Life with Warren hadn't been terrible. If it had, I wouldn't have stayed for seventeen years. It wasn't a fairy tale either. Just steady, familiar, and full of routines that blurred into comfort.

In our world, there are two kinds of bonds: fated and chosen. Fated mates are the Goddess's decree. A thread you're born with that leads you straight to the other half of your soul. Chosen mates, though... that's when you take your own thread and tie it where you want.

Warren and I were chosen. We'd made our vows knowing the risks. That if either of us ever found our true fated mate, we'd talk first. We'd back out of the bond the right way, no betrayal, no chaos. Clean. Fair.

That was the deal that made it all work. Our love wasn't naïve; it was deliberate. We both understood the rules. Or at least, I thought we did.

I picked up the t-shirt I usually slept in and balled it up carelessly, pausing when my fingers brushed the faded logo: Starfall Union High — Home of the Comets. Back when we were all just kids with scraped knees and wild ideas about forever.

Warren, his siblings Jacob and Theresa, Sammy, Elle, and me. The Squad. Always together, always laughing. Back then we used to joke that the goddess would tie us all together someday. Turns out, she kind of did. Jacob and Elle. Theresa and Sammy. And Warren and me?

Close. Just not close enough.

When Warren took over the pack at twenty, I stepped into the Luna role before I had any real idea of what I wanted my life to look like. Someone had to, and he said he'd rather trust me than a stranger. That our love could make up for any shortcomings while we grew into our roles. Honestly, it worked decently enough.

Get married. We'll be chosen mates. It'll be fine. Our love is enough to move mountains.

I threw a bottle of lotion into my suitcase a little too hard. "Sure, fine, until your goddess decides to upgrade you mid-conference," I muttered.

I flung another shirt in for good measure. "Yes, we agreed if one of us found our true mate, we'd let the other go. But maybe not in public, Warren. Maybe not while half undressed."

A soft knock came at the suite door.

"Go away," I said blandly, yanking my dresses off the hangers and rolling them into a ball.

"Al, it's Sammy."

"Then go away politely."

There was a soft sigh. "Come on, Al. Don't be like that, I just want to help."

"What's there to help with?" I asked after a moment of silence where I just shook my head. "I'm already using everything in my being to not thrash his shit, you really want to come in and 'help'?"

"If it helps, I know how to undo seams in pants so they fall apart..." he said temptingly. After a beat, he added, "plus I brought beer."

That earned him the smallest crack in my armor. I opened the door. "You're a bad influence."

Sammy stood there, tie askew, eyes soft with the kind of sympathy I hated. "Yea well, sometimes you need a bad influence in your life to feel a little better in a crappy situation."

"Does Theresa know you're here?" I asked, taking a cold glass bottle from the carrying case and offering it to Sammy.

"Who do you think suggested I buy you that particular brand?" He grinned in reply, accepting the bottle and opening the top with his wedding ring before handing it back.

I sat heavily on the bed and sighed, staring down at the bubbles in the beer bottle. "Why did it have to be now? Tonight is the ball and now..."

"And now you're the little mermaid watching her prince walk off with his princess."

"Yeah. Except the mermaid's hungover on heartbreak and has to smile through the gala."

He cracked open another bottle and sat down on the floor in front of me. "I mean, now you can do pretty much anything you want, though. I know you wanted to do a lot with Warren but, let's face it, he's a stick in the mud for changes. You were always the fluid one."