Izara's POV
“Mommy, is Daddy coming?”
Kallias’s soft voice plays on repeat in my mind, each word cutting into me like a blade. I can still see his pale face, those wide, hopeful eyes that clung to every promise his father never kept. He was curled up on the couch, hugging his favorite dolphin plushie like it could keep the world together.
I choke back a sob, my throat tightening as the memory guts me. Mavros promised—he swore—he’d be there. Said we’d spend the Moon Goddess Festival as a family. But, like every other promise he made, it was just a lie wrapped in silence.
I called him that night, desperate, begging, praying he’d answer. Every ring that went unanswered was like a knife twisting deeper. His men claimed they didn’t know where he was. My wolf howled, my chest burned, but it didn’t matter. Silence. Always silent.
And Kallias…he waited. He waited until his tiny body couldn’t hold on anymore. He died clutching that stupid dolphin plushie, still hoping his father would walk through the door. Mavros never came.
Now, here I am, kneeling at my son’s grave with that same plushie clutched against my chest, like it’s the last piece of him I have. Tears stream down my face as I whisper, “I’ll keep my promise to you, baby. I swear.” My voice cracks, barely audible over the weight of my grief.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, snapping me out of my spiral. It’s Monica Severinus—my best friend and Evander’s sister. She’s sent me a picture.
And there he is. Alpha Mavros Avalon. My mate. Kallias’s father. The man who couldn’t be bothered to show up for his dying son. He’s at the festival. With her.
Vivian. My sister.
He chose her. Again.
The photo burns into my mind, igniting something in me that burns hotter than grief—fury. My hands tremble as I shove my phone back into my pocket. Without thinking, I storm upstairs, grabbing clothes and shoving them into a suitcase. The faint scent of him still lingers in the room, mocking me.
This house, this life—it’s all a lie. I yank open drawers, throwing anything and everything into the suitcase. My hands don’t stop until it’s full, and then I drag it down the stairs.
I freeze at the sound of laughter. Their laughter.
There he is, standing in the doorway. Mavros. And Vivian is clinging to his arm like she’s already won. Her smile is smug, radiant in that way only betrayal can be.
His eyes land on the suitcase, and his brow furrows. “What’s this, Izara? Another one of your tantrums? Feeling sorry for yourself because I didn’t show up for your son?”
Your son. Never our son.
Before I can even process the rage boiling in my veins, Vivian speaks, her voice oozing with fake concern. “Oh, Izzy, don’t be upset. I asked him to stay with me. I wasn’t feeling well, and, well, Mavros was just being the thoughtful man he is.”
That smile. That triumphant, venomous smile.
Memories hit me like a truck. I was sick once too—pregnant with Kallias, barely holding on. I called Mavros, begging for help. He didn’t answer then either. When I dragged myself to his study, shaking, clutching my stomach, he didn’t even look up.
“Stop being such a ninny, Izara. You’re not dying. Leave me alone,” he’d said.
If Monica hadn’t come for me, Kallias and I wouldn’t have survived. And where was Mavros during all of that? With Vivian. Always with her.
Now he’s standing here, his expression as cold and unfeeling as ever. “If you’re bored, Izara, there’s plenty to do around the pack,” he says, like my grief and rage are some sort of inconvenience to him.
And then Vivian, swaying like a delicate flower, grabs his arm. His demeanor softens instantly, his voice dripping with tenderness I’ve never known from him. “You’re still unwell. You should rest,” he says to her, steadying her as if she’s the most precious thing in the world.
I’ve had enough.
My fists clench, and I force my voice to stay calm, though it trembles with anger. “I’m leaving for good, Alpha Mavros.”
His head snaps up, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous. It’s freedom,” I say, my voice finally steady. “Freedom from you.”
