No names

Lila’s POV.

I wasn't really sure how I reached that point, but then I suddenly noticed my unsteady feet not knowing where they were headed. Eventually, my legs brought me to the house where she lived. The lights were still on though it was late. My chest tightened.

Knock knock I mumbled.

"Who's there?” came the grumpy voice.

"Lila..." I responded feebly.

"Enter," came the voice from inside.

The door opened, and "Thank you for letting me in," I said, accompanied by an outward smile that failed to reach my heart.

Marissa turned to look at me from behind the kitchen counter. Hair perfect, smile perfect. Her eyes skimmed over me and narrowed.

"Did you really follow me?”

My throat hurt. "Please... I need to talk to you."

She folded up, leaning against the doorframe.

Yes, I nodded rapidly. "Please. He's—he's my mate. Don't take him from me. Whatever he told you, whatever you feel… please just leave him alone. You can find someone else. Anyone else."

Her lips curled. "Leave him alone? Do you hear yourself? He came to me, omega. He chose me. And why shouldn't he? Look at you: tired, pathetic, begging in the middle of the night. It ain't my fault you don't know how to keep a man, I mean... he knew he was YOUR man before he came to me."

My eyes began to sting. "I love him. I will fix this. I will quit working too much; I will make time. Just...don't ruin us. Please."

Marissa laughed. "Us? There is no us. You really think a man like Ethan wants to waste his life in someone like you? Weak. Ordinary. You should thank me for freeing him."

“I'm really broken here,” I whispered as tears started to roll down.

The door opened behind me. His scent hit first, sharp and familiar. Ethan.

"What are you doing here, Lila?" His voice appeared to be attempting to hold the irritation in.

I turned, gasping. "Ethan, please. I can't-don't do this. Not like this. We can fix us. Don't throw me away."

Stepping forward, his eyes flashing, he shouted, "You don't get it, do you? I don't want you anymore."

I shook my head furiously, one hand gripping at his hand. "Don't say that. Please, not in front of her. Not in front of everyone."

He jerked away from me. "Let everyone hear. I'm over you, Lila. Stop forcing yourself on me. Stop embarrassing yourself. You're nothing to me."

Others gasped outside, heads against windows watching. Whispering. Laughing.

"Don't—" My voice cracked, and I fell silent.

"Pathetic," he spat. "You'll never be enough. Not for me, not for anyone."

Marissa was gleefully smirking at him, her hand sliding over his arm like she already belonged there.

Heat rushed in my face, burning hotter than shame in my chest. Their laughter mingled with the whispers outside till I couldn't breathe anymore and my chest was on a squeeze, my tears spilling faster now.

I stumbled backward, shaking my head. "I can't-"

Then I ran.

Out the door, down the street, past the stares and cruel smiles. My lungs burned, my legs gave out, but I kept running.

I didn't stop until neon lights glowed in the distance - the club at the far edge of the pack's land.

⸻

Inside the bass hit me hard; heavy at first, then pulsing, drowning every thought into oblivion, while the air hung fetid with sweat, liquor, and smoke. Wolves pressed their gnarly bodies against each other on the dance floor, their laughs wild and careless.

I mounted a barstool, attempting to still my trembling hands. "Whiskey," I murmured.

The burn was sharp, and I welcomed it. Glass became two, then three. The ache dulled in my chest, and night's edges blurred.

"Rough night?" a voice asked.

I looked up, and there he stood beside me, all tall and broad-shouldered, with eyes of a strange blue color caught in that dim light. His expression bore no smile, just studied me quietly.

I chuckled to myself bitterly, "You could say that."

He occupied the space next to me to catch the attention of the bartender for more alcohol. "Want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. My throat was tight. "No. I just… I need to ask you something."

His brow crinkled. "What?"

I stared at him, vision swimming. "Do you think I'm ugly?"

His eyes softened. "No. You're beautiful."

Almost brought to the edge of tears by the sincerity in his voice, the tears spilled before I had even considered trying to hold them back. "Then what was wrong with me?"

He didn't answer. He didn't need to. He just reached out, his fingers brushing mine, steady and warm.

"Sometimes," he said softly, "it's not about you. Sometimes it's about them being blind."

Something inside me cracked; I didn't want pity; I wanted forgetting; to feel something other than pain. I swallowed it thick. "Take me away from here."

His jaw tightened, but he consented. Without a word, he took me through the writhing crowd, down dark hallways, into a private room.

The music dimmed behind the door. I drew sharp breaths. His eyes asked mine if I was sure.

I brought him closer.

We had not exchanged names, nor did we need to, for I gave myself that night to a stranger with a desperate, empty hope of drowning in something but that hollowness which Ethan had left behind.

Immediately we finished, he fell asleep. I lay beside him, breaths being the only sound till I felt a burning sensation.

My neck—burned like fire. I gasped, clutching it tightly while the pain ripped through me like Ethan's rejection was already branded on my skin all over again.

It burned, until I thought I would scream but it stopped just as suddenly as it started.

I lay trembling in the dark, staring at the form of the sleeping stranger. We hadn't even exchanged names.

And yet, tonight was the only bond I had ever known.