ra

the first time in four yea

. Sitting there was a 2012 Toyota Corolla with a dented rear bumper. It was entirely unremarkable, which was exactly why I bought it

wrist. The sterile smell of old fabric was a welcome comfort, and I merged into the city's rush-hour traffic using only my left hand for the wheel whenever the pain became too sharp.

delivery van. I killed the engine. In the suffocating silence of the dark cabin, I didn't feel sorrow. I felt

lided to a halt in front of the buil

rged. She wore a skin-tight crimson dress, but my eyes immediately locked onto her forearm. Resting there, gleaming und

her waist, pulling her flush against him, and kissed her wit

ed fingers curled inward to avoid pressure. I zoomed in, capturing the license plate, the passionate embrace, and the undeniable proof of his em

wolfless and lacked an Inner Wolf, I was entirely cut off from the Pack's

ternational dinn

t a simple-minded Omega, too weak to ever question him. My thumbs

k

drove aimlessly for a while, eventually crossing the bridge that conn

s pitch black, illuminated only by the distant, hazy glow of the

n my lap, the bandaged knuckles resting against my thigh, untouched. My left hand remained on the steering wheel, fingers curled loosely around the leather. I sobbed into th

They ran dry, leaving behind a h

y left hand, ignoring the barrage of meaningless Pack notifications, and switched it to silent. I

ashboard lights. The pain was a dull, constant ache-a reminder that my body no longer healed the w

steady and echoing with absol

reject you, Adrian C

e key in the ignition and steered the Corolla back toward the Silvercrest P