Renaissance : laisser mon mari à son amie d'enfance

Prolouge

The acrid stench of burning wood and blood filled Raine’s lungs as she stumbled through the ruins of her home. Smoke curled in thick tendrils, choking the night sky and her lungs, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

Her little sister’s tiny fingers were locked in a death grip around hers, sticky with sweat and soot. Raine barely felt it. Her entire body was numb, running on nothing but adrenaline and the desperate, bone-deep instinct to survive.

Her mother had told her to run. So that was what she was going to do.

She wasn’t going to think about the sickening crack that had echoed through the backyard when they snapped her father’s neck. She wasn’t going to think about the way her mother had screamed, her voice raw and broken, as they did the same to her other two mates.

No. Fuck that.

She clenched her jaw and kept moving, ignoring the sting in her eyes, whether from the smoke or the tears, she didn’t know. None of it mattered. Not the fire licking at the shattered remains of their home. Not the scent of death thick in the air.

All that mattered was getting out.

Survive. That was the only thought pounding through her skull. Survive and keep running. Keep her sister safe.

She had to.

She had no other choice.

Raine

10 years later

I wake up covered in cold sweat, my breath shallow, my heart hammering like I just ran for my fucking life.

That dream again.

For years, I used to wake up screaming, clawing at the sheets like I could fight off ghosts. But it had been two years since the last time. I thought I’d finally buried it, shoved it deep enough that it would never resurface. Guess I was wrong.

A familiar sense of dread curls in my gut, and I fucking hate it. It’s the same feeling I had that night, like something terrible is coming, and I’m powerless to stop it.

My wolf shifts uneasily, the faint growl in the back of my mind making my skin prickle. She’s been on edge for days now, pacing like a caged animal, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing’s wrong, I tell her, but we both know i wasn't sure of it. Still, I shove the thoughts aside and force myself out of bed.

The floor is freezing under my bare feet as I hobble to the bathroom, hoping....... praying, that my sister isn’t in there. She always takes forever, and I don’t have the patience for that shit today.

Blessedly, it’s empty.

I strip down and step under the shower, wincing as the ice-cold water crashes over me. The damn heater broke months ago, and our grimy landlord sure as hell wasn’t going to fix it. Not unless we magically pulled a few hundred bucks out of our asses. But this place was cheap, and more importantly, no one asked questions.

So we were stuck.

I grit my teeth and power through the shower, letting the cold water wash away the last traces of the nightmare. It doesn’t help much.

Something’s coming.

I don’t know what, but I can feel it.

And I fucking hate it.

"You look like shit," Nova says the second she lays eyes on me.

"Thanks," I deadpan, shooting her a tired look. She just laughs.

"I made breakfast. You should eat before you leave for work," she adds as I make a beeline for the only thing I need more than air right now......coffee.

I let out a low groan of satisfaction after a few deep sips, eyes half-lidded like I’m having a religious experience. When I glance up, Nova’s face is twisted in disgust, her nose wrinkled like I just drank sewer water.

I put a protective hand around my cup. "It’s mine. I’m not sharing."

She rolls her eyes. "As if I’d ever want that poor excuse for a drink."

I gasp, offended. "Take that back!!"

But before I can launch into a full-blown defense of my caffeine addiction, she’s already grabbing her bag and heading for the door. "Anyway, I’m off. See you later."

I swallow my retort, shooting her a knowing look as she leaves. She’ll be eating her words when she starts working and realizes coffee is the only thing keeping adults from full-blown insanity.

Dragging my plate closer, I drown my stack of pancakes in syrup and eat in a rush, glancing at the clock. Shit. If I don’t get moving now, I’ll be late for the third time this week.

And yeah, I may be a damn good barista, but even I have limits to how much of Terry’s disapproving stares I can take before I start foaming at the mouth.

I shove the last bite into my mouth and get ready in record time, yanking on my usual leggings, tank top, and jacket before slipping into my worn sneakers. Then I step out into the street, bracing myself for another long-ass day.

In record time, I step into Déjà Brew. Corny name, I know, but I love it. And I’ve loved working here for the past few months, which only makes it more painful knowing I’ll have to leave soon.

I shove the thought aside and inhale the rich, addictive scent of brewing coffee before rushing to the back to throw on my uniform. If I don’t get moving, Terry will come out growling, ironic, considering he’s the human and I’m the one with the temperamental wolf. The thought makes me chuckle as I pull the shop’s signature shirt over my head and tie on my apron.

"Hey, Raine!"

I turn to see Lisa, one of the waitresses I actually like. She’s fun, a little too nice for her own good, and always has the best stories.

"Hey, Lisa. How was the date last night?"

Her face contorts in disgust. "Horrible. He was late, on his phone half the damn time, and then...... get this, his phone starts ringing, and guess what the contact name was?"

I arch a brow. "Don’t tell me....."

"Wifey."

I wince. "Yikes."

"Yeah. I walked out after that. Can you believe it? The man was married." She groans dramatically. "Ugh, when am I going to find my Mr. Right?"

Her words make my wolf shift uneasily, a pang of sadness rolling through me. In a perfect world, I would have found our mates by now. But life unfortunately wasn't perfect, besides, I wasn’t worried about myself, Nova was my only priority, and I didn’t need anything else. I just had to believe that

"Sorry, love," I say, giving her a sympathetic look. "Please tell me you at least threw a drink in his face."

Lisa sighs. "I wish I was that confrontational, Raine. But unfortunately, I just paid for my food and left while he was in the bathroom."

I chuckle, then sober up when I see the disappointment on her face. Lisa is the least confrontational person I know, way too nice for this world, and she’s had nothing but bad luck with guys. She deserves better.

I grab her hands and squeeze. "You’ll meet the one soon," I say firmly. "I just know it."

She squeezes back, then grins mischievously. "Well, I hope so, cause mama needs some of that vitamin D."

I burst out laughing, shaking my head. "Lisa!"

What would I do without her?

The rest of work passes in a blur. The only hiccup is a Karen who insists her order is wrong, even after I remake her drink, twice. But honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Wolves don’t usually venture this far into the city. Most stick to their packs, and the few that pass through are either running from something or have some special dealings going on that's keeping them outside pack territory and of course the occasional rogue. Either way, I stay out of their way, letting the other barista take their order and praying they don’t notice me.

By the time I leave, the sky is painted in dusky oranges and purples, the air thick with the smell of car exhaust and street food. I walk the short distance to our grimy apartment building, stepping around a suspiciously dark stain on the sidewalk. Don’t think about it too hard.

The front door sticks, as always, and I have to shove my shoulder against it before it gives way. After climbing three flights of creaky stairs, I finally reach our door and step inside.

Silence greets me.

Nova’s probably still at the library, studying for her SATs. Nerd. I snigger to myself before looking around our tiny apartment.

The space is cramped, with just enough room for a small couch that sags in the middle, a scratched-up coffee table we got secondhand, and a kitchen shoved into one corner with barely enough counter space to cook a decent meal. The walls are a dull, off-white color with peeling paint near the ceiling, and the single window overlooking the alley lets in more city noise than actual fresh air.

It’s nothing fancy, hell, it barely qualifies as livable, but it’s home.

Our shared bedroom is even smaller, just two beds crammed into opposite corners with a wobbly nightstand in between. My side is messy, clothes tossed over the bed, an old laptop sitting on top of a pile of books. Nova’s side is painfully neat, everything in perfect order, like she’s afraid of losing control of even the smallest detail.

It’s not much.

But it’s safe.

And for now, that’s enough.