Chapter 2

Molly's POV

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out—a friend request from Rose. Her profile pic was a selfie in a field of moonflowers, all bright smiles.

I paused, then hit accept.

The message came instantly, like she'd been waiting: [Molly, why'd you leave so early tonight? Logan said you should've stayed longer.]

Before I could type back, another one popped up: [Oh by the way, the necklace Derek gave me today—he said he was gonna give it to you originally?]

I stared at the screen.

Then another: [Such a shame. I really love it. You don't mind, do you?]

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. Then she sent a photo—taken by the fire, clearly a selfie, but Logan's arm was draped over the back of her chair, and Derek was across from her, grinning like an idiot at the camera. The three of them, huddled together in warm firelight.

Below it: [They always say they want to take care of me. I feel bad about it, honestly. But having them around really does make me feel safe.]

I stared at that photo for a long time.

Then I typed: [Don't mind. It's yours.]

I didn't realize how fleeting what we had really was.

They got their red rose, and suddenly I wasn't even a moon anymore—just a dim, forgotten light in the dark.

---

Over the next few days, I started clearing out everything in my room that had to do with Logan and Derek.

Figurines, trinkets, one by one off the shelves and into a cardboard box. Wolf-bone pendants. Hand-braided leather knots. The horn pendant Derek made from his first hunt—the first deer antler he ever took. The box filled up fast.

I carried it downstairs to the dumpster, and that's when I ran into them—coming back from the Moon Feast.

They spotted the two veils in the trash right away. Back when we were kids, playing house, they'd almost come to blows fighting over who'd be my mate. I ended up keeping both veils just to shut them up. They'd sworn back then that at the real mating ceremony, whoever lost had to burn theirs. I'd blinked and asked how they were so sure I'd pick one of them at all—and they both lost it, demanding I choose right then and there.

Now, seeing not just the veils but everything in the trash, they rushed over.

Derek grabbed my wrist. "Why are you throwing away everything we gave you?"

Logan's voice shook. "Molly, is this because I said you're not mature enough? Fine, be mad—but throwing all this away? That's way too far."

"I'm not mad. They got moldy. They had to go." My voice was flat. I met their eyes without flinching.

"You're really not mad?" they said in unison.

I shook my head.

Derek exhaled. Logan's shoulders relaxed too. "Well, if they're moldy, good riddance. We'll get you new stuff."

"Hey—you remember our promise, right? On your eighteenth birthday, you pick. You're still choosing between us?"

I looked at them. Said nothing. Just gave a small hum and turned away.

Yeah. That day was coming.

That night, I mind-linked my father and told him I wanted to come back to Howler.

"Molly, you really want to live here with me? I'm happy to hear that—but weren't you supposed to pick between Logan and Derek? Do they know you're leaving?"

Bitter, I answered: "I was. But I don't want either of them now. My life—it has nothing to do with them anymore."

Sensing I didn't want to explain, my father didn't push. He just promised:

"Alright. Take care of yourself these next few days. Three days—wait for me, and I'll come get you."

I've made up my mind. If they don't love me that much, if they're not sure about choosing me—then let's not drag this out. No more ties, no more pulling each other back and forth. Just let it end.