The day I died, we were driving home from the Alpha gathering, where Klaus represented Snowfall Pack because his father was too busy. He was tense, distant-more so than usual. Then his phone rang.
Claudette.
She was drunk, alone, and called him to come to her. I saw the way his entire demeanor shifted, how his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. I knew what was coming.
"Don't answer it, Klaus," I had begged him. "Please, not tonight. We need to talk."
But he didn't listen. We argued. And in a moment of anger, he stopped the car and kicked me out, leaving me on the side of the road. He didn't look back.
I didn't know rogue wolves were lurking in the woods. But even if I had, what difference would it have made? Klaus didn't care. Not enough.
Now, as my soul pressed against the window of Claudette's house, I watched them. He held her close, torn between the engagement ring on his finger and the woman lying in his arms.
"Klaus, you're disgusting," I thought, my voice bitter as the darkness closed in around me.