A bitter, cracked laugh tore from my throat.
“So this is how lowly you see me, Alpha Draven,” I whispered, voice scraping like gravel.
“In your eyes… I’m truly nothing more than that kind of she-wolf.”
Tears finally spilled, dripping onto the moonstone tiles beneath my feet.
Something flickered across Draven’s expression—a faint crease of confusion, a hint of sensing my inner turmoil through the weakened bond—but before he could speak, Myrielle’s melodic voice sliced in.
“Draven,” she cooed, threading her arm through his. “Everyone’s gathered. Why don’t we head to the training grounds? It’s my name-day. We should do something spirited.”
The guests chimed in instantly.
“Yes! A run with the spirit-steeds sounds perfect!”
“Let’s go!”
Whatever Draven had been about to say vanished.
“Fine,” he said curtly. Then he glanced at me. “Change into something proper. Let’s put what happened earlier behind us.”
I didn’t respond. I pulled away from his hand, turned my back and changed into the garments his attendant delivered.
When he saw his palm left hanging in the air, a flash of confusion crossed his face—like he’d just realized something precious had slipped from his grasp.
The spirit-steed grounds spread wide under the hot afternoon sun, smelling of dust and enchanted leather. Moonbred stallions raced across the field, their hooves thundering against the earth.
Myrielle had changed into a pale riding set embroidered with lunar sigils, the sunlight making her glow with deliberate radiance. Draven stood by her side, adjusting her gloves, tightening the saddle’s arcane straps—every motion gentle, practiced, intimate.
She turned suddenly, feigning surprise when her gaze fell upon me.
“Oh, you’re here too, Lunessa,” she said sweetly. “You were raised in the outer territories, weren’t you? Ever ridden a spirit-steed before?”
I froze a second, then shook my head. “No.”
That single word sent her friends into laughter.
“Of course she hasn’t! Probably spent her days mucking dens and chasing goats!”
“Careful—she might still smell like a barnyard omega!”
They pinched their noses, wrinkling them in mock disgust.
The laughter stabbed through me like shards of ice.
My fists clenched until my nails nearly pierced my palms, lips tightening into a pale line.
Draven stood nearby… but said nothing. He only frowned faintly before lowering his head again to fasten the last strap on Myrielle’s boot—tender, precise, protective.
I stood behind them, silently begging the moons for the moment to end.
A sudden, violent neigh split the air.
A massive stallion broke free—wild, frenzied, lunatic with moon-energy—charging straight toward the crowd. Its hooves shook the ground like rolling thunder.
“Move!” someone shouted.
Chaos erupted instantly.
My breath hitched—the beast was barreling toward us. Toward me, Draven and Myrielle.
For a heartbeat, Draven’s gaze locked on mine.
Hesitation. Conflict. A flicker of something—fear? Or guilt?
Then he moved. He shoved me aside—hard.
Pain ripped through my shoulder as I hit the ground, my half-healed wounds tearing open along the wolf-marked scars.
Through blurred vision, I saw him lunge—not toward me—but toward Myrielle. He wrapped her in his arms, shielding her as they rolled across the grass.
The stallion thundered past them, its hooves missing by inches.
Screams spread across the field as panic swallowed everything.
I lay curled near the fence, blood seeping through my torn garments, fingers trembling. No one came. No one looked.
When I finally lifted my head, Draven was cradling Myrielle, panic etched into his face, calling her name with a rawness I had never heard directed at me.
Moments later, he swept her into his arms and ran toward the pack convoy, shouting orders. Within seconds, they were gone.
And I was left behind—alone in the dirt.
No one noticed my fall. No one saw the blood. No one cared.
I stared at the burning sky, an eerie calm spreading through my chest.
So this is how it feels… when a heart finally dies.
I forced myself up, my body shaking and every breath burning with pain. With trembling fingers, I pulled out my crystal-comm and made the call.
When the call connected, Calder’s attendant answered, voice steady and respectful.
“Luna Lunessa?”
I swallowed. “Have my grandmother and father been relocated to the safehold?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Everything proceeded according to your instructions. They’re secure.”
“…Good.” My voice barely existed.
I ended the call. My eyes stung, but not a single tear fell.
Seconds later, my crystal-comm buzzed. My Wolf-law-speaker.
A photo of the severance contract—the pack’s equivalent of a divorce—appeared on the screen.
Two names carved in lunar ink.
Mine. Draven’s.
A message followed:
[It’s finalized.]
I stared for a long moment, then forwarded it to Draven’s mother. My message was only two words: Ninety-nine million.
The crystal-comm rang instantly. Her voice brimmed with satisfaction.
“Excellent. I’ll have the treasurer transfer the full sum now. Lunessa, you’ve finally made the wise choice. Take the credits—and stay far from Draven.”
I looked at the screen as the payment notification flashed. My chest felt like an empty cavern.
“Mm,” I murmured, ending the call and blocking her.
I limped toward the gates of the territory, using the wall for balance.
***
Two hours later, the roar of a skyship echoed overhead.
I leaned back in my seat, pulled up the image of the severance contract one last time, sent it to Draven—then blocked him as well.
[Draven, this is my last gift to you.]
[From this moment on— the mountains stand high, the rivers run long and even in life or death… our paths will never cross again.]
