Chapter 2

I tried one last time. "So, are we going to run together tomorrow? Same teams?" Mary smiled at me like I was a child. "I'm leading the east flank. Shane's with me. Didn't you hear?" She glanced at him, conspiratorial. "They need us to coordinate. Too many new pups this year." My face flushed. "I hadn't heard." I wasn’t even on my fiancé’s team? I set up this year’s games and somehow Mary managed to hijack it. She even set up teams and left me out of the game this year. I should have told her no. I should have said something. Instead, I sat there. Feeling myself disappear in plain sight. Mary squeezed my knee, too hard to be friendly. "We'll let you know how it goes. You can always run clean-up behind us." Laughter erupted, but I didn't join in. A commotion yanked Mary's attention. Someone called her name. She squeezed Shane's hand and glided away. I took a breath. Last chance. "So, tonight ... do you want to watch a movie?" He hesitated, and in that split second, I saw the answer. "Maybe next time. She and I have some stuff to go over before teams get sorted. Pack business." "Yeah, of course." He smiled thinly. "I'm sure you'll want to turn in early anyway." Mary reappeared at the door, silhouetted by moonlight. She beckoned—a two-fingered gesture just for him. Shane pushed off the bench, hesitated as if remembering me, then clapped my shoulder. "Rest up. You'll need it." Wow, he patted my shoulder like I was a buddy. I watched him go, following Mary. What the hell was I doing? The laughter faded as I sat there, shrinking into the wood grain. I wandered out into the night, every step weighted with what I couldn't say. Even the moon seemed smaller, nibbled down to a sickle. I wrapped my arms tight and walked until the chill bit through. In the distance, I could hear Mary's voice, Shane's laughter, ringing out. Near the forest edge, I saw them. Shane leaned against a tree, Mary pressed close, her back arched, voice pitched for intimacy. She talked with her hands, touching his wrist, tracing patterns in the air. Every so often, she'd laugh and brush her hair back. It was a tiny performance that reeled Shane in further. I watched, unseen. I had always been good at blending into the background. Even more so lately. Shane looked different with her. He smiled easily, listened with his whole body, like nothing else existed. The way he used to be with me. Every time Mary touched him, I felt it—not just jealousy, but physical absence, like someone was scraping out parts of me I couldn't spare. As they disappeared into the forest together, I thought I'd be angry. But it was something colder, an icicle lodged in my chest. It wasn't about Mary taking him. It was about how easy it had been for him to go. About how quickly I'd become optional. Tomorrow would come, and the hunt, and whatever waited after. But tonight, it was just me and the dark, and the promise that I would never let myself fade out again. I stared at the package in my lap, thumbs worrying the navy blue twine. The pendant inside was a wolf, hand-carved from an aspen tree where we used to go on dates. I'd spent every spare hour after training in secret, sanding and shaping, until it matched a wolf. The loop at the top was silver wire, and I'd etched our pack symbol into the belly. The hunt had been a blur. Shane had barely looked at me, his attention fixed ahead. When the kill came, he was triumphant at the front, and I was on the sidelines. Our pack's tradition for the day after the hunt was gifts for the alpha and the pack's champion. This year, that meant Shane. I tried to congratulate him when he won, but Mary was there jumping in front of him and he didn’t even see me. The main hall was crowded when I arrived. I pressed the pendant to my chest and slipped along the wall. Shane sat at the head table, flanked by senior runners and older wolves. He looked bored, fingers drumming restlessly. When he spotted me, his face didn't change. Not a flicker. I stood at the edge of the table. The conversation died around me. I forced my feet to move the three steps to close the gap. "For you," I said softly. Shane's gaze flicked from my face to the package. He took it, weighed it, and untied the string. The velvet fell away, and the wolf pendant gleamed in the lamplight. I waited for his reaction. I imagined he would be touched by the effort I put into it. Instead, he held the pendant up by its cord, twisting it in the light. He looked at it the way you might look at a strange bug. Then he let it drop to the table. "I don't need trinkets, Leah. You should focus on your runs, not on this ... arts-and-crafts." Uncomfortable laughter rippled through nearby packmates. My cheeks burned hotter than fire. "I thought you'd like it," I managed. "I made it from—" Shane didn't look at me. "I don't need an ornament that looks like it was made by a child. Next time, save the wood for the fire." I stood there, the whole hall stretching out in a tunnel of noise and sympathetic stares. The pendant lay on the table, a dead thing. Then he picked it up and shoved it in my hands, too disgusted to even look at it. I turned away before I could cry, catching a couple of younger wolves gawking at me, their eyes wide with pity. They were only in their late teens, but even they knew his reaction was wrong. Yet here I was at 23, too numb to defend myself. Shane had never openly humiliated me to this extent. I told myself not to run. I walked with my back straight, even as I felt their laughter gnaw at me. I made it to the door before the tears started. Whatever Shane and I had, it was gone. This relationship was over. I wouldn't cling to it anymore. Why he hadn’t ended it already, I didn’t know. But I was not going to live like this anymore.