Her Second Dance, His First Regret

"You're dead, Phoebe!"

Jared, in a blind rage, shoved me to the ground.

The back of my head slammed hard against the silver inlay of the fireplace. A searing pain exploded behind my eyes.

Through the haze, I heard his voice, sharp and cruel.

"You've gone too far, Phoebe!"

"You're not fit to touch a single hair on Amber's head! She's a thousand times kinder than you will ever be!"

"Being under the same roof as you is suffocating. The air feels foul. You make me sick!"

I swallowed the pain, cutting him off.

"I'll move out. Don't worry."

That shut him up. He stood there, stunned for a moment, before snorting in disbelief.

"You'd better keep your word."

He shot me one last glare, then swept Amber into his arms and left without looking back.

I touched the back of my head. My fingers came away sticky with blood.

I remembered, when he first learned we were fated mates, he had said my scent was intoxicating. That's how the mate bond works.

Later, he said he wanted to smell it all the time and begged me to move in.

I agreed without a second thought.

The same man who once held me close and whispered sweet nothings was now spewing venom at me for another woman.

I was bleeding on the floor, yet he carried Amber away without a single glance in my direction.

But it didn't matter anymore.

I just had to wait for Jared's parents to return. Then, our families could witness the severing of the mate bond.

I struggled to my feet and mind-linked the pack healer.

At the infirmary, the healer told me wounds caused by silver were notoriously slow to heal. I also had a hairline fracture in my forearm from breaking my fall.

I sighed. In the past, an injury like this would have healed on its own in hours.

But now—perhaps because my reincarnated soul hadn't fully settled—my inner wolf felt weak, her energy flickering like a dying bulb.

There was no telling how long recovery would take.

With nowhere else to go and not wanting to worry my parents, I stayed alone in the infirmary.

As I walked out of the examination room, a wave of dizziness nearly sent me to the floor.

A pair of strong arms steadied me.

"Careful."

A low, magnetic voice. I looked up.

It was Ronan.

"Thank you, Ronan."

I gently stepped back from his embrace.

He hesitated, then awkwardly withdrew his hands, a flicker of disappointment crossing his eyes.

I couldn't bring myself to look at him and hurried away.

He saved my life once. In this one, I won't let him die for me. Never again.

But his feelings… I didn't know how to face them. Not yet.

I stayed in the infirmary for three days.

After being discharged, I went back for my things and moved into a new apartment that same afternoon.

The apartment I’d found in a rush was a surprisingly nice little place, affordable and well-located.

I was enjoying the rare peace and quiet when, on the fourth day, a command barked through our incomplete mate bond. It was Jared.

He sounded drunk.

"Where are you?"

"The Connaught, West Wing. Get over here now."

I was in the middle of a game, and he had interrupted a crucial round. I was pissed.

"What do you want?"

Silence on the other end of the mind-link. The background noise faded as he focused.

I frowned and was about to cut the connection when Jared’s voice came through again.

"Phoebe, where the hell have you been?"

I started a new round, my eyes glued to the screen. "You said living under the same roof as me made the air unbreathable. So I moved out." I added sweetly, "Don't worry. I'm not coming back."

His breathing grew heavy. Then, a cold, humorless laugh.

"Since when are you so obedient, Phoebe?"

"Weren't you the one clinging to me, swearing you couldn't live without me?"

"Since you're being so compliant—why don't you leave the city? Get out of my life. Stop getting in the way of me and Amber. Can you do that?"

I was completely absorbed in my game, eyes fixed on the screen.

It took a moment for his words to cut through my concentration.

His mocking voice cut through my thoughts.

"What, nothing to say?"

"You think I don't know your pathetic little games by now?"

"You think I can't see you're still obsessed with me?"

"Kneel and apologize to Amber, and I'll consider letting you come crawling back."

"Fine," I said calmly. "I'll leave, Jared."

Before he could respond, I reached for the fragile thread of our bond—the one I had clung to for so long—and snapped it.