I held the car door open for Lexi, and as she settled into the passenger seat, a sense of giddy euphoria overcame me. I couldn't help but laugh softly to myself as I closed the door and made my way around the car. I knew I probably wouldn't "get the girl"—her connection with Clay was palpable, even to my dulled senses. But the sheer relief of her not looking at me like some evil being was enough to lighten my steps. "So, do you want to stop for some coffee? There's a drive-through on the way," I said as I jumped into the driver's seat. I trailed off when I noticed her eyes were glued to the center console. I followed her gaze, and my heart sank. "Shit," I muttered under my breath, hastily brushing the white powder off. I watched as it disappeared into nothing on the floorboards. But as I glanced up, my eyes met hers, and I saw them flicker to the glove compartment. It was still open, displaying the small plastic bag that left no room for the imagination. There was no brushing that

Clay's jaw clenched as he muttered, "Give me a minute to wrap things up here, and we'll go home." I followed him out and watched him, a storm of emotions brewing behind his eyes, as he began to organize some paperwork on his desk. His hands worked swiftly, each movement measured and controlled. It was like he was channeling his turbulent emotions into each minor decision in front of him. We walked out to his car in heavy silence. As we drove, Clay's grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled, starkly contrasting with the relaxed demeanor he usually had behind the wheel. "Can we stop by my dorm? I need to grab a few things," I asked softly, my voice tinged with caution. "Sure," he nodded, making a detour toward the university campus. I packed a bag quickly, scribbling a note to Moro about an impromptu trip with Clay for the next week or so. I deliberately left out any mention of Luke. Clay waited patiently in the car, and when I returned, we resumed our journey in silence. Aft

I woke up to the sound of grunts, clinking weights, and the muffled impact of feet against the floor. For a second, I was disoriented. Then I remembered: Luke was here, and they'd planned to work out in the living room to avoid disturbing the neighbors. Curiosity got the best of me, and I padded to the doorway, still in my nightgown. The sight that met my eyes was nothing short of primal. Clay's muscles flexed with beads of sweat glistening on his forehead as he pushed through the burn. Every lift was precise and controlled, and his eyes were ablaze with an almost electrifying ferocity. He was in a deep lunge, his muscles rippling through his t-shirt as he lowered himself, steadying a dumbbell in each hand. Luke was beside him, following suit, his form slightly shaky but determined. Their synchronization was almost poetic—a dance of strength and willpower. Sweat made their shirts cling to their torsos, highlighting every muscle in vivid detail. The sight was electrifying, and my

I'll admit, I had forgotten how invigorating a good workout could feel. It was like every fiber of my body was alight with renewed energy. But watching Clay move, I couldn't help but wonder: how the hell did he manage to keep up this kind of intensity without the aid of substances anymore? And then came breakfast. The moment he set that plate of food in front of me, the first wave of nausea hit. The aroma of the eggs and bacon, which would generally be appealing, twisted my insides like a wet rag. I couldn't help but think, did he do this on purpose? Was this some convoluted coercion to remind me of my weakened state? Every bite was a struggle. My body begged me to stop, but my mind screamed louder, urging me to hold it together, to not give Clay the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. Anger bubbled within me with each mouthful, stewing and festering as if fed by the food I was forcing down. Then we transitioned to video games, but it was far from the distraction I needed. Each mist

I watched her hand retreat, her fingers leaving a lingering warmth in my fur. My thoughts whirled as I processed the revelation. Lexi could hear me. Not just Clay, but me. If she had only been connected with Clay, they might have kept it a secret, stashed away in a vault of unspeakable truths. But now, she also heard my thoughts, opening up a channel I hadn't considered possible. I wasn't her fated mate. I'd come to terms with that a while ago, accepting it reluctantly as an inflexible fact. But there was an indisputable energy between us, something that transcended reason. Now, in my wolf form, that something became crystal clear. A link existed, intangible yet impossible to ignore. She'd petted me and told me Clay was excited about our newfound ability to communicate during our runs. The concept baffled me. The last thing I wanted was to make Lexi the middleman in any discourse between Clay and me. Even in our prime, when we would've considered ourselves best friends, our interact