Chapter 2

Freya's POV

I made my way through the silent corridors to the guard quarters, my bare feet soundless on the stone floors. The other pack members were either on patrol or asleep, which suited my purposes perfectly. I needed to speak with Beta Morrison privately.

I found him in his office, still awake despite the late hour. He looked up when I knocked, his weathered face creasing into a frown at my expression.

"Freya? What's wrong?"

I stepped inside and closed the door, then took a breath that felt like swallowing glass. "I want to request release from the Silvercrest Pack."

The words hung in the air between us like a death sentence.

Beta Morrison's eyebrows shot toward his hairline. "Release? Freya, you're one of our best assets. The Alpha depends on you. What's brought this on?"

The Alpha depends on me. Right. For killing his enemies and warming his bed until his real Luna arrived.

"Personal reasons," I said carefully. "There are... opportunities I need to explore. Outside the pack."

"Opportunities?" Morrison leaned back in his chair, studying me with sharp eyes that had seen too much to be easily fooled. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the upcoming Luna ceremony, would it?"

My poker face must have slipped for just a second, because his expression softened with something that might have been sympathy.

"Ah, hell." He rubbed his forehead. "I wondered when this would come to a head. How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long have you been in love with our Alpha?"

The question hit me like a physical blow. I opened my mouth to deny it, but Beta Morrison held up a hand.

"Don't bother lying. I've been watching you watch him for years. And I've seen the way you've been moving lately—like a puppy with a fresh wound she's trying to hide."

I closed my eyes, suddenly exhausted. "Does it matter how long?"

"It matters because walking away from your pack, from everything you've known for ten years—that's not a decision you make lightly. Especially not for a man who's too blind to see what's right in front of him."

"He sees plenty," I said bitterly. "He just doesn't want it permanently."

Morrison was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was gentler than I'd ever heard it.

"You know I can't just let you go. You're bound to this pack by blood oath. I'd need the Alpha's permission to release you."

My heart sank. Of course it wouldn't be that simple. Nothing ever was.

"Then I'll ask him," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

"And if he says no?"

I met Beta Morrison's eyes steadily. "Then I'll ask again. And again. Until he gets tired of hearing it and lets me go just to shut me up."

Beta Morrison actually smiled at that. "You know what? I think you might just be stubborn enough to wear him down." His expression grew serious again. "But Freya... are you sure about this? Once you leave, there's no coming back. The Alpha doesn't forgive betrayal, even the soft kind."

Betrayal. As if wanting more than scraps from his table was somehow treacherous.

"I'm sure," I lied.

"Even if it means enduring the cruelest punishment to leave?" Beta Morrison's voice dropped lower. "You might not survive the pain before you make it out of the pack."

Any wolf who tried to sever their bond with the pack faced a punishment known as the exile trial — a ritual meant to mark and punish betrayal.

"I'm sure." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "When?"

Morrison consulted the ceremonial calendar, his weathered face grim. "Seven days from now. " He paused, something shifting in his expression. "That's... that's the same morning as the Alpha's bonding ceremony."

Of course it was. The universe apparently had a twisted sense of humor.

"Perfect," I said, surprised by how bitter I sounded. "Everyone will be too busy celebrating to notice one broken guard getting what she deserves."

"Freya—"

"It's better this way." I cut him off before he could say something that might crack my resolve. "Clean break. No drama. Just... gone."

Morrison studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. But until then, you're still bound to protect this pack. That includes the future Luna."

Right. Susanna. The she-wolf who would soon wear the title I'd never even dared dream of claiming.

"Understood, Beta."

Three hours later, I crouched in the shadows of the oak grove overlooking Moon Lake, watching Zander guide Susanna's hand as she attempted to sketch the landscape.

"Like this?" Her laugh was musical, deliberately charming. The kind of laugh that made Alphas want to move mountains just to hear it again.

"Exactly like that." Zander's voice was warm, indulgent. The voice of a male completely besotted with his chosen female. "You're a natural artist, love."

Love. The endearment hit me like a physical blow. In all our months together, he'd never called me anything but my name. Usually he didn't even manage that—just growled commands against my skin or breathed curses when I drove him past the edge of control.

I should have left. I should have given them their perfect little moment by the lake and saved myself the pain of watching it.

But I stayed.

Maybe because some foolish part of me still needed to see it clearly. Maybe because pain was easier to bear when it finally stopped pretending to be hope.

Zander tucked a strand of Susanna's golden hair behind her ear.

“It's already perfect,” he said. “Just like you.”

My fingers curled against the bark beside me.

Now I understood.

He knew how to be soft. He knew how to speak gently, how to look at a woman as if she mattered, how to make a simple touch feel like a promise.

He had simply never chosen to do those things for me.