Chapter 4

ERIN

Two weeks. That's how long I lasted before everything went sideways again.

I'd actually started to believe I was safe. My new blonde hair, the fake glasses Maya had gotten me, the slight change in how I walked and talked—I was becoming Sarah Mitchell more each day. The morning sickness was brutal, but I'd learned to hide it, sneaking crackers between serving tables and fighting through the waves of nausea.

I should have known it was too good to last.

It was a Friday night, the brewery packed with wolves from all over the territory. I was carrying a tray of beers to table six when I saw him.

Not Marty. Not Marcus.

Clay.

Marty's younger brother sat in the corner booth, his sandy brown hair longer than I remembered, his green eyes scanning the crowd. My wolf recognized his scent immediately, and panic shot through me like lightning.

The tray slipped. I caught it just in time, but beer sloshed over the edges of the glasses.

"Whoa there, Sarah," Jake, one of the other servers, steadied me with a hand on my elbow. "You okay?"

"Fine," I squeaked, then cleared my throat. "Just tired."

Clay's head turned at the sound of my voice. Our eyes met across the crowded room, and I saw the exact moment recognition flickered in his gaze. His eyes widened, then narrowed, and he started to stand.

No. No, no, no.

I practically threw the beers at table six and rushed toward the kitchen. But Clay was faster. He caught my arm just as I reached the swinging doors.

"Erin?" His voice was low, uncertain. "Is that really you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, not meeting his eyes. "My name is Sarah."

"Bullshit." He spun me around, studying my face. "Hair's different, but those eyes... Erin, what the hell happened to you?"

"Let go of me," I said quietly. "Please."

"My brother's been going crazy looking for you. He sent Marcus—"

"I know what he sent Marcus to do," I snapped, yanking my arm free. "Your brother made it very clear he was done with me. So why can't he just let me go?"

Clay's expression softened. "He made a mistake. Cassandra... it didn't work out. She left after three days. Said Marty was too obsessed with finding you to be a proper mate."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "How unfortunate for him."

"Erin, please. Just come back. Talk to him."

"There's nothing to talk about." I started to turn away, but Clay grabbed my wrist again. This time, his grip was firmer.

"You don't understand," he said urgently. "He's not himself. He's drinking too much, snapping at everyone. The pack is starting to question his leadership. He needs you."

"He needs a Luna with proper bloodlines," I shot back. "His words, not mine."

"He was an idiot—"

"Yes, he was." I met Clay's eyes fully for the first time. "And I'm done being treated like I'm disposable. Now let go of me before I scream and bring every wolf in this place down on your head."

Clay's jaw clenched, but he released me. "This isn't over."

"Yes, it is."

I pushed through the kitchen doors, my heart hammering. Maya was there, having watched the whole exchange through the serving window.

"Go upstairs," she said immediately. "Lock the door. I'll handle this."

But as I turned to leave through the back exit, the front doors of the brewery exploded open.

Marty stood there, looking like absolute hell. His usually perfect black hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled, dark circles under those brown eyes that used to look at me with such warmth. His gaze swept the room until it landed on me, frozen in the doorway.

"Erin," he breathed, and something in his voice made my traitorous heart skip.

The entire brewery went silent. Every wolf in the place could feel the tension, the Alpha power rolling off him in waves.

"Alpha Blackstone," Maya stepped forward, but Marty didn't even look at her.

"We need to talk," he said, moving toward me.

"No," I said, finding my voice. "We don't."

"You're my mate—"

"Was," I corrected, lifting my chin. "I was your mate. Until you threw me out for someone with better breeding."

Several wolves in the brewery whispered among themselves. Public rejection was rare, and a scandal involving an Alpha? This would be gossip for months.

"I made a mistake," Marty said, and those three words probably cost him more than anyone knew. Alphas didn't admit mistakes. Not publicly.

"Yes, you did." I took a step back. "And I've made a new life. One that doesn't include you."

His eyes flashed amber, his wolf rising to the surface. "You belong with me."

"I belong to no one," I snarled, my own wolf surging forward.

That's when I felt it—the slight flutter in my belly. So faint I might have imagined it, but my wolf knew. The baby. Our first real connection.

Marty must have seen something change in my expression because he stepped closer. "Erin?"

"Stay back," Alpha Connor appeared, placing himself between us. "You're in my territory, Blackstone. The lady has made her wishes clear."

"This is pack business—"

"She's not your pack anymore," Connor said calmly. "By your own choice, if I heard correctly."

Marty's fists clenched. For a moment, I thought he might actually attack Connor, which would have been suicide. Connor was older, more experienced, and had his entire pack backing him.

"Please," Marty said, and the word sounded like it was ripped from his throat. His eyes found mine again. "Just five minutes. Let me explain."

"Explain what?" I asked, my voice harder than I felt. "How you let your advisors convince you I wasn't good enough? How you chose politics over love? How you had me escorted to the border like a criminal?"

"I was trying to protect you!" he burst out.

The brewery went even quieter, if that was possible.

"Protect me?" I laughed, but it sounded hollow. "From what?"

"From—" He stopped, his jaw clenching. "It doesn't matter now."

"It does matter. But you know what matters more?" I stepped around Connor, facing Marty fully. "I don't care anymore. Whatever your reasons, whatever your excuses, you made your choice. And now I've made mine."

"You still love me," he said quietly. "I can feel it through what's left of our bond."

He was right. Damn him, he was right. But love wasn't enough. Not anymore.

"Love isn't enough when there's no trust," I said. "Goodbye, Marty."

I turned and walked toward the stairs, each step feeling like a mile. I could feel his eyes on me, feel the weight of every wolf in the brewery watching.

"This isn't over," he called out. "I'll win you back, Erin. Whatever it takes."

I paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking back one last time. "Don't. Just... don't."

But as I climbed the stairs to my apartment, my hand drifted to my belly where that little flutter had been. Marty thought this was about winning me back. He had no idea what was really at stake.

And I intended to keep it that way.