Flawless 3

3: You’re Not Alone Anymore

DREW’S POV

The moment I shut the bedroom door, I felt the weight of them, their perfume, their voices, their shadows, clinging to the air like smoke. My father, his new “Luna,” and that quiet girl with her sad eyes. They were in my house now. In my sanctuary. In my fucking life.

Mika was still in my bed, lying on her back like a damn centerfold. She had her fingers between her legs, playing with her hot little pussy. She tilted her head making her blonde hair splay over my black sheets like spilled bleach. Her legs parted wider when she saw me.

“Took you long enough,” she purred. “Why don’t you come over here and finish what you started?”

I didn’t answer. I Just locked the door and walked past her to the window, pulling the curtains closed. That was enough of the outside world for today.

“They’re here,” I said.

Mika propped herself up on her elbows. “Oh.” A beat passed. “So is the new Luna pretty?”

“She’s stunning.” I didn’t lie. “But I hate her. And that nerdy daughter of hers. My mother’s body is barely cold, and he’s already playing happy husband like she never existed. Like my baby sister didn’t exist.”

I could hear Mika shift behind me, the mattress creaking under her slight weight. Her voice softened. “I’m sorry, Drew. I know this must be hard for you.”

Her warm, needy hand touched my back.

I stepped away.

“Don’t,” I warned.

She didn’t listen. Mika never did. She slid off the bed. She was still naked and still trying to get me to finish what we’d started earlier. She moved in front of me. Her fingers skimmed down my chest.

“Why won’t you ever kiss me?” she whispered, leaning up on her toes. She parted her lips waiting for something I would never give to her.

I looked down at her, at her perfect lips, her painted nails, her fake everything and I wanted to tell her my reasons.

‘Because you’re not mine.’

‘Because I’ve never kissed anyone before.’

‘Because I’m saving these lips for my mate, if I even have one.’

Instead, I grunted. “Just get the fuck outta here. I want to be alone.”

She blinked, hurt flashing in her eyes, then came the anger. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

She snatched her clothes from the floor but didn’t put them on. She Just stormed out, bare-assed, slamming the door behind her.

I dropped into the leather armchair by the fireplace and stared at the dying embers. My hands folded into fists on the armrests. Every breath I took hurt.

Six weeks.

Six goddamn weeks since I watched my mother bleed out on a hospital bed, pale and shaking, her fingers clutching mine as she whispered my name.

“Drew… be strong. For me. Please…”

And I had. I’d buried my hurt. Swallowed the pain like poison and let it rot in my chest. Because if I didn’t, I would’ve torn this place apart with my bare hands.

She wasn’t supposed to die. She was supposed to live until she was old and gray. Or at least long enough to see me shift into Alpha one day. She used to tell me stories at night, about how I’d lead the pack with honor. How I’d find my mate and build a legacy stronger than my father ever could.

But now she was dead. Because he wanted more fucking children.

She was forty-eight. Fragile. Already battling migraines and brittle bones. But Father didn’t care. He wanted another heir with his “chosen Luna,” and she gave him what he wanted, until it killed her. Her and the baby. My baby sister, Dolly.

I never even got to hold her. I never even got to see her.

The doctors said it was a hard labor. There were too many complications. The blood loss was too severe. Bullshit. It was greed that killed my mother. Father’s greed. His obsession with legacy. With power.

He wasn’t her mate. I always knew that. My mother once told me in a rare moment of truth, that her real mate had died before she was twenty. That she could never feel that bond again. But she loved my father. Even though he didn’t deserve her love.

When she was still with us, he barely looked at her.

He never touched her in public. Never kissed her. Never held her hand. He treated her like a decorative vase, something to keep around until it cracked, and then he replaced her like she never mattered.

My jaw clenched, molars grinding so hard I tasted blood.

Fuck this house. Fuck this family. Fuck everything.

I stood and my skin prickled with the heat of rising anger. My vision blurred at the edges. I needed to move. I needed to run.

‘Remus,’ I muttered.

My wolf stirred inside me, snarling, ready.

I opened the French doors to the balcony and climbed over the railing, dropping down onto the garden path with ease. I didn’t bother shifting right away. I ran barefoot through the hedges, past the gardens, through the iron gates at the far end of the property, then I rushed into the woods.

The trees swallowed me whole.

Here, in the forest, I could breathe.

I finally stripped and let the change take me.

It wasn’t painful like some say. For me, it was release. My bones snapped, fur burst from my skin, and my senses sharpened to an otherworldly edge. The world became scent and sound and vibration. I was no longer a boy full of grief, I was a beast with a reason to run.

Remus was huge, all muscle and instinct. He howled once and then took off, tearing through the underbrush. We didn’t run toward anything. We just ran.

Over roots and rocks, through creeks and fog.

The wind roared in my ears.

Images of my mother flashed in my mind, her smile, her laughter, the way she used to sing when she thought no one was listening. And then I saw her in the hospital bed, pale, empty-eyed, blood staining the sheets.

I ran harder.

When we reached the edge of the territory, I finally collapsed near an old stone ruin deep in the woods. My secret place. My sanctuary. No one came here.

I shifted back to human form. I was naked and shaking as my chest heaved.

The stars were beautiful.

I stared at them, hating how peaceful they looked.

“She deserved better,” I whispered.

A leaf crunched nearby.

My head snapped up. Remus growled low inside me.

But it was just a fox, darting across the clearing.

Still, I didn’t relax. Not fully.

My father would have already figured out I wasn’t coming to dinner. Good. Let them sit at that long, cold table and pretend they’re a family. They could leave me out of that circus.

I lay back on the grass, staring at the sky, trying to forget her face. But I never could.

My mother’s scent still lingered in the hallways. Her soft perfume in the curtains. Her laughter echoing in the music room where she used to play piano on rainy days.

And now that woman, Hilary had taken her place. Same bedroom. Same side of the bed.

Father had probably already thrown away my mother’s things. Probably decorated it with lavender-scented candles and silk sheets. Probably had this Hilary woman think she’s special because he calls her “mate.”

Mate. What a joke.

My father didn’t have a mate. He had prey.

Plus, there was that girl too. Becca.

I didn’t know what her deal was. Quiet. Bookish. Not what I expected when I heard about her. There was something about her, something off. She wasn’t just sad. She looked like she didn’t belong anywhere.

Like me.

I hated that.

I hated that I saw pieces of myself in her.

I hated that her eyes lingered too long when I came down the stairs.

I hated that I remembered the color of her dress.

I closed my eyes and let the night swallow me whole.

And somewhere deep inside, Remus whispered: ‘You’re not alone anymore.’

I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse.