He Rejected Me, So I Married the Lycan King

POV: Chloe

The Pack House was silent. The bass from the party was a distant thrum, a heartbeat I no longer wanted to be part of.

I walked straight to the office I shared with Ethan.

On the desk lay the lifeblood of the pack. The expansion plans. The blueprints for the Moon Goddess Garden. My designs. My work.

I sat at the computer. I didn't burn the hard drive; that was amateur hour. I initiated a secure wipe of the cloud backups and reformatted the local server. Ten years of financial strategies, negotiation contacts, and legal loopholes-gone. Intellectual property of an unpaid consultant.

I walked up the stairs. I stopped at the hallway cabinet, a custom piece I'd ordered because Ethan's back hurt when he bent too low.

"Ugly thing," a voice sneered.

Ashley leaned against the Alpha Suite doorframe.

"It's cheap wood," she continued. "I'm going to have it burned. Everything here smells like... mediocrity."

"Where is Ethan?"

"Shower," she smiled, showing too many teeth. "Washing off the smell of you."

She opened the door. His shirt on the floor. My bed. My sheets.

"Enjoy them," I said. "Thread count is terrible."

I went to the guest room-my room. One suitcase. Jeans. Sketchbook. Mom's locket. I left every dress he bought me. I wouldn't wear his livery anymore.

Downstairs, a few warriors watched me leave.

"Luna Chloe?" one asked.

"Just Chloe."

I stepped onto the porch. The rain had stopped. The air smelled of asphalt and freedom.

I closed my eyes and reached into the mental space where the Pack connection lived. A hum. A hive mind.

I found the thread connecting me to Silver Creek. It was frayed, worn thin by neglect.

I grabbed it with my mind and pulled. It felt like tearing a suture out of raw skin.

Snap.

Silence. Absolute, terrifying, beautiful silence.

I was Rogue.