Chapter 2

"Elena?" Sera called me soon, laced with worry. "Are you okay?"

I sat in the back of the taxi, watching the city lights blur past the window.

"I'm fine," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll be there tomorrow."

"That's great!" Sera's voice instantly brightened. "I always said you should have come build the Crescent Moon Pack with me. Remember five years ago? When I asked you to be my partner..."

Five years ago.

Back when Damon had just become Alpha and needed my support to secure his position.

I chose him. I turned down Sera's offer.

"I remember," I said softly. "If I'd said yes then, maybe things would be different now."

"Don't say that," Sera's tone softened. "The choices you made then made you who you are today. And now, you're free."

Free.

The word felt both foreign and beautiful.

"Elena, I'll have someone pick you up. We'll sign the partnership agreement tomorrow."

"Okay."

After ending the call, I gave the taxi driver a new address.

Not a hotel.

The apartment I shared with Damon.

I had a few things to take care of.

The apartment was dark.

I didn't turn on the lights, using my werewolf night vision to navigate the familiar space.

By the living room fireplace stood the wolf sculpture I had carved myself.

Two wolves, curled together, a symbol of an eternal mate bond.

It had taken me a whole month to finish it.

Every detail was filled with my hopes for our future.

Now, it was covered in a layer of dust.

No one cared.

Just like our relationship.

I walked over and picked up the sculpture.

I lifted it high, then smashed it onto the floor.

CRACK!

Crystalline fragments scattered everywhere, glittering in the dark.

Just like my shattered heart.

My phone buzzed.

A new notification from the pack's internal channel.

Isabella had posted a video.

I didn't want to watch it, but curiosity won.

In the video, Isabella was wearing a tight red dress, standing somewhere I’d never been.

It was a massive underground garage.

The walls were lined with priceless supercars and vintage models.

Damon's private collection.

He once told me, "That's my personal space. No one is allowed in."

Including me, his mate.

In the video, Damon walked toward a silver Aston Martin.

A limited edition, worth three million dollars.

His most prized possession.

"Tonight, I'll show you what real speed is," he said to Isabella, placing the keys in her hand.

Isabella shrieked with excitement, like a child with a new toy.

"Really? I've never driven a car this expensive!"

"Of course," Damon's voice was full of indulgence. "You can do whatever you want."

They drove out of the garage and headed for the family's private racetrack.

A sacred place only those of Alpha blood were allowed to enter.

The video ended with a shot of Isabella tearing down the track, laughing wildly into the night.

And Damon stood on the sidelines, his eyes full of admiration.

Posted: Thirty minutes ago.

Caption: First time feeling real speed! Thanks to my Alpha for showing me a different world!

I turned off my phone, a wave of nausea rolling in my stomach.

It wasn't jealousy.

It was heartache.

The sound of the lock turning broke the silence.

Damon was back.

"Elena?" His voice echoed in the darkness. "You're home?"

I didn't answer.

He flipped on the living room lights.

When he saw the shattered pieces on the floor, he froze.

"Is that... our sculpture?" He knelt, trying to pick up the pieces.

"Don't touch it," my voice was as cold as ice.

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with confusion.

"Elena, why would you break it? You poured your heart into this..."

"Because what it represents doesn't exist anymore."

He stood up and tried to walk toward me.

"I can explain what happened tonight."

"Explain what?" I took a step back, my eyes red. "Explain why you took Isabella to your private garage? Or why you let her drive your most prized car?"

"I was just teaching a new pack member," he said, his tone a little defensive. "She needs to understand the pack's..."

"Enough," I cut him off. "Don't treat me like an idiot."

He kept walking toward me, trying to take my hand.

"Elena, listen to me. Isabella means nothing to me. You're the one I love."

His hand touched my cheek.

In that instant, I caught a sweet, cloying scent.

Isabella’s scent.

On his skin, on his clothes, even in his hair.

My stomach churned. I recoiled, shoving him away. I scrubbed the back of my hand across my lips, a desperate attempt to wipe away the phantom touch and the foul scent of his betrayal.