Chapter 2

Chapter 2

BIANCA POV

I drove home in silence, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. The house was dark when I arrived, exactly as I'd left it—the forgotten cake still sitting on the counter, the candles I'd bought still in their package, the birthday I'd hoped might finally matter nothing but another day that proved how little I did.

Just then, a notification popped up on my phone: Mia had posted something new. My thumb scrolled mechanically through Mia's F******k album, titled "Our Journey - 47/100."

Forty-seven activities down, fifty-three to go. The new post is a photo. There they were: Matthew, Theo, and Mia. His hand rested on Mia's shoulder, protective and tender. And, Theo sat on her lap, his arms wrapped around her neck. The caption read: "My amazing birthday!"

I sat in the empty house, staring at a photo on my phone until my eyes burned. I could not believe this, that my husband and son would hurt me like this, showing no regard for my feelings.

Where did the kind, attentive husband of mine go? And my sweetest son?

This wasn't what my family was like before Matthew’s first love came back. Matthew and Theo was once treating me like I was invincible. Especially Matthew, back then he actually cared about me, took care of me even when he told me from the onset that what we had was a marriage of convenience and he doesn't love me, he still stood up for me, when the pack questioned my integrity as a rogue wolf.

Those moments had kept me going. Until now.

Perhaps the Moon goddess had corrected all the mistakes. Matthew and I were never meant to be on the same path. Our meeting had been nothing but a mistake...

The first time I'd met Matthew, I'd been running through his territory, half-dead from wounds inflicted by the pack that had cast me out. I'd been born a rogue, my mother having been expelled from her pack before my birth. We'd survived on the fringes, never belonging anywhere, always moving. When she'd died, I'd been seventeen and alone, using the healing skills she'd taught me to trade for food and shelter wherever I could.

That night, I'd stumbled upon Matthew lying in a ravine, poisoned by silver and bleeding from multiple wounds. His pack had left him for dead after an ambush, unable to find him in the darkness. I should have kept walking. A rogue helping an Alpha was dangerous—it created a debt, a connection, and connections could be used against you.

But I'd never been able to walk past someone in pain.

I'd spent three days nursing him back to health in a cave, using every technique my mother had taught me. When he'd finally opened his eyes, strong enough to speak, he'd looked at me with gratitude and something else—something that had made my foolish heart hope.

"You saved my life," he'd said, his voice rough. "I owe you."

I'd left before he could fully recover, before he could feel obligated to do more than heal. I'd learned early that debts owed to rogues were rarely paid with kindness.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Six months later, I'd been working at a healing house in a neutral territory when Matthew had stumbled in, drugged with a powerful aphrodisiac by enemies who'd hoped to compromise him. I'd been the only healer on duty that night, and when he'd grabbed my arm, his eyes unfocused and desperate, I'd seen him truly for the first time.

He'd also seen me—or rather, he'd seen what he wanted to see.

"Mia," he'd breathed, his hands cupping my face. "Mia, is it really you?"

I should have corrected him. Should have pushed him away and let the drug run its course, painful but harmless in the long run. But he'd looked at me with such naked longing, such desperate need, and I'd been so tired of being invisible, of being unwanted.

So I'd let him believe I was someone else. Just for one night. One single night of being looked at like I mattered, like I was precious, like I was loved.

The next morning, when the drug had worn off and he'd realized his mistake, the horror in his eyes had cut deeper than any blade. But there had been honor too, that rigid Alpha honor that wouldn't let him simply walk away from what he'd done.

"I took your innocence," he'd said, his voice flat. "I'll take responsibility."

Not "I care for you." Not "I want to make this right because you matter to me." Just... responsibility. An obligation. A burden he'd bear because his code demanded it.

When I'd discovered I was pregnant two months later, that burden had become permanent.

We'd married in a small ceremony with no joy and few witnesses. His pack had been furious—an Alpha marrying a rogue was scandal enough, but one he'd been forced to marry out of duty was even worse. I'd endured their cold stares and whispered insults, had smiled through the thinly veiled hostility, because at least I had a home. At least my child would have a pack, a place to belong.

And Matthew had held my hand tightly that day.

"She's my wife," he'd said, his voice steel. "She's your Luna. And she's earned her place here a hundred times over. Anyone who disagrees can challenge me directly."

After that, no one had openly questioned my fitness as Luna. I'd carried that moment like a talisman, proof that maybe he was starting to see me as more than just an obligation.

But Mia's return had shattered even those small illusions.

At nine-thirty, headlights finally swept across the living room windows.

I heard voices in the driveway—three, not two. My stomach dropped as the door opened and Theo tumbled in, followed by Matthew and Mia.

Mia. In my house. At nine-thirty at night.