Chapter 2

Bryn POV:

I pushed myself up from the cold marble floor, leaving the shattered porcelain behind. Ignoring the first-aid kit in the hall cabinet, I walked straight into the master bathroom and turned on the shower. Freezing water poured over my head, washing the dried blood and ten years of humiliation down the drain.

Shutting off the tap, I stood before the vanity mirror and stared into my dark, exhausted eyes. I pulled down the wet collar of my shirt to look at the hideous silver burn across my left shoulder. Silver is the only fatal weakness granted by the Moon Goddess to destroy a werewolf, leaving scorched scars that even the strongest healing factor can never erase. I rubbed my temple and let out a bitter, mocking laugh at my own stupidity.

I dried myself off, walked out of the bathroom, and knelt beside the closet safe. From the hidden bottom compartment, I pulled out an encrypted black laptop. My fingers flew across the keyboard, bypassing the White Pack's security firewalls in seconds to enter a dark-web frequency.

A chat window popped up with a flashing "A" avatar. I typed a quick command to Amir Hebert, my childhood friend from the border territories and a top-tier hacker.

"Amir, get the safe house ready. I'm leaving tomorrow."

His reply came almost instantly, the text practically vibrating with his usual volatile temper.

"What happened? Did those White Pack bastards bully you again? I'm hacking their defense grid right now!"

"Don't bother," I typed back. "I'm cutting ties with my own hands. Pick me up at the Healer clinic tomorrow morning at ten."

I slammed the laptop shut, severing the signal trace. Walking over to the mahogany desk, I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a stack of documents I had drafted weeks ago—the Mate-Bond Termination Agreement and a full waiver of pack assets. I uncapped a pen and signed "Bryn Rivers" across the bottom line without a second thought.

For the rest of the night, I sat alone on the leather sofa in the living room. I watched the gray morning light of Manhattan slowly creep over the skyline, my chest completely hollow and still.

At eight o'clock sharp, the digital lock beeped. Harden pushed the door open, reeking of antiseptic and lingering rage. His bespoke suit jacket hung loosely over his arm, and he yanked his silk tie loose as he stepped inside.

When he spotted me sitting on the sofa with a crusted gash still visible on my forehead, his footsteps faltered for a split second. His dark gray eyes flickered with a strange, unreadable tension.

Within a heartbeat, his usual arrogance wiped it away. He marched over, towering above the sofa, and narrowed his eyes to release his suffocating Alpha pressure once more.

"Grandma is out of danger. Now, get up and come with me to the clinic. You're going to kneel by Cathey's bed and beg for her forgiveness."

I didn't cower or drop my gaze the way I used to over the past ten years. I rose slowly to my feet, looking at him as if he were a complete stranger on the street.

"And if I refuse?"

Harden's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Do you really think a genetic defect like you has the right to bargain with me? Without the shelter of the White Pack, a wolfless woman is worth less than a stray dog in the wasteland!"

I laughed out loud. The sound echoed sharply against the glass walls of the penthouse. I looked straight into the eyes of this untouchable billionaire Alpha and spoke each word with icy clarity.

"Harden, we're done."

His pupils contracted violently, and I could hear the muffled, restless snarl of his inner Dire Wolf beneath his skin. His hand shot out instinctively to grab my upper arm.

"Have you lost your mind?"

I stepped sideways, easily dodging his fingers, and whipped the signed termination agreement off the side table. I flung the stack of papers straight at him. The crisp pages sliced through the air and scattered right at his polished shoes.