Kneel? He Should Have Run Instead

My boyfriend faked being broke to test me. Three years of it.

When I turned down his last test, I watched him settle his new girlfriend's family debt in one afternoon. Cash he swore he never had.

Told me he'd been rich the whole time. Said he needed to know if I loved him or his money.

Said I failed.

I didn't argue. I just walked out.

Funny thing is, I wasn't broke either. I was the last pureblood heir to the strongest pack on the continent, and I'd been hiding that the whole time too.

Four years later, we ran into each other again. And this time I wasn't hiding anything.

I almost laughed in his face.

Callum stood there in a suit that cost more than his old car, hair combed so slick it looked wet, looking down his nose at me like I owed him money. I actually wondered, for one second, how I ever dated this man.

Callum Bray. My ex.

He had some woman on his arm dripping in jewelry, squeezed into a dress that left nothing to guess at. The two of them had me boxed in against the railing.

We were at the Circle Gala, the one night a year every pack that mattered showed up under one roof. Everyone in that ballroom ran a company, ran a pack, or married into one.

I was wearing a plain black dress. No logo. No jewelry. Nothing that said who I was.

"Marlowe? What are you doing here?" Callum's face twisted, somewhere between disgusted and startled. "Are you following me?"

Following him? I nearly choked on my champagne.

Like he was worth the gas money.

I only came tonight because Ronan liked this dress on me and wouldn't stop asking until I put it on. He'd gotten pulled away by some pack elders the second we walked in, and I'd gotten bored, grabbed a glass of champagne, and stepped out onto the terrace for air.

Instead I found a dog barking at nothing.

"Move," I said. "You're blocking the door."

Callum's jaw tightened like I'd stepped on his tail.

"Don't act so high and mighty, Marlowe. I know you still think about me. But you don't just crash a place like this."

The woman next to him looked me over, head to foot, and laughed. It was a nasty sound.

"This is her? The one who can't even shift, scraping by at the bottom?"

Odette Sharpe. Daughter of a mid-tier pack that ran some shipping companies. To regular people, the Sharpes looked like old money. To an actual pureblood family, they were a business you could crush by making one phone call.

"Sorry you had to see this, Odette." Callum's whole face changed the second he looked at her — disgust melted into something sickly sweet. "She used to be like this back when we dated. Probably heard I was coming tonight as a Sharpe exec and figured she'd talk her way in. Wants me back, most likely."

I looked at his smug face and felt my stomach turn.

He actually thought I was here for him.

"Callum. It's cute that you try to think. Doesn't usually work out for you." I swirled my champagne, bored. "I'm here because I belong here."

"Belong here?" Odette's laugh went up an octave. "A stray with no pack behind her, who can't even shift? What, did you bribe the cleaning staff to get in? Or are you working the room tonight, looking for some rich Alpha to latch onto?"

A few people nearby with drinks in hand turned to look.

Blood and rank were everything in this room. A woman in a plain dress, no pack scent on her, no one standing behind her — people were already deciding what that meant.

Callum saw the crowd forming and puffed his chest out..

"Marlowe, for old times' sake, I'll give you one warning. This isn't a place for someone like you. Walk out the back now and I'll pretend I never saw you. Keep pushing it, and once security checks your invitation, they'll drag you out by the arm."

"You want to check my invitation?" I tilted my head at him.

Funny. My family threw this gala. Did I need an invitation to walk into my own backyard?

"Don't play dumb!" Odette snapped, already turning toward the security guards by the wall and waving them over.

"Security! Over here! We've got someone who snuck in!"