ra

n a dimly lit, neutral-territory restaurant in SoHo, the crisp white tablecloth a stark contrast to the dirty reality o

ned smile flashing as he poured me a glass of expensive Merlot. "The Aeg

ar. It was an aggressive, suffocating blend of expensive designer fragrance and the sharp, acidic tang of jealousy. It was a scent I knew intima

onspiratorially, "that the Thorne Pack is planning a massive power play at the S

related to the Plan B. He wasn't just cheating; h

, my voice eerily calm. "I

the one Kaelen hadn't confiscated-and opened my messages. As a wolfless Omega, I couldn't use the Mind-Link, but human te

e to help, but the moon phase is dreadful tonight.

blog this afternoon featuring photos of Cassandra Thorne arr

fe was in my hand; I ju

iven me face-up on the tablecloth. "I hope Cassandra is alright," I said casually,

. The color drained from his fa

unknown number, but the preview text was unmistakable. It was a photo atta

phone, resting face-down next to

staurant like a cornered rat. "Elara, I'm so sorry," he stammered, already standing up and throwing a hundred-

ow cab waiting outside in the drizzlin

moment, please," I

I watched the little blue dot representing Julian move rapidly across the digital map of Manhattan. It didn't head toward his apartment. It didn't

e. I had been betrayed by my boyfriend, mocked by a woman I thought was at lea

didn't shed a single tear. The Elara who would

t building, I was entirely numb. I kicked aside a de

ian phone in my

len Blackwood. Not a question, but a ch

eart had just been ripped out. A hysterical, exhausted laugh bubbled in my throat. I didn't

ater, the phone

the

lowly turned my head and crept toward the door,

allway, looking like a lethal predator who had just tr