Chapter 5 For The Best
ELARA
My decision is a stone in my gut. Cold. Heavy. Final.
I move with a purpose that feels borrowed. My hands are steady as I pull a small canvas bag from the back of my closet. I do not need much. There is not much of me left to take.
A few sets of plain clothes. The small stash of emergency cash my mother insisted I keep. The silver locket feels heavy against my skin, a cold weight over my heart. I tuck it under my shirt. It is the only thing that feels real.
I leave the gifts on my desk untouched. I leave the birthday banner hanging on the wall. I leave the ghost of the girl who lived in this room.
My bare feet make no sound on the stairs. The house is quiet again. Too quiet. I reach the bottom step and a figure blocks the front door.
Liam.
He stands with his arms crossed, his body a wall of shadow and muscle. “And where do you think you’re going?”
His voice is low, a dangerous rumble. It is not the voice of my brother. It is the voice of a warrior.
“Out of the way, Liam.”
“No.”
“This doesn’t concern you.”
“Like hell it doesn’t.” He takes a step toward me, his face unreadable in the dark. “You are not running away because of that bastard.”
“I’m not running,” I say, my own voice surprisingly firm. “I’m fixing this.”
The kitchen light flicks on. My mother stands in the doorway, her robe pulled tight around her. Her face is pale, her eyes wide with a dawning horror.
“Elara? What are you doing with that bag?”
My father appears behind her, his face a mask of exhaustion and pain. The four of us stand frozen in a silent tableau of a family breaking apart.
“She thinks she’s leaving,” Liam says, his eyes never leaving mine.
My mother’s hand flies to her mouth. A small, wounded sound escapes her lips. “No. Sweetie, no. We can fight this. We will not let them do this to you.”
“You can’t fight the Alpha,” I say, the words tasting like poison. “I heard him. I heard what he said to Dad. I’m a problem. A rift.”
My father flinches, his gaze falling to the floor. That is all the confirmation I need.
“His words don’t matter,” Dad says, finally looking at me. His eyes plead with me. “This is our home. You will not be chased out of your home.”
“It stopped being my home the moment Damon opened his mouth,” I say. The pain is a sharp, physical thing, but I push it down. I cannot afford to feel it now. “My being here is hurting you. It’s putting you against your Alpha. It’s making Liam talk about treason.”
I look at my brother. “Do you think I want that? To see you punished because of me?”
“I would die for you, Elara. Gladly,” Liam says, his voice thick with emotion.
“I know,” I whisper. “That’s why I have to go. So you don’t have to.”
“Then we’ll come with you,” he insists, taking another step. “To hell with this pack. To hell with Damon. We’ll leave together.”
“No.” The word is sharper than I intend. “Your life is here. You’re a senior warrior. Dad is the Beta. This pack is your life. I will not be the one to take that from you.”
My mother is crying now, silent tears tracking paths down her cheeks. “Please, baby. Don’t do this. Don’t leave us.”
I walk toward her. I cup her wet cheek in my hand. It is the hardest thing I have ever done.
“I love you, Mom. More than anything. But I can’t stay and watch this family break because of me. I won’t do it.”
I kiss her cheek, then turn to my father. He looks a hundred years old.
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“There is nothing for you to be sorry for,” he says, his voice cracking. He pulls me into a hug, his arms a cage of desperation. “Don’t go, Elara. Whatever comes, we will face it together.”
I hug him back, burying my face in his chest for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of pine and safety. Then I pull away. “There’s nothing to face if I’m gone.”
I turn back to the door, to Liam. His face is a storm of rage and grief.
“I can’t let you go,” he says.
“You have to.” I look him right in the eye. “This is my choice. Let me have this. Let me protect you, for once.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t move. The air is thick with unspoken words, with years of love and loyalty. Then, slowly, his shoulders slump. He steps aside.
My hand is on the doorknob. My heart is shattering into a million tiny pieces.
“I love you all,” I whisper to the room. I don’t look back. I can’t. I open the door and step out into the cold night air.
Freedom feels like a death sentence. The path that cuts between the houses is dark, shrouded in shadows. I move quickly, a ghost slipping away before the sun can find me.
I just have to make it to the edge of the territory. Just to the tree line. Then I will be gone.
“A midnight stroll?”
The voice stops me dead. It is calm, arrogant, and it comes from the shadows of his own porch.
Damon.
He steps into a sliver of moonlight. He is not in his party clothes anymore. He wears simple workout shorts and a thin shirt. He leans against a porch column, his arms crossed. He looks like he has been waiting for me.
“Goodbye, Damon,” I say, my voice flat. I have no more tears to cry, no more pleas to make.
He pushes off the column and walks toward me. He stops a few feet away, his head tilted in a look of mild curiosity. “You’re actually leaving? Bag and everything. A little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“You don’t get to talk to me.”
“Seems like I just did.” He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “I have to admit, I’m surprised. I didn’t take you for a runner.”
Every word is a deliberate twist of the knife. I stare at him, at the face I have known my entire life. The face of my fated mate. He is a stranger to me.
“You know,” he says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “It’s probably for the best.”
I flinch. The words hang in the cold air between us. For the best.
“This whole situation… it’s messy,” he continues with a casual shrug. “My dad and yours. Your brother looking at me like he wants to rip my head off. You leaving cleans it up nicely. A clean break for everyone.”
I watch him, waiting for a flicker of remorse. A hint of pain. Anything to show that the boy I grew up with is still in there somewhere. There is nothing. Only the cold calculation of a future Alpha tidying up a problem.
He did not just break me. He is sweeping up the pieces.
“I did what I had to do for the pack,” he says, his expression hardening, as if justifying it to himself. “You’re just doing the same. It’s logical.”
A cold, hard rage finally breaks through my grief. It is a welcome fire in the frozen landscape of my heart.
“You have no idea what I’m doing,” I say, my voice low and shaking with the force of it. “You know nothing about duty. Or logic. Or what is best for anyone.”
For the first time, a flicker of surprise crosses his face. He is not used to me speaking to him this way.
I don’t give him a chance to respond. I turn my back on him. On my mate. On the smoldering ruins of my entire life.
I walk toward the woods. I do not run. I walk with my head held high, my spine straight. Each step is a choice. Each step takes me further away from the boy who called me a liability and the pack that believed him.
He says nothing else. He just lets me go.
And as I step into the deep, welcoming darkness of the forest, the final, fragile thread of my old life snaps. I do not look back.