The Broken Promise

The small wooden cottage on the edge of the neutral zone was the only home Penelope had ever known, but as she burst through the front door, it felt like a cage.

The heavy rain had finally arrived, slamming against the tin roof with a deafening, rhythmic roar. Penelope was soaked to the bone, her long silver hair plastered against her pale cheeks, her breath coming in ragged, suffocating gasps. She slammed the door behind her, throwing the deadbolt into place with a violent click that shook the flimsy frame.

Her chest heaved. The damp, familiar scent of old books and dried lavender did nothing to calm the roaring storm inside her soul.

"Penelope? What’s wrong? Why are you back so early?"

Shenon looked up from her thick textbook, her soft, quiet eyes widening in immediate alarm as she took in her sister’s hysterical state. She pushed her silver-rimmed glasses up her nose, instantly throwing her blankets aside.

Penelope didn't answer. Her hands were shaking so violently she could barely function. She marched straight to their small wooden dresser, ripping the drawers open so hard the wood groaned. She grabbed a battered canvas duffel bag from the floor and began shoving her few belongings into it—her worn sweaters, her spare boots, her threadbare shirts.

"Penelope, talk to me!" Shenon rushed to her sister's side, grabbing her trembling wrists to force her to stop. "You went to the packhouse to tell Travis about the baby. Did you see him? What happened?"

"He lied to me, Shenon! It was all a game to him!" Penelope’s voice cracked, a harsh, jagged sob ripping from her throat as she violently yanked her wrists out of her twin’s grip. She slammed another handful of clothes into the bag. "Every single word he said under the willow tree was a lie. He never loved me. He never planned on making me his Luna."

Shenon staggered back a step, her face draining of color. "What? No, that’s impossible. Travis loves you. His wolf belongs to you, Pen. He gave you his promise—"

"He gave me a pastime!" Penelope screamed, the raw agony in her voice drowning out the sound of the thunder overhead. She turned to face her sister, her deep indigo eyes wild with a mixture of burning rage and absolute heartbreak. "I was standing right outside his office door, Shenon. I went there to tell him he was going to be a father. And I heard him tell his father that I was just a temporary distraction. A pastime. He told Marcus he would marry Alishia for her money and her territory."

Shenon gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "No... he wouldn't."

"He did!" Penelope choked out, hot tears streaming down her face, burning against her frozen skin. "He said it so easily. So coldly. Like I was nothing but a stray wolf he used to pass the time before his real life started. If I stay here, his father will find out about this baby. They’ll either force me to be a hidden mistress or they’ll tear my child away from me to protect their royal bloodline. I won’t let them touch my baby, Shenon. I won't."

In a sudden wave of blinding, suffocating fury, Penelope’s fingers flew to her collarbone. She gripped the delicate silver chain Travis had placed around her neck just hours before. The metal sparked fiercely against her skin, the fated mate bond pulsing with a sick, mocking heat.

With a brutal yank, she snapped the chain.

"Penelope, don't!" Shenon cried out.

Penelope didn't care. She hurled the beautiful moonstone pendant across the room. It clattered violently against the wooden floorboards, sliding across the dusty rug until it hit the leg of the dining table. The elegant, intertwined PT engraving on the back caught a glint of the lightning flashing through the window.

"Let him have his rich heiress," Penelope whispered, her voice dropping into a dangerous, freezing coldness as she zipped her duffel bag with a sharp, final snap. "Let him have his throne. I am leaving this pack tonight, and I am crossing into the human world. Travis is a monster, and I swear on my life, I will never let him look at me or my child again."

She leaned against the dresser, clutching her flat stomach, her entire body trembling as her grief officially hardened into a dark, impenetrable wall of anger.