Chapter 15 For three years, I'd been the perfect girlfriend. Never demanding, never argumentative. When he canceled dates, I said I understood. When he forgot anniversaries, I made excuses. When his friends made cruel comments about my background, I stayed silent. I'd been so grateful that someone wanted me someone powerful and handsome and seemingly devoted that I'd molded myself into whatever he needed. The tragedy was that what he'd needed was a stand-in for another woman. I sat on the bed and let myself remember the beginning. Before Camila's return. Before I knew I was just a placeholder. Three years ago… I'd been twenty-two and freshly graduated from Crawford Pack's medical school when I fled to Moonridge. Moonridge General Hospital operated under the "medical neutrality laws - they accepted doctors regardless of pack affiliation, and I'd managed to secure a residency position. The hospital served multiple packs as neutral ground. No one questioned a lone wolf seeking sanctuary in medicine. It was the perfect cover for someone trying to disappear. I'd been working a double shift in the ER when Darrell first walked in. There'd been a territorial dispute between his pack and a group of rogues. Several of his people were injured, including a young wolf who'd taken a silver blade to the chest. The moment our eyes met across the trauma bay, everything changed. The mate bond snapped into place like a lightning strike. My wolf Esme had whined with recognition, and I'd seen his pupils dilate as his own wolf acknowledged me. But I'd run. Literally turned and fled the room, leaving Dr. Martinez to handle the case while I hid in a supply closet trying to process what had just happened. I'd spent my whole life watching my parents' bond. The way Dad had fallen apart when Mom died. The devastating grief that had nearly destroyed him. I wasn't ready for that kind of vulnerability, that total dependence on another person. But Darrell hadn't given up. He'd courted me with great patience. Coffee deliveries to the hospital. Flowers left on my doorstep. "Accidental' encounters at the grocery store and coffee shop. He could have used Alpha compulsion to force my acceptance. Instead, he'd chosen gentle persistence. When I collapsed from exhaustion after a particularly brutal shift, he'd sat by my hospital bed all night. When senior doctors gave me trouble, he'd appear like an avenging angel, his mere presence enough to make them back down. Slowly, carefully, he'd won my trust. Then my affection. Finally, my love. The courting had been genuine. The early months of our relationship had been everything I'd dreamed of. He'd listened when I talked about my work, asked thoughtful questions about my patients. He'd seemed genuinely interested in my thoughts and opinions. More importantly, he'd never used his Alpha authority to override my choices. He'd made me feel respected. Valued. Cherished. I'd believed it was real. All of it. - Now I understood the truth. His patience hadn't been born of respect it had been born of recognition. I looked like Camila. I reminded him of the woman he'd lost. He'd been projecting his feelings for her onto me from the very beginning. The gentle, devoted man I'd fallen in love with had never existed. He'd been a performance. What I didn't realize then was how convenient my "orphan' status was for him. No pack to answer to. No formal ceremonies required. He never once suggested I formally join his pack, always claiming we'd "handle the paperwork later" when the time was right. He'd never intended for this to be permanent. In a way, it was better this way. When I left this pack, I'd formally reject him. Clean break, no messy pack politics to navigate. I stepped out of the shower and reached for the plush hotel towel. Steam clouded the bathroom mirror as I dried off, then slipped into the cotton robe. The blow dryer hummed as I worked it through my damp hair. My phone buzzed on the marble countertop, vibrating against the expensive toiletries scattered there. Caelan's name on the screen made me pause mid-stroke. "Still awake?" I set down the blow dryer and typed back quickly: "Just got out of the shower. Hair's still wet. Shouldn't a certain Lycan King be busier than this?" My phone buzzed again within seconds. "Just finished some border dispute paperwork. Can I call you? I'd like to hear your voice." My reflection froze in the vanity mirror. Heat crept up my neck as I read the last sentence again. He wanted to hear my voice. Esme stirred lazily in my consciousness. "Our King wants to talk to us." He's not "our" anything yet. "He will be." Her smugness was almost tangible. "And he already cares more about us than that pathetic excuse for an Alpha ever did." My heart did something stupid in my chest. I typed and deleted three different responses before settling on: "Okay." The phone rang within seconds. I took a deep breath and answered. "Hello?" "Sabi." His voice was deeper than I remembered, roughened by years of command. "Hi, I managed, my voice smaller than intended. A brief silence settled between us. I could hear his breathing - steady, patient. "You sound nervous. There was amusement in his tone. "Is it because of me?" Heat flooded my cheeks. 'I'm not nervous. Just… it's been a while since we talked." "Too long. The simple admission made something flutter in my stomach. "I contacted Elena Milano today. She designed a series of engagement dresses for you to choose." I blinked. "A series? How many weddings are we having?" His laugh was rich and low. The sound sent unexpected warmth through my chest. "Just one. But I want it to be perfect." I stepped out the bathroom and curled into the corner of the sofa, tucking my feet under me. "What about color? Don't all men prefer white?" "White is traditional." He paused, considering. "But you'd look beautiful in champagne. It would bring out the gold flecks in your amber eyes." My toes curled involuntarily. "Wow, Caelan. Your memory's pretty good for someone who's thirty-four." 2/3