CHAPTER 4

CLAIRE FISCHER

I SPENT THE next few days avoiding everyone in the pack, including my mother and my “   new” sister who had moved into the pack house. I heard hers and Logan's laughter every dinner, like a perfect family. While I would remain huddled in my room, too afraid and too angry to join the table. They did not want or need me. My meals were placed in front of my door like I was a caged animal.

I sighed and rolled out of bed. I was determined not to spend the day in my bed, feeling sorry over things I could not control. Good riddance, I scoffed as I went to my bathroom to wash up.

“Nothing is going to spoil my day today,” I said, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I packed my thick wavy brown hair in a loose ponytail to keep my face free. My eyes were red and blotched from excess crying, and my nose was a light shade of pink, making my freckles pop out even more.

“Bruce does not deserve this,” I muttered, trying to salvage my looks. I was not normally a glamorous or exceptionally gorgeous girl, but today, I looked even worse.

After 30 minutes, I was looking a bit like my old self. I sighed, if only I felt better too.

I decided that I was going to accept Bruce's proposal. I knew he was going to treat me well. He was a very decent person, and handsome too. And he was the best warrior in the kingdom. It was not the same as being married to the future alpha, but I believed I would grow to love Bruce.

I dressed in a soft silk gown that accentuated my shapely figure.

The pack house was silent and empty. “Good,” I muttered. I did not have the mental strength to withstand any jab my mother would throw at me if she saw me. I walked out, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun on my skin.

I made my way to the pack bar.

“Morning, Gregory,” I said to the bartender, an old man who was always kind to me.

“G’ morning,” he answered in a gruff voice.

I sighed as I slid into the stool. Like the majority of people in the pack, Gregory was now in support of my sister. ”A large mug of beer, please.” I said.

He nodded silently and poured out a drink for me. I took a small sip. Just as I was starting to relax, the door opened and a swarm of people came in, I immediately saw Bruce amongst them. A smile broke out on my face and I brushed my hand on my thighs to go and meet him, but then, I saw Logan with him.

I slowed down and hung my head. I was not ready to face Logan now, I was expecting just Bruce, so I sat back on the stool, trying to avoid being seen as they walked past me and settled on a table a few feet away from me.

Someone said something inaudible and the table erupted in laughter. Then someone else asked in a pretty loud voice, “Are you really going to marry that disabled bitch?”

I saw Bruce take a long gulp from the cup before he nodded.

“But you don’t even like her,” another person said.

Bruce scoffed and shook the hair from his beautiful face. “That does not matter, I have to do it,” he said. He put a hand around Logan's shoulder and continued, “I have to get her away from the pack or get married to her so she won't make any more trouble for my best friend.”

“So Logan knew everything all along,” Another man said.

Logan laughed and nodded.

“I could see the relief in her eyes that night when I led her out,” Bruce said. “She must have thought that I was her knight in shining armor.”

They laughed again as my cheek burned in shame.

“Did you kiss her?” someone asked.

Bruce’s mouth downturned in disgust. “She wanted to. Her body melted in my arms, I could have fucked her right there under the oak tree…”

“You should have,” Logan said. “Maybe she would feel better.”

“I will do that,” Bruce nodded.

Unable to hear it any longer, I stood up from my stool and stumbled out of the bar before the tears came gushing out and they noticed me.

Bruce and Logan were planning all this together. I was so stupid to have thought otherwise, after all, they were best friends. I was sure he knew all about Logan and Fiona. Another strangled gasp escaped from my throat as I burst into the house and ran up the stairs.

As soon as I was in my room, they came out freely, streaming down my cheeks as the hot, searing pain of betrayal stabbed my heart over again. I buried my head in my pillow, feeling my pillow soak up my tears.

“I can't remain here,” the thought suddenly came to my head, and before I could think of it any further, I was up and packing my things. When my bag was packed and I was about to walk out the door, I decided to write a letter. I reached for a pen and paper. My hand was poised over the paper for minutes, I did not know what to write.

“Dear Bruce,” I wrote. “Thank you for nothing.”

I dragged my bag slowly to the front door before realizing that I couldn't run away while pulling a fully packed bag like I was going on vacation. I dropped the letter on the dining table and took out the essential things from my bag before I slipped out of the house and into the woods behind.