Chapter 1Dinner with Croft and his pack brothers.
Normal night. Or so I thought.
Then I looked up and realized Zinnia wasn't wearing a bra.
I was still deciding whether to say something when Croft's face went stone cold.
He grabbed my jacket off my chair and dragged her outside without a word.
They were gone a while.
When they came back, she had my jacket on. Buttoned.
"Ugh, seriously? You're such a killjoy." She rolled her eyes. "We're wolves. Who cares."
Then she grabbed Croft's hand—and pressed it straight onto her chest.
"I'm basically flat anyway. What's the big deal?"
Croft yanked his hand back and gave her a hard look.
Then he tossed my jacket back at me.
I checked my bag.
My spare chest wrap was gone.
"Oh—right." Croft scratched the back of his neck. "I gave Zinnia yours."
...Seriously?
He went through my bag.
To take care of her?
I smiled.
"Get it back."
"Or I'll go take it off her myself."
"And trust me—by the time I'm done, she'll be showing a lot more than just her chest."
---
Every guy at that table suddenly found the wall very interesting.
Croft's jaw went tight. He wasn't expecting that from me.
I was always the calm one. The patient one.
"You're seriously making this a whole thing? Over that?"
Zinnia patted his shoulder, then reached under the jacket and pulled off the wrap. Held it out to me.
"Here. He's being an idiot—not your fault. I didn't even ask for it. He literally stood outside the bathroom and wouldn't move until I put the thing on."
"Eyes forward."
Croft barked at the table.
Then he stripped off his own shirt and draped it over Zinnia's shoulders.
"Can you just—I don't know—act normal for five minutes?"
Zinnia pouted. "What's normal supposed to look like?"
She glanced over at me.
The look on her face said it all. Faint. Dismissive. Like I was something she'd tracked in on her shoe.
"If that's normal—" she nodded toward me, "—then just keep treating me like one of the guys."
Croft's whole face did this thing.
Soft. Protective. Possessive.
Not for me.
I stood up, grabbed his pack bag off the couch, and turned it upside down.
Everything spilled out.
Heat patch. Protein bar. Extra painkillers. A spare set of clothes—her size.
All Zinnia's.
This morning I had specifically asked him to pick up my fever tonic from the pack healer's drop-off.
He'd forgotten.
Hadn't even crossed his mind.
"With a memory that selective?" I said. "You'd make a terrible Alpha. Might want to get that looked at."
I shoved the chest wrap into his bag and threw it at him on my way out.
"I don't want something that's been on someone else. Keep it for her. And next time? Go through your own bag."
Looked like his bag had a new permanent resident.
"What is your problem?"
He caught up to me at the door, hand around my arm.
"You know how Zinnia is. She's always been like this. It's not a big deal."
I didn't answer.
His grip loosened. Voice dropped.
"I won't touch your stuff again, okay? I'll get her her own. Just—come on."
He still didn't get it.
Even now.
"It's my last night before the mating ceremony. Can you give me a break here?"
I pulled my arm free.
"You've been crossing lines for a long time, Croft."
"What—is there some kind of farewell countdown I don't know about? How many last times does she get?"
He looked genuinely confused.
And that almost made it worse.
"I picked our mating ceremony location by myself. Because you had to have one last solo hunt with her."
"We pushed back our healer's pre-bond check. Because you two had a last solo run planned at the ridge."
"You were late to our bonding announcement. Because your last patrol with her still had thirty minutes left."
"And now that all your last times are finally done—there's this big group send-off. But Zinnia still has to be there, right?"
I looked him in the eyes.
Waiting.
Guilt. Awareness. Something.
Nothing.
He exhaled and spread his hands wide.
"We grew up in the same den, Vesna. She's basically my littermate. Are you seriously jealous of her right now?"
"And this is for you. You're the one who said I can't run solo with other she-wolves after we bond—so we're just saying goodbye while we still can."
"Vesna."
Zinnia's voice came from right behind us.
"I heard all of that."
She paused.
"And honestly—when your packmate's about to bond, yeah. Some distance makes sense."
She looked straight at me as she said it.
