Chapter 2

The hospital room soon returned to their happy atmosphere without me.

Wesley turned the dagger over in his lap — carefully now, blade still sheathed — admiring the carved bone handle. His voice was excited as he spoke.

"Last week, everyone in my class was talking about how beautiful the Caribbean seas are. When I grow up, I want to see them too. I'll definitely take this dagger with me."

Riley patted his shoulder affectionately. "Why wait until you're grown? It's no big deal — we can go see it this year."

Alexa chuckled softly. "Perfect timing. Both of us have time off at the end of the year. We'll take you."

Their conversation flowed easily as they discussed travel plans. Within half an hour, they'd even booked the flights.

Wesley grinned and bowed his head modestly. "I don't deserve all this. You two are so kind to me."

That was the line he always used. Modest, gracious, perfect.

I remembered the first time he'd used it on me — three years ago, when I'd come home to find him standing in our father's old study, holding my father's hunting rifle by the barrel. The stock was on the floor, cracked clean through where he'd been using the rifle to pry open a locked desk drawer.

Wesley had looked up at me with that same careful, modest face. “I don't deserve to be in this house at all, brother. If you don't want me here, please tell Alexa, I'll leave.”

He'd known I wouldn't. He'd known I wasn't that kind of person.

He'd left the cracked rifle propped against the wall of the study for two days after that, just to remind me.

After a while, he seemed to suddenly remember I was still there. He tilted his head and asked me:

"Brother, do you want to come too?"

I remembered that I needed to tell Alexa and Riley about my departure. This seemed like the perfect opening.

"I can't. In a few days, I'm going to the Shadow Pack — "

Riley impatiently cut me off. "Those things aren't our concern. You don't need to tell us."

The words I won't be coming back for fifteen years died in my throat. I swallowed them back down.

Riley seemed to remember something and looked at me coldly.

"Wesley wants to leave the hospital tomorrow. After the stress you put him under, staying elsewhere isn't convenient. I'm planning to have the housekeeper prepare a guest room — "

Before she could finish, I spoke softly. "Let him have my room."

Riley stopped mid-sentence.

She seemed to think she'd misheard.

She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes filled with disbelief. "What?"

After a moment of stunned silence, Alexa also frowned.

Probably thinking I was being spiteful, her tone grew irritated.

"You don't need to be like this. I know you're petty, but once Wesley's settled, he can move back to his own place."

I looked at them seriously. "Let him move in. He's young and needs care. It's inconvenient for you both to keep running back and forth. Besides, I haven't spent much time at home these past few years. The master bedroom would suit him better."

There was a loud BANG.

Riley had thrown her water bottle onto the coffee table. The sudden noise cut my words short.

Her expression darkened. She probably thought I was putting on an act.

Riley helped Wesley settle back into the hospital bed and sat down beside him, opening a book to read aloud.

Just like countless times over these past years, I had once again become the awkward, unwanted presence.

I stood up and gathered my bag from the chair.

When I spoke, my throat hurt. "I'm leaving."

No one responded.

I suddenly remembered many years ago, when our parents were killed in a fire.

Riley had held me, her eyes blood-red with grief. With that same gentle voice, she'd comforted me trembling:

"You still have your big sisters. As long as we're here, you'll always be our little brother."

Liar.

For some reason, my nose suddenly stung. I didn't let it show on my face.

I'd had four years of practice not letting it show on my face.

I rushed back to school that night and went straight to the lab to finish an experiment I'd been working on.

I only had seven days left.

In those seven days, I needed to wrap up everything — both studies and personal matters — in North City.

I worked almost the entire night.

I didn't change the bandage on my side until 3 AM. The wound had reopened during the fall. I cleaned it, applied a fresh poultice from my last batch of self-made salve, and rewrapped it tighter than before.

Then I went back to my research notes.

The next morning, after a brief nap, I returned home.

The master bedroom needed to be cleared for Wesley.

The Omega housekeeper helped me pack my things into the guest room, grumbling indignantly.

"When has the pack heir ever moved out to let an outsider have the master bedroom?"

I continued packing my books and clothes into suitcases and replied:

"It's fine. I won't be staying here much longer anyway."

Behind me, an icy voice suddenly broke the silence.

"Where exactly do you plan on going?"