Four

Camelia Pov

The drive to Becca's home had left me drained.

Resting my head against the window, I watched the pack territory slide past. Peter's face kept returning, the way it looked when he struck me. Then Anya, taking his hand.

Maybe Peter had never loved me. Maybe he had only loved the idea of a perfect Luna beside him.

Becca's house was small but comfortable. She carried one suitcase inside and pointed me toward the wall.

"Put yours there. We'll sort it out later."

I let go of the handle, then stood still.

The house felt safe, but I didn't know how to relax. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the closed door of my old home.

"You need to sit down," Becca said.

"I'm fine."

"You look like you're going to fall over."

"I said I'm fine."

Becca lifted an eyebrow but let it go. "Then stop thinking about Peter and Anya."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"By giving your brain something else to do. Check your phone. Read something. Anything."

I reached into my bag. Before I could open a single message, Becca spoke again.

"Actually, you should check the news."

"Why?"

"Just do it, Cam."

Something in her tone made my stomach twist.

I opened my browser and searched Peter's name.

A headline filled the screen.

The article loaded, and I read every line as if I could find a reason to doubt it. The words were neat and formal, full of phrases about family approval and a private ceremony. There was no mention of the woman Peter had promised to bond with. There was no explanation for the sudden change.

The article made the betrayal look simple, almost respectable. My name had vanished from the future they had announced to the pack, replaced by Anya's as if I had never been part of it.

**Peter Henderson to Marry Anya Stewart in a Private Ceremony.**

My breath stopped.

I read it again. Then I scrolled through the short article. It said the engagement had been arranged earlier and that the ceremony would take place soon.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"He was already going to marry her," I said.

Becca moved closer. "Cam..."

"He'd already chosen her."

The truth hit harder than the slap.

All day, I had believed one mistake had ruined my relationship. But Peter had made his choice long before. The night at the bar had only given him a reason to abandon me without looking guilty.

Memories rearranged themselves. The way he went quiet when Anya entered a room. The way his eyes sometimes followed my sister. The moments I had dismissed because I trusted them both.

"All this time, I thought he loved me."

Becca wrapped an arm around me. I tried to hold myself together, but the tears came anyway.

My phone buzzed.

Anya.

A message opened on the screen, and an image loaded beneath it.

My wedding invitation.

The design was the same. The date was the same. The wording was the same.

Only the bride's name had changed.

Anya Stewart.

Beneath it, she had written: *Don't cry too much after seeing this, dear sister.*

My control snapped. The phone flew across the room, hit the wall, and crashed to the floor.

"Camelia!" Becca hurried to me.

"She took everything!" I cried. "My home, my fiancé, my future! And she's laughing at me!"

Becca caught me by the shoulders. "Look at me. They don't deserve your tears."

After I threw it, Becca picked up the broken phone, checked that the screen had gone dark, and set it on the table.

She didn't tell me to forgive anyone. She didn't pretend the hurt would pass overnight. Instead, she asked what I needed first.

A place to stay. Work. Money of my own.

The list sounded plain, but it gave the day a shape. I couldn't undo what Peter and Anya had done. I could, at least, stop waiting for them to decide what happened to me next.

"How can I stop crying? She's my sister!"

"She's the person who hurt you. You don't have to keep protecting her just because you share blood."

I shook my head and covered my face. I didn't know what to do. I had no home, no money, and no job. Peter had provided for me, and I had believed that was what our future would look like.

Now I had to start from nothing.

"I can't stay here forever," I said. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You aren't a burden." Becca's voice was firm. "My roommate is away for a week. You can stay until she comes back. We'll work out what happens after that."

I looked at her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Stop asking me that."

A weak laugh slipped from me. Becca squeezed my hand.

"And there's something else. The place where I work needs an office assistant."

"Where do you work?"

"Mooncrest Cooperative Bank. It's a werewolf-owned bank. We handle pack accounts, territory funds, and business loans for registered pack members. The office is busy, but the work is steady. I can tell the manager you're interested."

I blinked. "You think they'll hire me?"

"I think you should apply before deciding they won't."

"I haven't worked in a bank before," I said.

"They can train you," Becca replied. "You know how to read, write, organize things, and speak to people. You don't have to know everything on your first day."

The job at Mooncrest Cooperative Bank wouldn't solve everything. I would be an office assistant, not a pack leader or a Luna. I would sort forms, answer calls, and learn the systems that kept the bank running.

But the bank served several packs, and its work mattered to the people who depended on shared accounts and territory funds. It was a real job with real pay.

For too long, I had believed that being Peter's future mate was enough to protect me. Now I wanted something that belonged to me, even if it began with a desk and a stack of paperwork.

My eyes drifted to the empty space where my phone had landed.

Years of my life had gone into preparing for a ceremony, not a career. The idea of walking into an office and asking to be hired scared me, but it was a fear I could face. No one could take a job away from me just because they wanted my life for themselves.

For the first time all day, I had something practical to think about.

A job meant money. Money meant I could find a place of my own. I wouldn't have to depend on Peter or anyone connected to him.

"All right," I said. "I'll apply."

"Good. We'll get your application ready tomorrow."

I looked toward the broken phone. Anya's message would still be there if I picked it up. Nothing would change. My sister had taken the life I thought I would have.

But maybe I could build another one.

I wiped my cheeks and took a slow breath.

Tomorrow, I would apply for the job. It wasn't a grand plan, but it was a start.

And right now, a start was all I had.