Chapter 3
Kael wasn't at the house.
I stood in the doorway, keys in hand, and smelled the air. His scent was everywhere. Pine and smoke. The smell of my entire adult life. But it was old. Hours old. He hadn't come here after the church.
He was still with her.
The knowledge hit me like a fist. Not a surprise. Not really. But it still hurt. It always hurt.
I walked inside.
The house was quiet. Too quiet. We had bought it together two years ago. Saved for it. Fought over paint colors. I had wanted blue. He had wanted gray. We compromised on gray-blue that looked like neither.
I hated that color now.
I went to the bedroom. Our bedroom. The bed was made. Military corners. Kael had been an army brat before his wolf manifested. Old habits.
I pulled my suitcase from the closet. The small one. The one I used for weekend trips to see my mother before she died.
I started with clothes. Jeans. Sweaters. Underwear. No dresses. I was done with dresses. I threw them in the trash bag I found under the sink. The wedding dress I left on. I would burn it later.
The closet was half-empty when I found the box.
It was on the top shelf. Shoebox. Cardboard. I didn't remember putting it there.
I opened it.
Letters. Dozens of them. My handwriting from five years ago. When Kael and I first started dating. I had written him love notes. Stupid, teenage, desperate love notes. I had left them in his locker, his car, his pockets.
He had kept them.
I sat on the floor. The letters scattered around me. I picked one up.
Kael,
I saw you today at the pack meeting. You were arguing with your father about territory lines. Your jaw was set. Your eyes were gold in the sunlight. I thought: that's the man I'm going to marry.
I know we're young. I know it's fast. But my wolf knows yours. I feel it in my bones. You are mine. I am yours. Forever.
Love, Elara
I was crying.
I didn't feel it start. The tears just came, hot and silent, falling on the paper. Smudging the ink. Five-year-old ink. Five-year-old love.
Where had that girl gone?
She was still here. Buried under ninety-nine rejections. Under the weight of waiting. Under the slow erosion of self that happened when you loved someone who wouldn't choose you.
I put the letter down.
I wouldn't burn them. I wouldn't keep them either. I left the box on the floor. Let Kael find it. Let him see what he had thrown away.
I finished packing. One suitcase. That was all. Five years reduced to forty pounds of fabric and memory.
I dragged it to the living room.
The door opened.
Kael stood there. Black suit wrinkled. Hair messy. Gold eyes wild. He saw me. Saw the suitcase.
"Elara." His voice was rough. "I came as fast as I could. She's okay. She wasn't going to jump. I knew she wasn't. I just had to be sure."
I said nothing.
"Elara, please. Look at me."
I looked at him. Really looked. The face I had loved since I was nineteen. Strong jaw. Soft mouth. Eyes that could warm me or freeze me, depending on his mood.
I felt nothing.
Or almost nothing. A distant ache. Like a bruise healing.
"I packed my things," I said.
"I see that." He stepped closer. Hands out. "You're angry. You should be. I left. I know I left. But I'm here now. We can fix this. We can have the wedding tomorrow. Or next week. Whenever you want."
"No."
He stopped. "What?"
"No wedding. No next week. No fixing."
"Elara—"
"I canceled it, Kael. The wedding. The mating. Us."
His face changed. The guilt shifted to panic. He reached for me. I stepped back.
"You don't mean that."
"I do."
"You love me."
"I did."
The past tense hit him. He flinched. "Elara, listen. I know I messed up. I know I keep messing up. But I love you. You're my fated mate. Biology doesn't lie."
"Biology." I laughed. It sounded wrong. Broken. "You want to talk about biology? I've been rejected five times, Kael. Five. My pheromones are collapsing. I need a mate or I die. And you left me at the altar."
"I came back—"
"Too late." I picked up my suitcase. "I'm going to Silvercrest. My father will arrange a marriage. Someone strong enough to save me."
Kael went pale. "An arranged marriage? You'd rather marry a stranger than—"
"Than wait for you to choose me?" I finished. "Yes. I would."
I walked past him. He grabbed my arm. His fingers dug in. Not hard enough to bruze. Hard enough to remind me he was stronger. An Alpha. I was just a female who had shrunk herself to fit his life.
"Let go," I said.
"Elara, please. I'm begging you."
I looked at his hand. Then at his face. "Ninety-nine times, Kael. I begged you ninety-nine times to stay. To choose me. To love me enough."
His grip loosened.
"I never begged you back," I said. "Not once. Do you know why?"
He shook his head.
"Because I was afraid if I asked, you'd say no." I pulled my arm free. "And I was right. You always said no. You just did it with your feet instead of your words."
I walked out the door.
He didn't follow.
I got in Mira's car. She was waiting, engine running. She looked at my face. At the empty doorway behind me.
"He didn't stop you," she said.
"No."
She put the car in drive. "Where to?"
"Silvercrest."
She paused. "Your father?"
"He has a list. Alphas who need mates. Strong ones."
"Elara, you hate your father."
"I hate dying more."
We drove. The city turned to suburbs. Suburbs turned to highway. I watched the road unfold. Open. Empty. Mine.
My phone buzzed. I ignored it.
Mira drove in silence for an hour. Then: "The Rogue King is on that list."
I turned to look at her.
"Your father's list. I saw it last month when I was treating his beta. Cassian Vane. Name at the bottom. Crossed out, I think. Too dangerous. But he's there."
Cassian Vane.
The name felt heavy in my mouth. I didn't know him. I knew of him. Everyone did. The white wolf. The betrayed king. The monster who ruled the lawless lands.
Stronger than Kael.
That was all that mattered.
"Call him," I said.
"What?"
"Call your contact. Find out how to reach him."
"Elara, you can't be serious. He's not—"
"I'm serious." I looked at her. "I'm dying, Mira. My wolf is broken. I need someone strong enough to fix me. Or I need someone strong enough to let me die trying."
She stared at the road. Her jaw worked. Then she reached for her phone.
"I know someone who knows someone," she said. "Give me a day."
"I don't have a day."
"Give me tonight then."
I leaned back against the seat. Closed my eyes. The wedding dress bunched around me, uncomfortable and ridiculous. I would burn it tomorrow.
Tonight, I would sleep.
Tonight, I would dream of white wolves and mismatched eyes and a man who didn't know I was coming.
Tomorrow, I would marry a stranger.
Or I would die trying.