Chapter 2
Elena's POV
"Happy now? Elena, when did you become such a goddamn MONSTER?"
I looked at him and started laughing.
"Monster? Ethan, that's not what you called me back at the werewolf academy when we were eighteen."
Ethan froze.
"Remember those assholes from other packs who looked down on me? I fought them and ripped one wolf's throat out. You were CHEERING for me then. You said your future Luna didn't need weak mercy. So what changed? Now you think I'm the monster?"
Ethan's throat worked, fists clenched tight. To keep up his amnesia act, he swallowed his rage.
"I... I was just being impulsive." He turned away stiffly. "My wolf messed with my head, made me lose it. I didn't mean to snap at you."
"Right, she's your fated mate after all." I sneered. "Of course you're worried about her."
Ethan's eyes lit up with eagerness. "Exactly. Since you get it, when can we break the bond?"
"No rush." I said casually. "Wait till my birthday."
Ethan frowned. "Why? Are you trying to stall—"
"Relax, it's in three days." I blew out smoke. "What, can't wait even that long?"
Under my stare, he managed a weak smile. "Of course I can. Three days it is."
The second he finished talking, he spun around and bolted from the main hall.
I stood by the windows, watching him rush to Celine's quarters.
Pathetic. He was so desperate to comfort his beaten darling, he didn't even realize—three days from now wasn't my birthday at all.
For the next two days, Ethan had to keep playing his "devoted eighteen-year-old lover" to keep up the act.
He moved back into our old room and even supervised the chef making cinnamon pumpkin soup, blowing it cool when he brought it over.
"Elena, I know I've been cold before." He hung his head, putting on that teenage sincerity. "But before we break the bond, I want to make things right."
Looking at that soup made me sick.
Our first year together, I got sick and mentioned craving wild berries from the frontier market. Back then, Ethan ran through half the forest in a blizzard to get them.
Now he didn't even know I was deathly allergic to cinnamon.
Until the night before my "birthday."
The wolfsbane kept me awake. I walked to the end of the hall and heard Celine crying around the corner.
"Ethan, Leo's in serious danger!" Celine held her three-year-old bastard, sobbing. "He's your blood, going through his first shift! Without his father there, he could die from the frenzy!"
"I KNOW! But I have to keep Elena calm right now." Ethan held her tight. "The second she breaks our bond, I'll mate with you and mark you officially."
"What about our son? Tomorrow's the full moon—peak shifting time—and you're still playing house with that BITCH!"
"The minute that birthday thing ends, I'm out of there." Ethan promised through his teeth. "I'll be right there with Leo. He's my only son. Nothing's gonna happen to him."
I stood in the shadows, moonlight turning my face ghostly white.
Their kid needed protection. But who remembered MY child?
The next day—my "birthday."
The main hall had some token flowers. Ethan kept checking his watch, glancing at the window every few minutes.
"Elena," he finally stood up, his hug barely there. "My curse is acting up—splitting headache. I need to see the shaman. Tonight's party, I might have to—"
"Drive." I cut him off. "Take me somewhere. When we get back, I'll break the bond."
Hearing that, Ethan swallowed whatever excuse he had and grabbed the keys.
Half an hour later, our SUV tore out of pack territory.
The landscape turned barren, the air thick with metallic scents that made werewolves sick.
Ethan's face went tight, foot heavy on the gas. "Elena, where the HELL are we going? This curse is killing me—I have to get back before dark!"
"What's the rush? Almost there." I stared out the window.
The SUV stopped at a canyon edge—The Silver Ridge. Nothing grew here. The ground was littered with hunters' abandoned silver traps.
"Elena, are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" Ethan jumped out, saw the traps, and lost it completely. "What the FUCK are we doing here?! I don't have time for this—don't you know what day this is?!"
Today his son's life hung in the balance.
I got out calmly, stepped onto the silver-poisoned soil, and faced this man whose mask was cracking.
"Why today? Why this shithole?" Ethan stormed over and grabbed my wrist. "ANSWER me!"
I yanked free, pointed at the black earth under our feet, and said it slow:
"Don't you remember, Ethan? Three years ago, right where you're standing—our baby DIED right here."
Ethan went white as death.
