Page 2 of Betrayed By the Wolf

Vera shook her head vehemently. “No, thank you. I’m out of that world, and I don’t know if I ever want to go back.”

“That’s so crazy to me. It seemed like you really loved your job. You seemed really passionate about it,” Evelyn said, but she kept scrolling.

“Maybe it’s better to not mix work and passion. Or anything and passion. Actually, I’d like to leave passion out of the equation entirely.”

It was the root of all her troubles. She’d gotten too invested in work, in Rami, in Moira’s wellbeing, and look where it had gotten her. Burned on all sides.

“Well, I sent you a link to the site so you can check it out yourself. I’ve got to get ready for class.” Evelyn closed the site and Vera’s phone vibrated with a notification, the promised link.

She waited for Evelyn to finish in the shower, flicking through the job listings with half-hearted interest. It was impossible to find something to do when she had no idea what shewantedto do, when she didn’t know who she was anymore. Moira didn’t need her. Rami didn’t want her. She’d left the job she’d thought was her calling.

The couch with its rumpled blankets and pillow was calling to her. Maybe Evelyn was right and she should just spendthe days in bed.No,she snapped at herself;that is too pathetic even for me.

After Evelyn headed off to school, Vera forced herself through the motions of getting ready. The longer she stayed in her pajamas, the louder the siren call of the couch became. She washed her hair and styled it into her signature sleek bob, then dressed in jeans and a flannel button-down, then grabbed her bag, and headed out.

Silversand was not as polished as Rosewood. The coastal town had more of a rough edge to it, from the bite of the salty air to the ramshackle houses dotting the street. It suited this new stage of her life better than the pristine Rosewood had. And maybe it had something to do with Moira living there now. Maybe.

Moira was the Luna of the Silversand pack now and had left the Rosewoods, and Vera, behind to step into her new role. Vera had decided to stay with the Rosewoods, chafing at the thought of being under her little sister’s command, but the physical distance between them had worried at Vera, like a tick burrowing into her skin.

At first, she’d tried to ignore it. After all, Moira hadwanted more independence. She had believed herself capable of living her life without Vera’s input. And that was fine. If she didn’t need Vera anymore, then it wasn’t like Vera was going to beg for a spot in her life. She had a new mate, a new pack, and a thriving business, shedding her old life like snakeskin. Vera just hadn’t realized she’d be part of the husk Moira left.

It wasn’t really fair; a part of Vera spoke up in protest. Moira had done her best to stay close to Vera, inviting her over often to play with the baby or just for dinner, and it had beenVera that had refused invitations, that had worked to put space between them.

Maybe her pride prevented her from accepting Moira’s pity invites. Maybe she was just desperate to prove that Moira did still need her. So what did it say about her that she’d moved closer and hadn’t even told Moira yet?

Her thoughts were a spiral that dragged her down, lower and lower. She tried to push them aside, focusing on learning her way around her new town. The best way would be in wolf form, the feral side of her beckoned, where she could scent the trails of everyone passing through as easily as reading routes on a map.

But her feral side longed for something else, too.

Rami.

It was the added danger of being in Silversand where Rami lived and worked, where he belonged to Moira’s pack. At any moment, she could run into him, and she didn’t know what she wanted to do more, yell at him, or beg him to give them another chance. Everything had been going well right up until the point where he’d dumped her.

She realized with a start that she was walking toward his bookshop. No matter how hard she tried to avoid it, she was drawn there over and over again, like picking a scab so it would never scar over. Deliberately, she turned the other way.

The town of Silversand was wrapped in coastline, encasing it entirely on its north, west, and southern sides, meaning that almost any direction she walked would lead to the beach. When she stepped out onto the cool, grey sand the town was named for, she slipped off her shoes and let her feet sink into the soft grains. It was so cold that it made them ache, sharp bursts of pain that faded to numbness.

Up ahead, she spotted the Silversand lighthouse, a beacon at the western most part of the town and the place Moira called home. A brilliant white light burned steadily at the top, guiding ships safely home. She watched a dainty sailboat dart along the shore, skirting the coast, its captain harnessing the tempestuous wind that filled the sail.

Her feet had brought her closer to the lighthouse while she watched the ship’s journey until suddenly, she was standing in its shadow. A burst of childish laughter rose inside, and the front door opened. Moira froze, a hand reflexively reaching forward to stop her daughter’s toddling steps.

“Vera?” Moira cupped her hands over her brow, Cora clinging to her leg. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

Vera crossed her arms over her chest, the wind whipping her hair into chaotic strands. “I didn’t know either. Hey there, Cora. It’s me, Aunt Vera.”

Some aunt she’d been. But the little girl seemed to hold no grudges, reaching her arms out for Vera, her blue eyes wide and sparkling. Vera scooped her up and settled her into her arms, closing her eyes as she hugged the child.

“Well, you might as well come in,” Moira said, opening the door wider and gesturing for Vera to step inside. “Jonah is out, but I just baked up some scones.”

It was, Vera knew, Moira’s way of handling any awkward situation. Ply it with sugar. It was also a peace offering, one that Vera accepted eagerly.

“I’d love one,” she said, carrying Cora inside.

The lighthouse was freshly redone and bore all the hallmarks of a home, from the chipped mugs beside the sink to the fire crackling cheerfully in the wood stove. Cora wiggled,reaching for her collection of toys spread out on a blanket on the floor. Vera set her down, watching her take unsteady but confident steps toward the treasure trove.

Moira plated two scones and filled the kettle, glancing over to where Cora had settled in with a set of stacking blocks. Vera couldn’t pull her eyes away from her niece. That earlier sensation came back to her. Had she missed her chance at motherhood without ever realizing she’d wanted it?

“You look awful,” Moira said bluntly, sliding the plate over. “What’s going on? You stopped returning my calls and texts, which I get. You’re upset I left the Rosewoods, but I’m still your sister, Vera. What are you trying to do, punish me, or cut me out of your life?”

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