Chapter 2: Birthday party

Elara’s POV:

Three goddamn hours.

Three hours of walking in the freezing, sodden dark, feeling every single bump, bruise, and the dull, nasty ache in my ribs. 

My shoes were ruined, my coat was heavy with water, and I smelled like a wet dog rolled in a dumpster. I didn't just feel weak; I felt completely degraded.

When I finally reached the Pack perimeter, the guards didn't even pretend to hide their contempt.

"Well, look who the tide dragged in," one of them sneered, leaning against the checkpoint gate.

"Rough night, Luna?" the other chuckled, using my title like a rusty knife.

I just stared, too tired to summon up a comeback. My silence, of course, was taken as confirmation of my pathetic state.

"Should have shifted, Elara," the first one said, his voice dropping just loud enough to cut through the rain. "A real Mate would've had her wolf to protect her from a little puddle."

I could feel the hatred and pity dripping off them. They were right. 

If I had a wolf, I wouldn't have been stranded. If I had a wolf, I wouldn't be the joke. If I had a wolf, I wouldn't be standing here, shivering, while they laughed.

But I was exhausted. All I wanted was to go home, just a single sip of hot coffee would’ve been enough to help me breathe again. So I kept quiet and walked with my head down.

I didn’t expect that when I finally looked up, the entire village would be glowing, strings of lights everywhere, shining so warmly.

The main road to Pack House was usually dimly lit, the wolfs can see clearly even without the lights, but tonight, the whole perimeter was strung with twinkling fairy lights, illuminating the large central lawn. 

It looked like a cheap wedding reception.

"What the hell is all this?" I snapped, finally finding my voice.

The guard shrugged, a smirk stretching his lips. "It's Seraphina's birthday party, Luna. The Alpha threw her a bash. Didn't you get the memo?"

Seraphina's birthday.

My own birthday passed with a quiet dinner and a gift card. But his "ex-Mate" who was missing for five years gets a full-blown Pack celebration. A punch to the gut would have been kinder.

I pushed past them, my anger now a furnace that almost dried my sodden clothes. I walked straight toward the glow, my mind screaming: Don't you dare look pathetic.

The closer I got, the clearer the scene became. The air, thick with the smell of expensive cake and sweet wine, was almost suffocating. 

The Pack was gathered, but they weren't the focus.

The spotlight was on the four of them: Rhys, Jaxon, Seraphina, and her little boy Elias.

They were in the center of the patio, standing around a ridiculous three-tiered cake. Rhys was bent over, his powerful shoulders shaking with genuine, unrestrained laughter, a sound I hadn't heard directed at me since before we were married.

And Seraphina. She was radiant, her face tilted up toward his, playing the delicate princess role to perfection.

But the real knife twist? Jaxon. My son. He was standing right next to Seraphina, beaming. He held up a small, lopsided clay figurine, the kind they make in school art class.

"It's for you, Sera," Jaxon said, his voice ringing with pride. "So you never feel sad again."

Sera. He calls her Sera. He never makes me presents, and he calls his mother "Mom," usually followed by a sigh.

The sight of that perfect, happy family unit, the father, the "mother," the two sons, made my blood run cold. They looked so complete. So harmonious. And I was the poison that didn't fit. I was the ghost who held the legal claim, but they had already carved me out of the picture.

I wanted to run, to disappear into the woods again, but my feet were heavy, cemented by pure, corrosive resentment. I had to get inside. I was going to walk through this mockery, go to my empty room, and collapse.

I tried to navigate the edges of the crowd, keeping my head down, a walking shadow. 

But fate, the cosmic bitch, wasn't done with me.

Someone, maybe a clumsy Beta, or just a drunk idiot stumbled backward, his shoulder hitting me squarely.

I lost my balance. My bruised ribs screamed as I went down, right into the center of the patio, my muddy body skidding to a painful stop right at Rhys's expensive leather boots.

The laughter died. Silence. Hundreds of eyes bored into me.

I looked up, my eyes locking on Rhys's. I searched desperately for a flicker of concern, a tiny spark of the Mate bond, anything.

There was nothing. His face was a mask of cold fury and pure disgust. He didn't see his wife; he saw an embarrassment, a filthy animal who had dared to crash his party. His eyes said it all: Get up, you pathetic dog. You're ruining my night.

The ultimate betrayal came from my son. Jaxon didn't move. He didn't even flinch. He just tightened his grip on Seraphina's hand and hid slightly behind her perfect skirt, ashamed of the muddy spectacle that was his mother.

Seraphina, the actress, finally broke the silence. She bent down, a look of wide-eyed, fake concern painted on her face. "Oh, Elara, darling! Are you okay? Let me help you up, "

Before her slender fingers could touch my muddy coat, Rhys moved. He didn't reach for me because he cared.

He grabbed my arm, a brutal grip that squeezed my painful bruises, and yanked me to my feet. 

Violently.

"Be careful," he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl meant only for her. "She's covered in road dirt. Don't ruin your dress, Sera."

He held me just long enough to ensure Seraphina was safe from my contamination, then he dropped me like a used rag.

The pain was nothing compared to the shock. 

I was filth. I was a disease. 

I was less important than a scrap of fabric on his real Mate's back.

I stumbled away, past the silent, judging faces. 

I couldn't look at Rhys. I couldn't look at Jaxon. 

I walked through the main doors, feeling every pair of eyes boring into my back, and didn't stop until I reached my empty room.

I kicked the door shut, ignoring the throb in my foot, and let my ruined body slide down the wood, collapsing into a heap on the floor.