The window turns gray, and I'm still sitting on the cot where he left me.
My shirt is buttoned wrong. My mouth still tastes like him.
*He wanted us,* my wolf whispers. *He did.*
I wash my face in the shop sink until the water runs cold.
The glass behind me shows a woman who got used and set back down.
The hoping was mine. That's the part I can't hand to him.
The pack house lights are on, and I can hear chairs scraping inside.
I could turn around and hide in the office like a coward.
But I've eaten at that table since I was a kid, and I won't hide from him.
The hall smells like bacon and coffee and wet leather.
Ryland sits at the head of the table in his cut, like he slept in it.
He doesn't look up when I walk in. Not once.
I drop into the seat across from Fintan, and my brother knocks his shoulder into mine.
Fintan: You look like hell warmed over.
Maela: Thanks. Love you too.
Ryland sets his cup down, and the whole table goes quiet the way it always does.
Ryland: Garage accounts are done. Maela's on them now.
He says it like he's reading out a work order.
Ryland: She's Fintan's sister. She gets a bed and a job like the rest of you.
Ryland: Nobody read anything else into it.
A rider down the bench mutters leftovers, and the whole table laughs.
Briony sets her fork down hard and looks right at him.
Briony: That's a shit way to talk about your own pack, Ry.
Ryland: She's not my pack. She's Fintan's.
Not my pack. After last night. After all of it.
My wolf goes so still in my chest that I can hear my own blood.
*He's putting us outside the fence,* she says. *Fine. We know how to live out there.*
I stand up. My chair scrapes loud enough that every head turns.
Maela: Ryland. Outside. Now.
My voice comes out flat and steady. I don't know how.
His hand closes around my arm above the elbow, hard enough that I feel the bone.
Ryland: Sit down and finish your breakfast.
He doesn't raise his voice. He never has to.
I look at his fingers on my arm until he lets go.
Maela: You could have said no last night.
Ryland: I did. You just weren't listening.
I walk out with my plate still full and the whole table watching me go.
Fintan calls my name. I don't turn around.
Back in the office, I drag my bag out from under the cot and open it wide.
There isn't much. I came back to Mossgate with less than this.
I fold my shirts and don't think about the desk. I don't look at it once.
My hands shake so bad I have to do the zipper twice.
*Where do we go?* my wolf asks.
Anywhere he isn't. That's the whole plan.
It's not a good plan. I've lived through worse ones.
I set the bag by the door so I can't pretend I'm staying.
He can keep his bed and board. He can keep his cold table.
*Let him come back to an empty office,* my wolf says. *Let him feel it.*