He doesn’t move. Just stands there, watching me with those dark eyes that flash gold every few seconds, his jaw clenched tight.
I turn and walk away. My legs feel like they may give out, but I force them to move. One foot in front of the other.
Don’t run. Don’t cry. Don’t let him see.
The hallway stretches endlessly. Every step takes monumentaleffort. My breathing is too shallow, too quick. I can’t seem to get enough air into my lungs.
There’s a howling inside my chest. Not quite a sound, more like a feeling of grief so deep, it has its own voice. It’s unfamiliar and terrifying, and I don’t understand where it’s coming from or why it hurts so much.
I reach my bedroom door, and my hands shake as I turn the handle.
Inside. Just get inside.
I slip through the door and close it behind me, my back pressing against the wood. For a moment, I just stand there, staring at the room that doesn’t feel like mine.
Then, my knees buckle.
I slide down the door, my body crumpling until I’m sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest. The first sob rips from my throat before I even know it’s going to happen.
I stuff my fist into my mouth, biting down hard enough to taste blood.
The tears come anyway.
They pour down my cheeks in hot streams, and I can’t stop them. Can’t control the way my body shakes with each ragged breath. My chest feels like it’s caving in, like something vital has been carved out and I’m bleeding internally, where no one can see.
I’ve been insulted before. Called weak, useless, a burden. I’ve survived my mother’s cruelty, the pack’s disdain, years of isolation. I’ve built walls specifically to protect myself from moments like this.
But hearing Darius say those things…
It shouldn’t matter. He’s nothing to me. Just another person who thinks I’m worthless.
Except there’s this wounded thing inside me that’s breaking. Something primal that doesn’t understand why the person I felt so drawn to at dinner would say such terrible things.
I press my fist harder against my mouth, muffling the sobs that keep coming. My whole body trembles with the force of trying to hold myself together, to keep the pieces from scatteringcompletely.
The photograph on my nightstand catches my eye through my tears. My father. Trevor. The people who loved me unconditionally, who made me feel like I mattered.
They’re gone.
And I’m here, falling apart on a bedroom floor because a man I barely know doesn’t want me around.
“Get it together,” I whisper harshly to myself, my voice breaking. “You’re stronger than this.”
But I don’t feel strong. I feel broken. Shattered.
The howling feeling intensifies, a mournful sound that has no voice but echoes through my bones anyway. It’s grief and confusion and something ancient and instinctive that I can’t name.
The sobs continue to wrack my body, each one tearing through me like a storm I have no way to control. I rock slightly, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees, my fist still pressed against my mouth.
Eventually, the tears slow. The sobs quiet to hiccupping breaths.
But the pain doesn’t fade. It settles deep in my chest, heavy and cold, a reminder that no matter how far I run or how much I change, I’ll never be enough.
Not for this pack.
Not for my mother.
And definitely not for Darius.
