mine. It wasn't just a kiss. it was a claim, an unapologetic assertion of his dominance over me. My body responded against my will as I closed my eyes, electrifying sparks cou

off again. "Don't lie to me, Harlyn. I saw the whole thing. You kissed him back. And for what? To feel wanted? To pretend that he might actually care about you?" She shook her head, her expression hardening. "He doesn't care about you, Harlyn. He's made that very clear. You're only making things worse." I couldn't believe my ears. Becca was supposed to be my friend, but her words felt like they were coming from an enemy. "It's not like I wanted to kiss him," I retorted. "So, why didn't you stop him?" Becca shot back, her forehead creasing. "Why didn't you push him away? You're letting him win. Can't you see that?" My eyes glistened with another wave of unshed tears, but I quickly blinked them away. "It's not that simple," I whispered, my voice cracking. "And you know that." Becca raked her fingers down her brown hair "I do." she said, her expression softening slightly. I knew where she was coming from. She had gone through a similar fate over a year ago, handling the situation with a strength I hadn't been able to muster. But she needed to understand that I wasn't her. Becca sighed and stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I know it's hard," she hesitated, then squeezed gently. "But you have to be strong. You can't let him keep hurting you like this." The warmth of Becca's hand on my shoulder was oddly comforting. We rarely had any physical contact, but this touch reminded me that she cared, even if her words were harsh. I knew she was right, but how could I fight back against my Alpha? Before I could finish gathering my thoughts, the scent of something unfamiliar wafted through the air, sharp and prominent. It was too strong to ignore. I straightened, my senses suddenly on high alert. Becca noticed my shift and pulled her hand away, her eyes roamed the parking lot with caution and curiosity. "Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice laced with slight concern. But before I could answer, a figure stepped out from nowhere, making her way towards us. And I pondered on who the person was. Her facial features were illuminated by the light coming from the sun, highlighting her sharp cheekbones and pale skin. Her jet-black hair flowed behind her like silk as she moved with purposeful strides, like someone on a mission. Becca stiffened beside me. "W-who are you?" she asked, her voice quivering slightly. I couldn't blame her. I would have sounded the same. The lady before us was quite intimidating. The lady didn't answer immediately. Instead, she offered a small, almost invisible smile, her gaze never leaving mine. "You must be Harlyn," she said as if confirming a long-held suspicion. Her voice held the same distinct British accent as that of Ethan's that added to her uncanny presence. Although I was taken aback by the sight of another new face who for some reason knew my name, I nodded slowly, unable to tear my gaze away from her. "And you are?" "Abigail Berlette," she quipped. "I'm a friend of Ethan Starrk. Perhaps you've heard of him?" Becca's breath hitched beside me, and I knew she recognized the name. The news had spread quickly about the new pack of werewolves in Springville. "What do you want?" I asked, my voice unstea