Chapter 3
999 Words
Melanie's POV
A few hours later, I was back at the Alpha house in LA.
This place used to be "home," but I only grabbed a few changes of clothes, some toiletries, and a handful of books.
I pulled a bank card out of my wallet and left it on the table. Archer had been transferring money into an account for Trista and me every month, but for the past year, Trista had been living with him in London. She didn't need it, and I hadn't touched a dime of it.
I did, however, transfer five million dollars out of my personal account.
That money was mine, and I wasn't about to play nice anymore.
Once I finished packing, I took one last look at the bedroom.
The sheets were perfectly tucked, the curtains were spotless, and even the air smelled sterile.
This room had never actually belonged to me.
I flipped the light, shut the door, and walked out with my suitcase.
I left pack territory and headed to an apartment I'd bought a few years back.
It was downtown, right near Archer's company, Atkinson Group. I'd bought it for the commute, but it had been sitting empty for years.
When I opened the door, the air was a little stale, but the place was clean.
I aired it out, took a shower, and started putting my things away in the closet and on the shelves.
By the time I was done, it was late in LA.
I crashed onto the bed, feeling completely drained.
As soon as I closed my eyes, a dull ache throbbed in my scent gland—the aftershocks of the broken mating bond were still pulling at me.
"It's gonna hurt for a while," Frost murmured in my head.
"I know," I sighed. I was trying to force myself to sleep when the comm-stone on the nightstand vibrated.
A name flickered on the stone's surface: Trista.
I stared at it for a couple of seconds before finally pressing my finger to the stone to connect.
There was a beat of silence on the other end, then her voice came through, sounding frustrated. "Mom, why did you leave?"
"I left yesterday at noon," I said, looking out at the pitch-black night. "It's morning in London. Did you just realize I was gone?"
She hesitated, her voice turning a little defensive.
"You... you didn't even message me today."
I let out a short, dry laugh.
For the last two years, while she was at school in London, I'd set two specific reminders on my comm-stone: one for her breakfast and one for her bedtime.
I crossed time zones and oceans just to hear her say, "Mom, I miss you."
But over time, her tone went from excited to distracted, and finally to annoyed.
Most of the time, I was the only one holding that connection together.
"It's the middle of the night here," I said flatly. "We can talk later."
I didn't give her an opening to keep going. I pulled my finger back and cut the connection myself.
The next day, I went to the Atkinson Group like nothing was wrong.
I walked straight intoHerbert's office and dropped my resignation on his desk.
He looked shocked. "You're quitting?"
Herbert was a top executive and the pack's beta.
He knew exactly who I was.
"Yeah," I said, my voice steady.
He stared at me for a few seconds, trying to read me, before slipping back into his professional mask. "...I'll take it. I'll get someone to take over your projects as soon as possible."
"Good." I turned around, went back to my desk, and started getting my files ready for the handoff.
Around lunch, a coworker tapped me on the shoulder. "Not calling your daughter today? You usually call every day."
I shut my folder and gave her a small smile. "No, not today."
From the second I landed in LA, I stopped reaching out to Trista or Archer.
And big surprise—they didn't reach out to me either, except for that one entitled phone call from Trista last night.
This time, I was done chasing people.
That night, just as I was getting ready for bed, the comm-stone on my wrist glowed a pale blue.
It was Trista's signature—but it only pulsed for three seconds before going quiet.
I stared at it for a long time before finally giving in and sending a trace of my pheromones into the stone to pick up.
All I heard was the sound of wind through the trees. No one answered.
Frost paced restlessly in my mind. "Call Shannon. She knows what Trista is up to."
Shannon picked up almost immediately.
"What was Trista doing just now?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even. "She tried to link me, but didn't pick up."
Shannon went quiet for a second, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper. "Trista did say she wanted to link you. But then Camille messaged her. Camille's taking her to the Moonlight Forest tomorrow to gather glow-grass and teach her some basic shifting. Trista... she said she was afraid you'd stop her from going if you knew."
My fingers tightened around the stone so hard the engravings dug into my palm.
Frost let out a low whimper, her pheromones spiking with bitterness. "Does it still hurt?"
"Of course it hurts," I thought, closing my eyes against the dull ache in my chest. "But this is the last time. I'm done forgetting."
They had a new, "better" Luna now. They had someone to take her to the forest and teach her how to shift.
If I tried to step in, I'd just be the villain ruining her fun.
I lay down and closed my eyes.
The pain was still there, but it wasn't sharp anymore. It was just a hollow, heavy thud.
"From now on," I told Frost, "we're done wasting ourselves on people who don't want us. We're living for ourselves."
- Writer
