Chapter 2

　　Haydee

　　I woke to pain.

　　Not the dull ache of sleep on a hard surface. This was deep and structural, a wrongness in my chest like something had been pulled out and the wound left open. I tried to breathe through it and couldn't get enough air.

　　The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. Plain white plaster. A single high window letting in grey morning light.

　　The healer's room.

　　Right.

　　I lay still and took inventory. My whole body was one bruise, throat to ribs. My eyes were swollen. My mouth tasted like metal and something medicinal. Someone had removed my borrowed gown and dressed me in a rough cotton shift. The ribbon was gone from my hair.

　　I had collapsed in front of the entire pack.

　　Cole had rejected me in front of the entire pack.

　　I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth and held it there, holding back a sound I refused to make, until the worst of it passed.

　　A woman moved near the window, adjusting something on a shelf. The pack healer. Middle-aged, grey-streaked, with the unhurried hands of long practice.

　　She didn't look at me when she spoke.

　　"You're awake. Good." She crossed to the narrow table beside my cot and set down a cup. "Drink that. All of it."

　　I pushed myself upright. The room tilted, then steadied.

　　"What is it?"

　　"Something to slow the bond deterioration." She picked up a clipboard and made a notation. "The rejection opened a wound in the tether. If the Alpha completes his bond with the Rainhart girl before yours closes, the secondary severance will likely kill you."

　　She said it as if she was reading a weather report. Possible rain. Bring a coat.

　　"Likely," I repeated.

　　"Possibly. The distinction matters less than you'd think." She set the clipboard down. "Drink."

　　I drank. It tasted like copper and pine resin and something that made my back teeth ache. But the tearing sensation in my chest eased by a fraction, and I held onto that fraction like it was something precious.

　　I was still holding the empty cup when the door opened.

　　I knew before I turned.

　　The bond knew. Even wrecked, even poisoned, it lit up the moment he crossed the threshold, a low and traitorous recognition that moved through my body without my permission.

　　I hated it. I hated it with everything I had.

　　Cole closed the door behind him. He didn't look at the healer. His eyes found me.

　　He was still dressed from the ceremony. He'd loosened his collar. His dark eyes moved over me once, assessing, and I watched him decide I was functional enough for what he'd come to say.

　　"Leave us," he told the healer.

　　She left without argument. Why didn't that surprise me?

　　Cole stayed by the door. He didn't sit. He didn't come closer. He held the room like it had always been his.

　　"You're going to keep quiet about the bond," he said.

　　Not a request. He delivered it like a verdict. Already closed.

　　"It benefits neither of us to make this into something it isn't."

　　I set the cup down on the cot beside me. My hands were steadier than they had any right to be.

　　"It is something," I said. "It's a mate bond. I didn't choose it, but it's real."

　　"It's an error in the Moon Goddess's design." His voice didn't change. "Tara-Lee is my chosen. The pack accepts her. That's not going to shift because of last night."

　　"You think I'm going to stand up in the pack hall and beg people to believe me?"

　　"I think you're going to do whatever you have to do to survive this." He said it without heat. "Silence is the logical choice. For both of us."

　　He was right. I knew he was right. The terrible thing was how reasonable he sounded, how clean the logic was, how he could reduce the worst moment of my life to a variable in an equation and get the math to work.

　　I thought about what a rogue's life amounted to. Packless. No territory, no protection, no name. Prey.

　　I thought about staying quiet and watching Tara-Lee become Luna while the bond tore through me in silence, a wound no one was allowed to acknowledge.

　　"No," I said.

　　One word. I didn't dress it up or explain it or soften it for him.

　　Something moved through his eyes. Not anger. Cole Shade didn't get angry in front of low-ranks. He got precise.

　　"If you force my hand," he said, "I will banish you from Silvercrest. You have no family here. No rank. No alliances." A pause. "You'd be a rogue."

　　A rogue. Packless. Territory-less. Prey for any wolf who decided to make a problem of me.

　　He meant it. I could see it in his face, in the absence of any hesitation. Cole would throw me away twice without losing a night's sleep.

　　I opened my mouth.

　　And then I stopped.

　　Cole held my gaze for a long moment. Then he turned, opened the door, and walked out.

　　The latch clicked shut.

　　I sat in the silence and breathed.

　　I had said no to an Alpha. To my Alpha. To the man who had already taken everything from me once and was offering me the chance to at least keep my home.

　　I didn't know if it was brave or stupid. I wasn't sure the distinction mattered anymore.

　　***

　　I don't know how much time passed.

　　Long enough for the grey light to shift. Long enough for the ache in my chest to settle into something I could almost name.

　　Then something crossed the bond like a hand drawn across still water. Distant. Warm. Not directed at me. Cole had shifted his attention. He found her somewhere across the pack grounds, through some corridor or doorway I couldn't see. His hand closed around Tara-Lee's.

　　A touch. Just a touch.

　　The pain was immediate and enormous and it had nothing to do with jealousy.

　　It was the bond. The open wound of it, reacting to him reaching toward someone else, and it was like pressing a finger into a fresh cut and pushing down.

　　My nose began to bleed.

　　A warmth touched my upper lip before I saw it, then the copper taste, then the drop that hit the white cotton of my shift and spread, dark against the white.

　　The blood kept coming. I pressed the hem of my shift against my face and tilted my head and told myself I would not cry on top of it.

　　I could not make the bleeding stop.