Chapter 13
+5 Points
You’d think being the Luna of the richest, most powerful Alpha in the Shadowborn Pack would
feel like a dream.
It doesn’t.
Not when that dream is someone else’s fantasy, and you’re just the placeholder until she shows up again.
After my rebirth–yes, rebirth, because the Moon Goddess clearly thought I needed a do–over–I found myself back at thirty. Same
face, same body, same life. A daughter, a
son, and a mate who’s more myth than man: Alpha Floyd Jenkins. Forbes‘ golden wolf. Time magazine’s Most Wanted Mate. Literal royalty has tried to pair off their precious daughters
with him.
And me? I walked into a café and handed a
divorce agreement to the woman he really loved, his fated mate.
“Here,” I said, sliding the folder across the table to Monica Moss. “I want a divorce. Floyd’s yours. The pups, too.”
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She blinked like I’d just spoken in ancient wolf tongue. I don’t blame her. Jillian Cannon, the Luna of Shadowborn for six years, giving
up the title without even baring her fangs? Unthinkable.
But I was done howling at a locked door.
“I’m not fighting for someone who already made his choice,” I told her. “Just get Floyd to
sign. Once the cooling–off period ends, I’m out of this pack house. Out of this life.”
Monica curled her manicured fingers around her mug, eyes narrowing. “What kind of game is this, Jillian?”
“No games.” I looked her dead in the eye. “Just
clarity.”
“You do realize how many she–wolves would kill for your spot, right?”
I smiled. “That’s why I’m giving it up. Let someone else bleed for it.”
Her expression flickered–just for a second. A little crack in that perfect porcelain face.
She picked up the agreement, skimming the
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pages. “Fine. If you’re so generous, I won’t hesitate.”
Then she smirked, full of venom–laced sugar. “But once he’s mine, I’m not giving him back.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, standing. “I won’t want him.”
Because I’ve already lived that lonely life once. I’ve swallowed the silence, the empty glances,
the cold side of the bed.
She moved to another table. I stayed back in the corner booth, watching as she pulled out. her phone, her voice soft and sweet.
“Floyd? I’m at Blue Mountain Café. Can you come pick me up?”
A decade ago, I’d call him and get his Beta half
the time.
It took twenty minutes flat before he showed up–Alpha Floyd in his signature black suit, looking like he’d stepped straight out of a
magazine spread. Every eye turned when he
entered. Even mine.
Then the worst part–my own pups ran right
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5 Points
“Aunt Monica!” Yolanda squealed, launching herself into Monica’s arms. Leon wasn’t far
behind, hugging her.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to shift and rip
something apart.
Instead, I sat there, still and silent, watching my so–called family gravitate around her like she was their true Luna.
Floyd set a cake box down on the table, sliding it to Monica like it was some sacred offering. “Matcha, less sugar. Just how you like it.”
She beamed. “You remembered?”
Six years. I’d been mated to this man for six years, and he never once remembered my favorite flavor. The one time I got hospitalized, craving strawberry cake, he sent an assistant who brought back mango. I’m allergic to
mango.
“What do you want for dinner?” he asked her, his voice so low, so intimate. “French?
Chinese?”
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Before Monica could bat her lashes, she pulled the divorce agreement out of her bag and flipped to the signature page.
“I’ve had my eye on a villa,” she said casually, “but I’m a little short. Could you-?”
He signed without even reading it. “Why make things complicated between us?”
Leon looked up from Monica’s lap. “Daddy, can we get another house nearby? I and Yolanda want to live with Aunt Monica. I don’t want to stay with Mom anymore.”
My wolf whimpered inside me.
Floyd looked torn for half a second, but then he nodded. “Fine. We’ll buy another one.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Monica chirped. “You can just leave me three rooms. That way, I can drop by any time.”
The kids cheered.
“Aunt Monica is the best!” Yolanda shouted. “A thousand times better than Mom!”
I couldn’t breathe. Not from anger. From grief.
Chapter 13
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And then I saw it–the smallest, softest curve of Floyd’s lips. A smile. Not just polite. Tender.
I’d never seen it directed at me. Not once.
I stood, grabbed my bag, and walked out before I shifted right there in the café.
Because I wasn’t going to let my wolf tear apart a man who’d already thrown me away.