Chapter 2

So that was it.

Cassian had booked his flight, landed in Denver, and met the girl there. Then the two of them had flown off together to Moonwood Wilds.

From Denver, that was five or six hours in the air.

I grabbed my phone and called him.

Straight to voicemail. No ring at all.

Phone off, or in airplane mode. Exactly what I'd expect if he were on a plane.

I tried the bond next, a hard tug on that thin thread. Nothing. Not even the muffled blankness of the mind-wall, just dead silence, as if he'd flown clean out of range. Ours had never been a strong bond.

My heart sank.

I kept scrolling through Valerie's howls.

Six months ago, she'd posted a photo from a steakhouse. Candlelight, red wine, a half-eaten dessert. The caption read: [Pack!! I'm telling my crush how I feel tonight!! Wish me luck 🤞]

A few hours later, she'd pinned a reply in the comments: [We're official!! 🙈]

In the photo, you could see half of a man's arm, his right hand wrapped around a wine glass.

There was a scar on his thumb. Raised, silvery-white, impossible to miss.

I knew that scar.

A few years back, Cassian and I had been hiking deep in the Cascades when he'd stepped into a poacher's silver snare. I'd pried the jaws off him myself. Wolves heal from nearly everything, but not silver. Silver never closes right. It leaves a mark for good.

I pulled up my messages from that date.

That night, I'd had moon cramps so bad I couldn't get out of bed. I'd texted Cassian to pick up some painkillers on his way home. Then I'd left a voice message. Then I'd pushed through the bond, a plea, a pulse of pain, and felt it hit something muffled and dull, like a door closing.

He'd muted it.

I waited. And waited. Until ten o'clock.

When he finally walked in and found me curled up on the bed, he asked what was wrong. He hadn't read a word I'd sent. He hadn't even played the voice message. All he'd fired back was a lazy mm-hm.

Once he understood, he'd felt so bad. He'd smoothed my hair back and said, "Silly. I was working late. Why didn't you just call the healers?"

There was so much tenderness in his voice.

Then he'd gone back out into the rain and brought me medicine himself.

I hadn't thought twice. I'd really believed he was working late.

Now I knew. While I was curled up in agony, he was at a candlelit dinner with another girl.

In her later howls, Valerie had shown off what he'd sent her. Screenshots of Venmo payments. $143. $777. $1,111.

The biggest one was from seven days ago: $1,431.43.

I almost laughed.

Seven days ago was Valentine's Day.

Cassian had come home late that night and wrapped his arms around me. "God, I'm so sorry, Tills. Work's been insane. I got stuck at the office till now."

Then he'd spotted the candles and the wine on the table, and his face had changed, like he'd just remembered something terrible.

"Oh no. Tills. I totally forgot it was Valentine's Day. I'm such an idiot. I messed up. I'll make it up to you, I swear."

Cassian was seven years younger than me. At twenty-nine, he was at the peak of his body. Wolves don't age, but a wolf in his twenties still carries all the heat and hunger and broad shoulders of youth. And he knew exactly what that body could do to me.

We hadn't been together in a long time.

That night, he made it count. He left me completely satisfied.

But after that night, he never touched me again.

Now, finally, I understood.

It wasn't that Cassian had suddenly lost interest in my body. He'd been feasting everywhere else, and he was running on empty.

I kept scrolling.

Then I saw the girl's face, and I froze.

I knew her!

I'd seen her before!