"Croft, baby." A small smile pulled at her mouth. "This is the last time it's just you and me."
Her eyes were shining.
Not with regret.
Not even close.
Chapter 2
Zinnia threw Croft's shirt back at him, pulled out her phone, and called a ride.
Gone in under two minutes.
Croft looked like someone had punched him in the chest.
He took two steps after her.
Then stopped.
Remembered I was still standing there.
His pack brothers had followed us out. Now they were looking at me like I was the problem.
"Bro, if Zinnia—Zinnia—got fed up enough to leave? Maybe Vesna's got a point about the whole crew."
"For real. At this rate I'm gonna have to watch what I wear around her."
Croft shut that down fast.
"Are you serious right now? We made a vow. Pack before everything. You really want to go back on that?"
Then he turned to me.
Face shifting. Trying to look calm.
"Vesna. Can we just—move past this?"
I looked at him.
Then at the guys behind him.
Then I nodded.
"Sure. Right after we break the bond."
I flagged down a ride.
Croft slid in next to me before I could stop him.
He immediately rolled down the window and called back to his brothers:
"Go make sure Zinnia gets home. She had too much to drink tonight. Don't leave until you hear from her."
I turned and stared out the window.
Didn't say a word.
Zinnia was the first person Croft ever introduced me to after we were paired.
I still remember the way she looked me up and down.
Slow. Unimpressed.
"Huh. Didn't think you'd go for someone this... tame."
What Croft didn't know—and what I never told him—was that I'd actually seen her before that.
Elena, the Omega caretaker our family kept on, had a photo on her dresser. Her and a daughter. She talked about that girl constantly. Obedient. Sweet. Gentle.
Then I met Zinnia.
Didn't add up. Not even close.
It wasn't until a contact in the rogue enforcement unit sent me something that I understood why.
Photos. From a raid on an off-territory gathering. Zinnia in a wig, sitting in some rogue male's lap, feeding him drinks mouth to mouth. Not subtle. Not a one-time thing.
I didn't say anything.
Figured it wasn't my business.
Maybe she had her reasons.
Maybe I was wrong to assume.
Now?
I let out a slow breath and said quietly:
"Croft. I'm tired. I want out."
Silence.
I turned to look at him.
He was staring at his phone. Thumb moving. Refreshing.
Then a message came through.
[She made it home. All good.]
His shoulders dropped. The tension bled right out of him.
He looked up.
"Sorry—what were you saying?"
And that was the moment.
That was the exact moment I felt something in me just... go flat.
Tears hit before I could stop them.
Croft looked panicked. Reached over, cupped my face, wiped them away.
"Hey. Hey—I swear I won't meet with her alone anymore. Ever. Okay?"
I looked straight at him.
"Croft. I'm ending the bond."
I said it at least a dozen more times that week.
He didn't leave.
Just... stayed. Showed up in the kitchen every morning. Cooked. Cleaned. Folded laundry like that meant something.
I was splitting our shared territory claims and pack property on my laptop, trying to stay numb.
He started running again at night—long, punishing runs that used to be our thing. Before Zinnia started joining them.
He'd come back and just sit on the back steps, not shifting back for a while. Staring at nothing.
At dinner one night he stared at his plate for so long it got cold.
It was her favorite meal.
He'd made it for her.
Even when he found the chest wrap still in his bag, he just sat there holding it.
Didn't throw it out.
Didn't say anything.
Just held it.
Then one afternoon one of his brothers called.
Croft stepped outside.
Voice low.
"Is Zinnia gonna be there?"
He listened.
Came back inside.
"Going for a run with the guys."
He was halfway to the door in his sweats when he stopped, looked down at himself, went back to the room.
Changed into a clean shirt.
Spent ten minutes fixing his hair.
Came out looking like a pup on his first run-out.
All lit up.
I watched him and said, flat:
"Hot date?"
He kissed the side of my head—fast, automatic, already moving—and walked out.
I stood there in the silence he left behind.
Didn't matter how much I tried to shut it off.
It still hurt.
I wiped my face.
Pulled out the mating ceremony folder I'd been putting together for months.
Tore it in half.
Then called the venue coordinator.
