Chapter 3
The bitter, medicinal stench of herbal pregnancy tonics had been suffocating the pack house for exactly thirty days.
I kept my head down, my face a blank mask as I ironed the intricate folds of the gown Selena would wear for her Luna coronation tomorrow night.
"Watch it, Elara," Selena drawled, stroking her barely-there bump. "Caleb paid a fortune for this custom piece. Just like the baby in my belly, he won't tolerate a single mistake."
I casually yanked the iron's plug from the wall and tossed the gown onto the velvet sofa.
"It's done." I couldn't stomach another second of her smug face, so I turned on my heel. Right on cue, the phone in my pocket buzzed. A notification: One-way ticket to New York. Confirmed.
The moment I pushed open the door to my attic room, an aggressively dominant wave of Alpha pheromones slammed into me, pinning my feet to the floorboards.
Caleb was sprawled arrogantly across my twin bed, tapping at my tablet. The screen was glaringly bright, displaying my recent search history: liquidating my parents' estate and my approved overseas visa.
"Transferring assets? A visa?" He slowly lifted his gaze, his golden wolf eyes dripping with mockery. "What is this? You burned your hand, so now you're throwing a runaway tantrum just to get my attention?"
I took a slow, steadying breath, swallowing the bile rising in my throat, and marched over to snatch the tablet from his grip.
"I just need a vacation."
"A vacation?" Caleb surged to his feet. His massive frame instantly cast a dark, suffocating shadow over me.
"You are an Omega I raised with my own two hands. Everything you are belongs to the Blood Moon Pack. You belong to me!" he snarled. "Your only job right now is to stay in this house, serve my Luna, and look after my heir."
His large hands clamped down on my shoulders, squeezing hard enough that I thought my collarbones might snap. "Drop this pathetic little attitude. Omegas everywhere would kill to be under the protection of a high-ranking Alpha. Don't be an ungrateful brat."
The biting pain in my shoulders only crystallized my clarity.
"Caleb, to me, you are my guardian and my Alpha. Nothing more," I said evenly. "Whatever ridiculous crush I had on you is dead. I don't feel a single shred of romantic affection for you anymore."
The air in the room went dead silent.
A few seconds ticked by before Caleb let out a harsh, barking laugh. He lunged past me, yanking open the bottom drawer of my desk, and slammed a wooden keepsake box onto the surface.
"Dead, huh? Then what the hell is this?"
The box tipped over, spilling my pathetic teenage secrets across the wood: a button from one of his old dress shirts, carelessly scribbled sticky notes, and a crumbling, dried rose.
"You say you're over me, yet you haven't thrown out a single piece of this trash."
His lip curled in utter disgust. "Elara, this whole 'playing hard to get' act? It makes you look even cheaper than when you were begging for my attention."
He kicked the dried petals scattering across the floor. "Selena is hormonal and sensitive right now. Throw this garbage out immediately. Face reality, Elara—I will only ever choose her. You will always be second best."
Without a word, I ripped a black trash bag from the roll, knelt down, and started sweeping the items—things I had once treasured more than my own life—straight into the plastic.
Clink.
A small silver bunny pendant tumbled out from between the notes, hitting the hardwood floor with a sharp ring.
It was the first birthday gift Caleb had ever given me after my parents died. In my past life, while I was rotting in the dungeons, it was the only thing I had desperately clung to for sanity.
Caleb’s eyes locked onto the pendant, and he froze. His hand twitched, reaching out instinctively, his fingers trembling just a fraction. He knew exactly what that piece of silver meant to me.
But before his fingers could even brush it, I ruthlessly swept it into the trash bag along with the rest of the dust.
No hesitation. Clean and brutal.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Caleb roared, his voice cracking like a whip.
"Following my Alpha's orders." I stood up, tying the black bag into a tight, unforgiving knot before tossing it into the hall trash can. "Trash belongs in the garbage."
For a split second, I saw his jaw muscle twitch violently.
But an Alpha as arrogant and narcissistic as Caleb would never admit to losing control.
To mask whatever godforsaken drop of regret he was feeling, he doubled down on his dominance. He let out a cold, sharp sneer. "Nice acting. But that desperate, obsessive love you have for me is wired into your blood—you can't change it. If you actually manage to get over me, I, Caleb, will gladly drop to my knees, forfeit my name, and beg for your forgiveness!"
With that, he pulled a sleek black Amex from his jacket pocket and threw it at my feet.
"There's a hundred grand on that. Take the money, go on a month-long trip overseas, and keep your pathetic face out of sight during the coronation tomorrow so you don't ruin Selena's mood."
"And remember the rules," he added, his tone dripping with absolute authority. "No mingling with foreign Alphas. You check in with your location every single day. And in thirty days, you drag yourself back here on time to fulfill your duties as this pack's reserve Omega."
I stared down at the gleaming black card, a rush of dark, satisfying vindication bubbling in my chest.
In my last life, I bled myself dry for this man, only to be discarded like a used rag. Think of this hundred grand as my severance pay. Emotional damages for a wasted youth.
I bent down, scooped up the card, and flashed him the brightest, most genuine smile I had given him in two lifetimes.
"Thank you for the charity, Alpha. I promise you... I’ll go very, very far away."
By sunset the next day, the deafening cheers were loud enough to blow the roof off the pack house.
Every single wolf in the Blood Moon Pack was crowded into the courtyard, howling in celebration as Caleb placed the jeweled Luna crown onto Selena’s head. Everyone was lost in the euphoria. Everyone except the lowly Omega who was supposed to be serving them drinks.
Fireworks exploded outside my window, illuminating the small duffel bag in my hand. It held nothing but a few changes of clothes and my essential documents.
I didn't cast a single backward glance at the room that had been my prison for two lifetimes. I pushed open the door and ghosted down the hidden servant stairs, slipping into the night completely unnoticed.
The night air was biting. The second I slid into the back of the waiting cab, the physical backlash of severing a Pack Bond hit me like a freight train.
A bone-deep, tearing agony ripped through my marrow. This was the price of abandoning your pack. The agony of turning Rogue.
Cold sweat drenched my clothes. I bit down viciously on the burn scar on the back of my hand, refusing to let a single whimper escape my lips.
This physical torture? It was absolutely nothing compared to the hell they’d put me through when they killed me in my past life.
"Where to, miss?" the driver asked, eyeing me in the rearview mirror.
With trembling fingers, I popped the SIM card out of my phone, snapped it in half, and tossed it out the window into the pitch-black night.
"The airport," I gasped out. I wiped the cold sweat from my brow, and for the first time, my eyes burned with an untouchable, fiercely bright fire.
"I need a flight to New York. The absolute soonest one you've got."
