
Betrayed Luna's New Beginning
Chapter 2
My hands trembled as I stacked the breakfast dishes in the pre-dawn kitchen. Four hours of sleep wasn't enough, but when was it ever? The massive industrial sink steamed with scalding water as I plunged my raw hands in again, ignoring the sting. Just thirty more plates, then I could catch an hour of rest before classes began.
The kitchen duty wasn't required—not technically. But the extra money helped cover Kai's birthday gift last month, the one he'd never acknowledged receiving. My vision blurred slightly, fatigue or tears, I couldn't tell anymore.
"Just a little longer," I whispered to myself, a mantra that had carried me through four years of loving someone who barely noticed I existed.
The room tilted suddenly, the industrial lights overhead smearing into bright streaks. I grabbed for the counter's edge, but my fingers slipped against the wet surface. The stack of plates crashed around me as my knees buckled, porcelain shattering across the tile floor. I tried to call out, but my voice emerged as a thin whisper before darkness swallowed me whole.
I drifted in and out of consciousness, fragments of reality breaking through the haze. Rough hands lifting me. A gruff voice cursing. The antiseptic smell of the pack's medical facility burning my nostrils.
"Foolish girl," came Elara's weathered voice, the elderly pack healer's fingers cool against my burning forehead. "Your body is shutting down. How long have you been pushing yourself like this?"
I tried to form words, but my tongue felt thick and useless in my mouth. The room spun even with my eyes closed.
"Four jobs, they tell me. Four! And for what? So you can buy trinkets for an Alpha who doesn't even remember your birthday?" Elara's voice cracked with rare emotion. "I've treated you three times this month for exhaustion, child. Your immune system is collapsing."
I forced my eyes open, the white ceiling of the infirmary swimming above me. "I need to get to class," I croaked. "My scholarship—"
"Your scholarship won't matter if you're dead," Elara snapped, pressing a cool cloth to my forehead. "I've sent word to Alpha Kai about your condition."
My heart lurched painfully. "No, please, he's busy with—"
"With what? Pack business? That Beta girl?" Elara's ancient eyes narrowed. "A true Alpha would sense his mate's suffering, wolfless or not."
I turned my face away, tears sliding silently into the pillow. We both knew he wouldn't come. Hours passed in the sterile quiet of the infirmary, each tick of the clock another confirmation of what I'd spent years denying.
When I was finally released three days later, my scholarship advisor was waiting with a notice of academic probation. My perfect GPA had slipped to barely passing. Four years of meticulous work crumbling like sand between my fingers.
"Miss Ashford," Professor Blackwood's voice cut through my spiral of panic after class. The visiting lecturer from the Lycan Council gestured me into his empty classroom. "A moment of your time?"
I followed numbly, clutching my probation notice.
"I've reviewed your academic history," he said, his silver-streaked hair catching the afternoon light. "Exceptional until recently. What changed?"
The kindness in his voice nearly broke me. "I've been... distracted," I managed.
"By an Alpha who leaves you in a hospital bed for three days without so much as a text?" His directness startled me. "News travels, even to visiting lecturers."
I stared at the floor, shame burning my cheeks.
"The Lycan Council's European exchange program has an opening," he continued, sliding a folder across his desk. "Three years abroad, working with international packs while completing your studies. Full scholarship, housing stipend included."
My head snapped up. "But I'm—I don't have a wolf."
"Perhaps that's exactly why you're needed." His eyes held mine steadily. "Some wounds can only heal with distance, Miss Ashford. Sometimes the bravest thing is to walk away."
I touched the folder with trembling fingers, feeling something stir in the hollow place inside me where my wolf should be—not quite a voice, but a certainty.
*Run.*
For the first time in four years, I listened.
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