Chapter 15 - Maisie

It’s late afternoon in Rosecreek, the sun hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows across the gravel path leading to the pack center. In the golden light, my town looks perfect. It’s late Spring already. I wonder where the year’s gone so fast.

I’m just finishing up my shift at the clinic, wiping down the exam table and closing out the day’s files. There’s a light breeze through the open windows, carrying the scent of pine and the hum of distant voices.

It’s been days, but even now, my heart is still pounding. It feels like it’ll never stop.

Ever since the kiss by the lake a week ago now, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Zane. The way he’d looked at me. The heat in his eyes. The way my entire world had shifted in that one moment.

But he hasn’t said a word about it since. In fact, we’ve barely seen each other.

I need to talk to him. I need to know if it meant something—I need to know why he left so suddenly, why he pushed me away. I’ve run the scene over and over in my head, trying to understand where we stand.

Today’s the day I’ll ask. No more dancing around it.

As I step outside, the warmth of the fading sun washes over me, and I spot Zane leaning against the side of the pack center, just beyond the clinic. In the sunlight, he’s as gorgeous as ever, biking jacket tight around his broad shoulders, hair perpetually windswept. Even the sharp line of his jaw is perfect. I watch it moving as he speaks quietly. He’s on the phone, his posture casual, his voice low.

I hesitate, unsure if I should approach him just yet. My steps slow, then stop entirely when I hear his voice shift. It’s lighter, more familiar.

“No, man, she’s just... not my type,” he says, laughing under his breath.

I freeze. The easy tone, the casual dismissal, makes my skin crawl.

I inch closer, my heart sinking. What if he’s talking about me?

His voice carries over the wind, clearer now. “Course I heard the album. It was catchy. Not really my style… Yeah, she’s talented, sure, but come on. No way I could have a mate like that.”

I can’t move. I can’t even think. Should I hide? What if he notices me here, eavesdropping? At least I know he’s not speaking about me. Some famous singer or artist. God knows who. God knows why I care. Why do I care so much? Why can’t I breathe?

He keeps talking, oblivious to the fact that I’m standing just feet away, listening to every word.

“Yeah, man, she’s huge. I could never be with someone like that. It just wouldn’t work.”

I press a hand to my chest, hard. There is a sharp pain in my clavicle, like I’ve been stabbed there. I hear my own heartbeat so loudly in my ears that I’m surprised it isn’t rattling the windows.

I’ve read medical accounts before of doctors and medics talking about patients purporting to experience physical symptoms of heartbreak. It’s barely science at all, and nobody in the medical community really believes it.

Now, I believe it.

I could die right here, I think. Donate my body to science to prove the physiological consequences of falling for the wrong man.

I stumble blindly backward. The wind picks up, rustling the leaves overhead, but all I hear are his words. The kiss. The connection I thought we had. All of it evaporates in an instant. I glance down at my body, suddenly hyper-aware of every curve, every imperfection, every part of myself that doesn’t match up to whatever standard Zane’s decided is acceptable. A knot of shame and anger twists in my stomach.

Zane doesn’t see me as I slip away, heading toward the back of the clinic, my vision blurred, my breath shaky. Every step feels like I’m walking through molasses. My body is heavy with betrayal.

I hate him, I realize; I hate him for what he said. For how easily he dismissed her—and me, even if he didn’t realize it. My anger is cold as ice.

But now I know better.

I won’t let myself be stupid enough to want him again.

***

When I wake, the dream still has a hold on me. The faint, half-corporeal reality of it clings to me and for a moment, I’m still drowning in the rage I felt that day, crushed beneath the force of it.

I have spent a long time trying not to think about what happened. I have now failed, it seems.

And I’m in Zane’s bed.

Stifling a small scream, I sit bolt upright, clutching his blanket to my chest. My naked chest. I’m completely naked. And the sheets smell faintly of sex, a scent I only come to recognize from yesterday, when…

I have to coach my own breathing until I can calm down.

Yesterday’s memories come back in pieces. The way Zane kissed me—so intensely, so passionately. It was like I was the only thing that mattered in the world. The way he touched me, held me… as if all the walls he’d built around himself had finally crumbled. The gentleness in his hands and his body. How he held me like he was worried he’d break me.

But now… he’s gone.

I glance around the room, my pulse quickening. His side of the bed is cold, the sheets rumpled but empty. There’s no sign of him, no trace that he even stayed the night. My chest tightens painfully, that same familiar pit of shame settling in my gut.

Tears prickle in my eyes, and I have to blink furiously until they stop. I drag the blanket tighter around myself, trying to hold onto some shred of my dignity.

I can’t believe this. After everything… after giving in, after feeling like maybe, just maybe, this time it would be different…

Suddenly, the smell of him all around me is too much. I hate that scent. I hate how much I love that scent. I pull myself out of bed, standing shakily on legs that don’t quite feel like mine. The room feels too big, too cold. I move slowly, collecting my clothes from the floor.

That conversation I heard… his cruel, offhand words about someone else’s body, someone who could never have possibly deserved it. It made me angry on her behalf at the time, but deep down, I’ve always feared he wasn’t just talking about her. He dismissed that woman’s worth so easily, as if it was unthinkable that she might be attractive, might be loveable—might be worth anything.

I was stupid to think I’d be any different.

I feel discarded, dirty, and ashamed. More than any of that, stupidly, I want him to come back. I miss the warmth of his hands. I miss how it felt to fall asleep with his arm around me.

But as I dress, pulling on my jeans and sweater with mechanical movements, another memory bubbles up. Veronica’s voice, calm and reassuring, cuts through all the self-doubt. She’d told me I was enough, that I didn’t need anyone else’s approval or validation, least of all Zane’s. She looked me dead in the eye and said I was good enough all on my own.

The words echo in my mind, steadying me, even as a fresh wave of exhaustion washes over me.

Zane has shown me over and over that I’m not a priority, that his walls are too thick, and his wounds are too deep.

I deserve more than this confusion, this constant push and pull. And if he’s going to keep walking away, leaving me to pick up the pieces alone, then I can’t keep giving him the power to hurt me.

I glance one last time at the empty bed, my chest tightening. Last night was perfect. It felt real. I trusted him with the deepest, most intimate thing I could possibly have given to him. And it seemed, for that moment in time, that he might take it seriously.

But if this is all there is—if he’s just going to disappear the moment things get complicated—then I’m done.

I square my shoulders, my resolve hardening. No more waiting. No more hoping. No more letting him tear me down, little by little.

In the living room, there is no sign of Zane. He’s not in the kitchen, not in the bathroom.

I knew he wouldn’t be. I feel numb to it now.

Then, as if to assure me of my decision, I am alerted to still more bad news. When I turn my phone back on, I see a dozen messages in the team’s group chat. The last three are from Keira, lengthy and detailed. The final few sentences sum up the rest:

New intel from north-west, fifty miles out of Stratfell. Haverwoods wreaking havoc. We think they have new contracts with a private shifter militia. Half a dozen civilians dead and more reports coming in—‘claiming territory’.

Team, this is war. Prepare to ramp up operations.

Yes, I think, my resolve settling inside me. Zane and I are over.