What more do you want from me, Damien?"

"I want to know why you're trying to rush the process." His footsteps moved closer. I could feel the heat of him behind me, feel his breath near the back of my neck. "Yesterday you were throwing around fake pregnancy stories and today you can't wait to run. Explain that to me."

My fingernails dug into the strap of my bag. "It's not fake."

"Right." The word dripped with sarcasm. "So which is it, Nora? Are you heartbroken or are you in a hurry? Because you can't be both."

I turned around and looked at him. Really looked at him. The sharp jaw, the dark eyes, the face I had spent three years memorizing, loving, waiting for. The face that never once looked at me the way it was about to look at Rachel the moment she walked into this room.

"Maybe I'm just tired, Damien. Did you ever consider that? Maybe after three years of loving someone who treated me like I was invisible, I'm just tired."

Something moved across his face. Quick and raw. But before he could answer, the door behind him opened and Rachel walked in.

She moved slowly, leaning on her cane, her long brown hair falling like silk over one shoulder. Her eyes were wide and soft and shining with that gentle, wounded look she wore like armor.

"Oh." She pressed her free hand to her chest. "Am I interrupting? I can come back."

"You're not interrupting," I told her. "We're finished."

Rachel tilted her head and gave me a smile so sweet it made my teeth ache. "Nora, I really do hope there are no hard feelings between us. I know this must be incredibly painful for you and I feel just awful about the whole situation."

I watched her eyes while she talked. They didn't match her mouth. Her lips said sympathy but her eyes said victory.

"I want you to know that I never intended to come between you two," she continued, her voice trembling just enough to sound believable. She reached out and rested her fingers on Damien's arm. Light. Possessive. Practiced. "It's just that some women... well, some women just aren't meant to hold on to a good man. It's nobody's fault, really."

The room went very still. Elder Morrison looked down at his papers. Damien said nothing.

I stood there with the full weight of that sentence sitting on my chest and I felt something shift inside me. Not sadness. Not anger. Something clearer than both.

I picked up my bag and looked at Rachel with steady eyes. "You're absolutely right, Rachel. Some women aren't meant to hold on."

Her smile widened.

"And some women are smart enough to let go."

I walked past both of them, past the elder, past the heavy oak door, and into the hallway. My heels clicked on the stone floor and I didn't slow down. I didn't look back. Not even when I heard Damien say my name behind me in that low, rough voice that used to make my stupid heart flip inside my chest.

The fresh air hit my face when I stepped outside and I took one long, deep breath.

Twenty nine days. I just had to survive twenty nine days. I could do that. I had survived three years of being unloved. What was twenty nine more days?

I put my hand on my stomach and whispered so quiet nobody could hear.

"We're getting out of here, little one. I promise you."