Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

T he soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead cast a gentle glow on the polished oak desk as Rochelle slid the last stack of paperwork into place. The bank had long emptied of customers, and the stillness of the evening settled around her like a comfortable weight. Outside the windows, the early evening light was fading, leaving the sky a muted wash of purples and blues.

“Rochelle, you sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight?” Maria called from the doorway, pulling her jacket over her shoulders. “You’ve been at it all day. That stack will still be here tomorrow, you know.”

Rochelle glanced up from her desk, offering a soft smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll catch up with you next time. I need to finish this up tonight.”

Maria sighed, shaking her head. “You work too hard, you know that? Don’t stay too late. See you tomorrow.”

No, she wouldn't. Tomorrow was a full moon. Not only would the bank be closed, all of the businesses in this shifter town would close for the celebration. And Rochelle had plans to go out of town. The wolf living inside her belly waited patiently, her muzzle settled on her front paws in anticipation.

“See you,” Rochelle replied, watching as the door swung shut behind her colleague. The soft jingle of the bell above it echoed through the empty space, then faded into silence.

The bank felt different after hours—quieter, calmer. Rochelle liked it that way. She enjoyed the stillness, the peace that came with knowing everything was in its place. Her customers trusted her to keep their finances in order, to handle their paperwork and ensure their needs were met. She couldn’t bear to leave things unfinished, not when they were counting on her.

Rochelle picked up her pen again. Her fingers moved smoothly across the paper, but the stillness in her mind was fleeting. A familiar feeling washed over her, a tug of awareness that she had long since stopped trying to ignore.

Without looking, she knew he was there.

Her eyes drifted to the window, catching the faintest hint of movement outside—the shadow of someone sitting on the bench across the street. Caleb. His presence was as constant as the evening shadows. Always just out of sight. Always watching.

She never saw him fully. But she didn’t have to. His shadow was enough.

He didn’t think she noticed. He likely thought he was being discreet, protecting her from a distance. But Rochelle always knew. She had always known. His presence had been a quiet fixture in her life for so long now, it was almost like breathing—subtle, steady, but always there.

And that was the problem.

Her pen hovered over the page, the words blurring as her thoughts drifted. Caleb’s watchful gaze didn’t unsettle her; it hadn’t in years. But it was the reminder of what lay unspoken between them, the bond that hummed beneath the surface of their lives, tethering them in ways she tried desperately to ignore.

She’d made her choice, hadn’t she?

Rochelle exhaled, setting the pen down and pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. She’d rejected the bond. She’d chosen her independence, her career, her freedom. She wasn’t like the others in the pack, with their instinctual ties and unbreakable connections. She had a future she needed to carve out for herself—one that didn’t revolve around a mate. One that didn’t mean being tied to Caleb, no matter how much her heart seemed to pull her in his direction.

But still…

Her gaze lingered on the shadow at the window. The guilt always came with it. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that she had done the right thing, it was there, a persistent ache in her chest. Caleb watched over her not because he wanted to control her but because he cared. Because even after all this time, he still believed she would come around. That she would accept the bond.

A part of her wanted to. It was the wolf in her. She'd deal with her tomorrow when she left town. She'd let her beast out, let her run. That would hush the animal up… until the next full moon. Right now, the human part of her was focused on something else.

The thought of the promotion sent a ripple of excitement through her, a sharp contrast to the guilt that knotted her stomach. It was everything she’d worked for—her chance to make something of herself, to move out of the shadow of the pack and into a world where she could prove her worth on her own terms.

The door to her manager’s office opened with a soft creak, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Rochelle,” Mr. Dennings’ voice called from the office. “You got a minute?”

Rochelle blinked, quickly straightening the papers on her desk before standing and making her way to his door. The guilt was there again, sharper now. She swallowed it down as she entered the office, pushing her conflicted thoughts aside.

Mr. Dennings smiled as she approached, his hands folded on the desk. “I wanted to check in with you about the new branch. Are you still feeling good about the move?”

Her pulse quickened. The promotion. The new territory. The chance to finally prove herself. This was it—everything she’d been working toward.

“Yes,” Rochelle said, her voice steady, but a touch of hesitation slipped into her words. “I’m very excited about the opportunity.”

"It was between you and Matthew, but he didn't want to leave his mate or pull his kids out of school. Not that he's better than you," Mr. Dennings hurried to add. "It just made my choice easier."

Rochelle didn't correct him. Mr. Dennings was fairly new to the town. She'd known more about the inner workings of the bank, its customers, and, well, everything. His job should have been hers. It wasn't that he was male, it was that he was human. Humans were the wealthiest species on the planet, and hence the ones in charge of most banks.

Humans also believed in such things as dating and divorces. It wasn't the shifter way.

"I know I'll thrive in the new position."

Mr. Dennings nodded, leaning back in his chair. “It’s a big change, but you’ve earned it. I’ve no doubt you’ll handle the transition smoothly. We’ll start making arrangements for the move next week, then?”

“Next week,” she repeated, the weight of those words pressing against her chest.

The thought of leaving—the thought of moving farther from Caleb, farther from the bond she had refused—stirred something deep inside her. It felt like pulling apart threads that had been woven too tightly for too long. She wanted this. She wanted to move forward. So, why did it feel like she was leaving more behind than just the pack?

Rochelle smiled at Mr. Dennings, but the expression felt thin, fragile. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

As she stepped out of his office, she glanced once more toward the window, where the shadow still lingered. Caleb was out there, as he always was, watching, waiting. And for the first time in years, she wondered if she was truly ready to step away.