"Hi. I need to cancel the bonding ceremony booking."
Chapter 3
He was back within the hour.
Dropped onto the couch like all the air had gone out of him.
Didn't say a word.
I looked up from my laptop. "Thought you were going for a run."
He grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it across the room.
"You want the truth? Fine. Zinnia left the second she heard I was coming." His voice cracked. "You happy now?"
I just stared at him.
He caught himself. Ran both hands through his hair.
"...Sorry. That wasn't fair. I'm not mad at you." He exhaled hard. "I'm just—I don't know. It hurts, losing that."
I didn't have anything to say to that.
I stood up. "I'm going to bed."
He didn't move.
The light in the front room was still on when I finally fell asleep.
I woke up to pain.
Not dull. Not vague.
Sharp. Right side. Low.
"Croft—" My voice came out wrong. Weak. "Something's wrong."
He was in the doorway fast. Took one look at me—soaked through, shaking—and crossed the room.
"Okay. Okay, we're going. Right now. Come on."
He grabbed my jacket off the chair and started helping me into it.
Then his phone went off.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
And again.
He finally picked up, voice tight: "It's the middle of the night—Vesna's sick, I'm not—"
"It's Zinnia." The voice on the other end dropped. "Sorry, sorry—forget it, your mate comes first—"
Croft went still.
"What happened to Zinnia? Tell me."
My jacket slid off my shoulders.
"She's a mess, man. Drunk, crying, screaming your name. Pack brothers can't get her to calm down. She keeps saying she needs you."
Croft set my jacket down.
Went to the cabinet. Came back with a couple of painkillers and a water bottle.
Set them on the nightstand.
"These'll take the edge off." He wouldn't quite meet my eyes. "It's probably just a bad cramp. I'll sort Zinnia out and come straight back, then we'll go get you checked out."
I grabbed his wrist.
Both hands.
"Croft. I can't—it really hurts. Please. Just take me."
He looked down at my hands on his arm.
Then he carefully removed them.
"I'll make it right after. I swear." His voice was calm. Decided. "But I made her a promise a long time ago. When she needs me, I show up. That doesn't just stop."
The door shut behind him.
A minute later, my phone buzzed.
[Hey—forgot to leave water out. There's some in the kitchen.]
My phone died right after that.
I got myself off the bed.
Took a while.
Made it down the hall to Breccan's door and knocked until my knuckles hurt.
He opened it, took one look at me, and didn't ask questions.
Just picked me up and drove.
I threw up twice on the way in.
Breccan got me into the pack clinic fast. While the healer was prepping me, I heard him step outside to call Croft.
Calm voice. Clear.
"She needs emergency surgery. Appendix. You need to come."
A pause.
Croft's voice came through the phone, steady:
"Breccan, I can't leave right now. Can you cover for me? I'll authorize whatever they need. If anything goes wrong, that's on me."
The pain was so bad I almost laughed.
Almost.
Then I did laugh.
And then I was crying.
Both at the same time, which probably looked insane.
The healer put me under before I could think too hard about it.
When I came out of it, the room was quiet.
Croft was there.
Sitting beside the bed, phone in both hands, completely checked out.
He didn't notice I was awake.
I watched him for a second.
His jaw was loose. Eyes half-lidded. Breathing a little too slow and deliberate—the kind of breathing someone does when they're trying to hold themselves together.
He tugged at the collar of his shirt.
Swallowed hard.
I shifted, and the movement pulled at my stitches.
I made a sound.
He blinked. Looked up. Tucked his phone away fast.
"Hey—you're up. Do you want water? I'll get you water."
His screen was still lit when he set it face-up on the chair.
I didn't mean to look.
I just did.
It was a photo.
Zinnia—but not the short-haired, oversized-shirt version of her I'd always seen around the pack.
She had a wig on. Red. Long. And she was bent over some surface in a tiny costume, back arched, looking back over her shoulder at the camera.
[Baby, is this better than last time? Tell me you're losing your mind right now.]
Croft's reply:
[Fuck. Yeah. You're killing me.]
[Beg for it and I'll send the full set.]
[Please. Please. Please.]
