Chapter 18
The pain in my chest,like something primal had buried its claws deep into my ribs and started
to tear. My wolf whimpered inside me, curled so tight I could barely feel her anymore.
I pressed a hand to my heart, trying to hold. myself together, but the tears just kept falling. Everything burned–my eyes, my throat, my soul. The ache was deeper than anything silver could carve into flesh.
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And then–my phone rang, slicing through the
silence.
I blinked through the blur. It was the airline.
“Ms. Jillian,Your one–way ticket to Ashenclaw Pack has been issued. Would you like us to select a seat for you?”
“By the window,” I whispered. “Thank you.”
Ashenclaw. The only pack that had ever truly welcomed me as one of their own. It was far away, quiet, mostly rogue bloodlines and lone wolves. That sounded perfect now.
I wiped my face quickly, trying to steady my breath, when the door creaked open.
Floyd.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked casually.
“A friend,” I said, setting the phone down. My voice was so hollow I barely recognized it.
He didn’t press. He was already onto the next
thing.
“About the incident…” His tone was flat, almost
Chapter 18
5 Points
out in front of our own pups. But when she does it, it’s a harmless misunderstanding.
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to scream until the walls cracked and the pack felt it through the bond. But all that came out was a quiet, strangled, “Mm.”
Floyd looked at me like I was malfunctioning.
He waited. Expected me to throw a fit. Cry.
Plead like before.
But I just sat there, still as stone.
“So,” he went on, “next week the pups are going to summer camp. Monica and I will accompany.
I them. You can return to the villa on your own.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
His frown deepened. Suspicion flickered in
his eyes, but he said nothing else. His phone. buzzed, rescuing him.
“Work,” he muttered. “I’ll be going.”
And just like that, he left.
The door clicked shut, and I exhaled. My hands.
Chapter 18.
G Points
unclenched, finally. My palms were marked with deep, bloody crescents from my own claws. My wolf didn’t even growl anymore. She was just… quiet.
Over the next few days, Monica sent me video
after video of the summer camp.
Photos of Floyd smiling with her.
Clips of Leon and Yolanda clinging to her, calling her “Mom.”
In one video, Leon stood proudly in front of a
group of young wolves, announcing, “This is our mom!”
They gasped.
“Your mom is so pretty!”
“Your dad’s so strong–no wonder you’re both alphas–in–training!”
Someone asked, “Who picks you up from
school?”
Leon hesitated. Then Yolanda giggled.
“Oh that’s just our nanny.”
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I dropped the glass I was holding. It shattered against the kitchen tile, pieces skittering
everywhere.
I stared at it. The shards. My reflection-
fractured.
So that’s all I’d been.
A glorified nanny. A Luna with no mate, no pack, no bond.
But it was fine.
They didn’t need me anymore.
And soon–they wouldn’t have me.
A week later, the butler returned with the children. The moment they entered the house, their voices filled every room.
“Mom!” Yolanda shrieked. “Did you know Monica Auntie hurt her foot at the parents‘
race? Dad was so worried!”
Leon cut in. “He booked the whole hospital just for her. Skipped a board meeting to be by her
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I was in the kitchen, securing the oven mitts. Quiet. Focused.
Yolanda huffed. “Are you even listening?! Dad treats Monica Auntie way better than you ever
Ding.
The cake timer saved me. I opened the oven. The cake was a little burnt at the edges.
Without a word, I turned and dumped it straight into the trash.
Both pups gasped.
“What?! Why’d you throw it out?!” Yolanda
screeched.
“It’s burnt,” I said, calmly. “You can’t eat that.”
“You’re lying!” Leon kicked the trash can. “You’re doing it on purpose! Because you’re still mad about camp! You’re the worst!”
“We don’t even have a mom like you!” Yolanda
spat.
The words sliced deeper than any claws could
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I slowly removed the oven mitts, staring at
I
them like I didn’t know what they were.
Then I looked at my children–no. At the pups I brought into this world.
Strangers.
“Well then,” I whispered, voice barely above the hum of the fridge, “I don’t have pups. like you
either.”
Their eyes widened.
“From now on,” I said, stepping away, “go find.
Monica.”
I turned and walked toward the stairs.
Behind me, they screamed, “We hate you! We’ll hate you forever!”
I paused–just a second–but I didn’t turn
around.
And that’s when it happened.
A sharp shove from behind.
