Chapter 2

After dinner, I opened the pack's members-only app and went looking for Cade's friend.

The one from out west. The one about to make a protection vow to a woman he'd promised to look after. The one Cade kept spending whole afternoons helping.

It took me less than a minute to find him. The account was three weeks old, and not a single photo showed a face.

The newest post was a man in a dark green suit.

His head had been cropped out. His jaw hadn't, not all the way.

I knew the little white scar under it. I'd kissed it that morning.

In the next picture, his fingers were laced through a woman's. On his ring finger was a pale strip of skin where his wedding band should have been.

His cuffs were fastened with gold cufflinks. Celeste had shown them off at a council dinner last month and said she was saving them for someone special.

The caption said: Took the long way. Still came home to me.

I went to Cade's study.

In the bottom drawer of his desk sat an old shoebox I'd never opened. I'd always believed a man was allowed to keep a few things to himself.

Tonight, I opened it.

Near the top was a photo of Celeste at nineteen, laughing at the camera. On the back, in Cade's handwriting, was the same line.

I sat in his chair until the room stopped spinning.

The vacation. The made-up friend. A whole account built to hide in plain sight.

None of this was an accident. He'd planned it piece by piece, between family dinners and council meetings, while I slept next to him every night.

I picked up my phone and texted Sadie.

Is the partnership offer still open?

She answered almost right away.

For you? Always.

A few months back, she'd asked me to join the trading company she'd started in Reykjavik, on land under the protection of the Frostvale Pack. She and her two partners would give me a quarter of the company to build out their operations. They didn't want my money. They wanted what I knew.

I'd told her I couldn't uproot my family.

Now I typed: I'm in. And I need a lawyer who can handle a pack separation and a regular divorce.

The dots showed up, went away, showed up again.

Then: Calling you in five. Are you safe?

It was the first question anyone had asked me all night that made me feel a little less alone.

Cade got home close to midnight.

His shirt was open at the throat. Under the whiskey, I could smell Celeste's perfume. There was a smear of lipstick near his collar that somebody had tried to rub off and failed.

"Still up?" He grinned. "Don't tell me you waited for me. You know how it is with the guys. I lose track of time."

He went straight into the shower.

There was a time he'd come find me first. No matter how tired he was, his hand would find the back of my neck, and he'd rest his forehead against mine.

I stood in the hall and listened to the water run.

Then I heard Milo crying.

He was sitting up against his pillows, holding the old phone I let him use for games and calls with Grandma.

"Bad dream?"

He shook his head and turned the screen toward me.

It was Poppy, Celeste's little girl. She was sitting on a brand-new pony with a pink bow in its mane, a tablet tucked under her arm, smiling so big it took up the whole picture.

The caption said: Best daddy EVER!!

Milo touched the edge of the screen.

"I saw Dad looking at that pony. On his computer."

My chest went tight.

"He said the drone cost too much." He looked up at me. "Is a pony cheaper?"

"No, sweetheart."

"Oh."

That one little word nearly broke me.

Cade always said an Alpha's son had to learn self-control. Too many toys made boys soft. A future leader should know how to go without.

When I took Milo out for ice cream after a rough day at school, Cade said I was spoiling him. When Milo asked for a set of real artist markers, he was told to use the ones he had.

And now some other kid was sitting on a pony, calling Cade Daddy.

"Did I ask wrong?" Milo whispered.

I took the phone from him.

"No. You didn't do anything wrong."

I stayed until he fell asleep, his fingers still hooked around mine.

Then I went downstairs and waited.

Cade came out of the shower, rubbing a towel through his hair.

"You said you'd bring Milo something."

He made a face, like I'd reminded him to pick up milk.

"Forgot. I'll grab him something next time." He sat down next to me and slid an arm around my waist. "Besides, you know how I feel about it. A kid doesn't need a prize for breathing."

I lifted his arm off me.