Chapter 2
1115 Kelimeler
Melanie's POV
I made it back to the bedroom on legs that felt like jelly. I just collapsed by the edge of the bed, sliding down until I hit the floor.
My chest felt like someone was taking a dull knife to it, carving me out piece by piece. I couldn't even make a sound; only Frost was there, whimpering in the back of my mind.
"Why do they always pick her?" she asked.
I didn't have an answer.
Since the day we mated, I did everything by the book. I learned the pack laws, handled the business, acted exactly the way a Luna was supposed to act.
And all it got me was, "This isn't the place for you."
I heard voices, low and hushed, coming from the hallway.
"You were a little harsh to Luna Melanie just now," Shannon, one of the omegas, whispered. "She's your mom, Trista. Saying things like that is gonna hurt her feelings."
Then came Trista's voice, clear as day. "But I like Camille better."
My ears started ringing. I stood up, walked to the door, and yanked it open.
Shannon jumped, looking like she'd seen a ghost, and quickly pulled Trista toward her. "I was just gonna take Trista out to play. You should get some rest, Luna Melanie."
Trista practically hid behind her.
The hallway went dead quiet, and I just stood there, my fingers turning cold.
So, that was it. That was what she really thought.
After a beat, I took the gifts I'd bought for them and shoved them back into my suitcase. I zipped it shut.
Right then, the mating bond hummed. That familiar scent started creeping into my senses—Archer.
His voice echoed in my head through the mind-link, "Let's have lunch together tomorrow."
Frost perked up, her tail giving a little wag in my mind. "Maybe he wants to explain."
I crushed that tiny spark of hope before it could catch fire. I made my response as cold as a stone, "Fine. Give me the place. I'll be there."
This was it. My final "maybe."
The next day, I showed up at the restaurant Archer had picked.
I sat by the window, ordered a water, and set my communication crystal on the table. I could feel its faint thrumming against my palm.
Twelve o'clock. He wasn't there.
Twelve-thirty. The waiter asked if I wanted to order. I told him I was still waiting.
One o'clock. Two o'clock. The seat across from me stayed empty. The only sounds were the clinking of other people's silverware and their quiet chatter.
It was almost two-thirty when a sharp jolt hit my mind—his mind-link.
Archer's voice surfaced just long enough to drop few words, "Change of plans. Lunch is off."
The crystal on the table flickered one last time, like a dying ember, and then went dark.
I sat there for a long time. I wanted to reach back through that link and ask him, "Are you seriously that busy?"
But as soon as my consciousness touched the connection, I hit a wall. He'd shut the channel. He didn't want to hear from me.
I looked down, pulled my energy back into myself, and whispered an "I'm sorry" to the waiter. Then I walked out.
By the time I reached the edge of the Razor Pack territory, the sky had turned grey and a cold drizzle started coming down.
I pulled my coat tight as I passed the packhouse. The front door was cracked open just a tiny bit.
That's when I smelled it—a she-wolf scent that didn't belong to the pack, but it was wrapped up in a scent that made my glands ache. Archer.
The mating bond felt like it was being yanked in the opposite direction, making it hard to breathe.
Rain ran down the eaves, blurring the windows, but I could see them through the gap.
Archer was sitting at the long dining table. Camille was right there next to him, their shoulders practically touching. He was cutting a piece of steak and holding the fork up to her mouth. She leaned in and took it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He was looking at her with a look so soft it could've melted the lights.
Trista was curled up in Camille's lap, her little arms around Camille's neck, rubbing her face against her shoulder and smiling with total trust.
Camille leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was a picture of a perfect, happy family.
In that second, our mating bond felt like it was being shredded.
It was like a wire connecting our souls was being ground down inch by inch—tightening until it snapped.
The pain was so sharp I had to grab a stone pillar to keep from falling. My knuckles went white. I didn't even have the strength to push that door open. My heart just bottomed out.
Frost let out a pained howl, but she was thinking clearer than me. "Enough, Melanie. Get out of here. Now."
She reached up and mentally bit through the last of those pathetic hopes still clinging to us. She was the one who made me take a step back.
I took a deep breath and pulled my eyes away from that door, like I was tearing myself out of a sticky spiderweb.
I turned around and started walking into the heart of the estate.
The house was dead quiet when I got back.
I pushed open the door to the study. The light hit the family tree on the wall and my Luna shawl I'd barely ever worn.
I went over, folded the shawl, and tucked it into a cabinet. Then I sat down and pulled out a piece of parchment.
"You sure about this?" Frost asked.
"Positive."
I picked up the pen and wrote the header: Mating Bond Severance Petition.
My handwriting was steadier than I expected.
All these years, I told myself that if I just worked hard enough, he'd eventually see me.
But he never even bothered to look.
Admitting that made me feel more grounded than I'd ever felt.
I signed my name, folded the paper, and put it in an envelope.
I ran into Shannon on my way out of the study.
"Shannon," I said, handing her the letter. "Give this to Archer when he gets back."
I went to the bedroom, pulled out my suitcase, and packed the few things I actually owned.
When the latches clicked shut, Frost let out a long, heavy breath.
I dragged the suitcase downstairs and looked at the driver. "Take me to the airport."
- Yazar
