Chapter Three

The clock ticked louder than usual in the silence of the packhouse. I sat on the edge of the couch, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders even though it wasn’t cold. My tea had gone cold on the table beside me, untouched for the past hour. I had spent most of the evening staring at the door, waiting for Sebastian to walk through it.

He was late. Again.

He’d told me earlier that he had another pack meeting with the elders—long discussions, strategy planning, all the things an Alpha heir was supposed to be drowning in. I wanted to believe him. I really did. But after Tia’s words echoing in my head all afternoon—“Rumors don’t start without fire, Rhianna”—it was impossible not to doubt.

The lock finally clicked.

I straightened quickly, pulling the blanket tighter, my heart leaping in my chest as Sebastian stepped inside. His tall frame filled the doorway, his presence commanding as always, blond hair slightly disheveled, shirt clinging to his broad chest. He looked like every girl’s dream of an Alpha. He had once been mine, too.

But the moment he leaned down to kiss my cheek, my chest tightened.

There. A faint trace.

Perfume. Not mine. Sweet, floral, clinging stubbornly to his shirt like a whispered secret.

I forced a smile, pretending not to notice. My mate bond pulsed weakly, like a flickering flame that was struggling to stay alive.

“You’re late,” I said softly, careful to keep my voice light.

He shrugged, avoiding my eyes as he loosened his tie and moved past me. “Meetings went on longer than expected. You know how the elders are.”

I wanted to believe him. But he didn’t look tired from strategy talks. He looked distracted, as though his mind had been elsewhere all evening.

“Did you eat?” I asked.

“Not hungry.” His answer was short, clipped, the way it had been too often lately. He disappeared into the bedroom, leaving me sitting there with my cold tea and a hollow ache in my chest.

I pressed my hands into the blanket, grounding myself. Don’t think. Don’t spiral. Don’t listen to the whispers in your head.

But when he returned, already pulling off his shirt, I caught myself staring. My gaze fixed on his shoulder—scratched. Faint lines like nails had dug into his skin. My breath caught, but I swallowed it down before it became sound.

I wanted to ask. Goddess, I wanted to demand answers. But instead, I forced myself to turn away, pretending not to see. If I didn’t catch him in the act, it wasn’t true. That’s what I told Tia earlier, wasn’t it?

My heart squeezed as I listened to him move around the room, his presence heavy but distant.

Later, after he fell into bed and drifted almost instantly into sleep, I lay awake beside him. His arm wasn’t around me like it used to be. His breathing was steady, calm, unbothered, while mine trembled as I stared at the ceiling.

Sleep didn’t come. Only memories.

Hardin’s face flashed through my mind unbidden. The older brother, the one Sebastian never spoke about, the one the pack pretended didn’t exist. But I remembered him. How could I not?

We’d all grown up together, once.

I remembered the night of my sixteenth birthday vividly. The full moon had hung fat and glowing above the forest, silvering the treetops. I’d wandered too close to the training grounds, watching the older wolves spar. That’s when Hardin had found me.

He was nineteen then, already dangerous in ways Sebastian never was. His dark hair damp with sweat, eyes blazing amber under the moonlight. He’d cornered me against a tree, one hand braced beside my head, his chest rising and falling as he studied me like I was prey.

“You’ll always be mine, Little Wolf,” he’d whispered, his voice low and rough. “No bond will ever change that.”

I’d been too young to understand the weight of those words. Too young to realize what kind of obsession burned behind his gaze. But now, years later, the memory replayed with sharp clarity, as though my body still remembered the way the bark had pressed into my back, the way his breath had ghosted against my skin.

Tia had been right. He’d liked me. More than liked me. He’d been consumed.

And now he was coming back.

My heart thudded painfully, torn between dread and something darker I didn’t want to name. If he was truly returning, then all the walls I’d built to forget him would come crashing down.

Beside me, Sebastian stirred slightly in his sleep, turning onto his side, his back facing me.

The distance between us felt like a chasm.

I closed my eyes, but all I could see was Hardin’s smile—the dangerous one he’d given me all those years ago, like a promise sealed in blood.

By the time dawn touched the curtains, I still hadn’t slept.

And for the first time in years, I wasn’t sure if my fear was more of losing Sebastian… or of Hardin finally coming back for me.

I must have dozed off, because the sharp ring of the doorbell jolted me awake. My eyes burned, gritty from the night I’d spent staring at the ceiling.

For a moment I thought I imagined it, but the bell rang again.

Sebastian’s shower was still running upstairs. The sound of water hitting tile carried faintly through the house.

Dragging myself up, I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders and shuffled to the door. My chest felt heavy, like the weight of my thoughts had settled there and refused to move.

When I opened the door, I froze.

Brittany stood on the porch.

Of course she did—perfect hair, flawless makeup, lips painted red. She looked like she’d stepped out of one of those glossy magazines she loved to wave around at pack gatherings. Even at this hour, she was radiant, glowing in that smug way only she could pull off.

“Where’s Sebastian?” she asked, her tone bored, like she was asking after a waiter.

I blinked, tightening my grip on the doorframe. “He’s upstairs.”

Her eyes flicked past me, quick and sharp, before settling back on me. I knew that look—it was the one women used when they wanted to remind you you’d already lost.

“You know he doesn’t belong to you, right?” Her smile was small, cruel, but her voice was sickly sweet. “Sebastian was always meant to be mine. Everyone sees it. You’re just… holding his place.”

Her words landed like blows, each one pressing deeper into the cracks already in me.

The sound of footsteps saved me from answering.

Sebastian.

He came down the stairs, towel still hanging around his neck, water dripping from his hair. He froze when he saw her. Just for a second. Then he recovered with that practiced smile that used to make my heart stutter.

“Brittany,” he said easily, like she hadn’t just declared him hers in our doorway. “What are you doing here?”

She tilted her head, her smile curving. “The council asked for you last night. Thought I’d come remind you.”

Council. Right.

My stomach turned, but Sebastian didn’t even blink. “I was just about to leave.” He reached past me for his keys, the brush of his arm a cold reminder of what we once were. “Thanks for stopping by.”

And that was it.

The two of them exchanged a look I couldn’t decipher, then she turned and left, her heels clicking against the porch steps like nails driving into my skull.

Sebastian shut the door without meeting my eyes. “I’ll be back later.”

The moment the door closed, my chest caved in.

I hadn’t realized I’d been holding back tears until they came rushing all at once. Hot, desperate, uncontrollable. I pressed my hand to my mouth to muffle the sobs, but they tore out of me anyway.

It hurt—so much more than I thought it would.

The ache in my chest flared, sharp and stabbing, until I couldn’t breathe. My breaths came shallow, uneven, my heart thudding wildly like it was trying to escape. Panic clawed up my throat.

I stumbled upstairs, gripping the railing to steady myself. My hands shook so badly I could barely twist the cap off the small white bottle on my nightstand.

The pills rattled, loud in the quiet room.

I swallowed one dry, clutching the blanket as I sank onto the bed. My body trembled as I tried to breathe, each inhale jagged, each exhale broken by sobs.

For a long time, I just sat there, pressing my palm against my chest like I could hold it together by force.

But all I felt was emptiness.