Alpha Cole strode into the healer’s tent, breath uneven, a sheen of anxious sweat still clinging to his face.
“You came?” I asked coolly, my tone flat.
The messenger beside him started to explain, but before he could utter a word, Diana appeared from behind him—draped in the silver ceremonial robe she had worn to the Moon Banquet. Her smile was cold, gleaming like the blade of a dagger.
“Eliza, isn’t this a bit dramatic for a little wound?” she drawled. “You grew up on the border—when did you become so delicate?”
Alpha Cole frowned but didn’t rebuke her. Instead, he walked to my bedside. His eyes rested on my pale face, and his voice softened slightly. “When did you become so stubborn? You should’ve told me if you were unwell.”
My fingers curled beneath the fur blanket. Watching his composed, reasonable expression, I almost laughed.
Tell him?
Hadn’t he been with Diana these past few days?
Hadn’t he ordered my fasting—his version of “discipline”?
What kind of Alpha was that? What kind of love was left to expect?
Quietly, I said, “You’re busy. I don’t want to bother you.”
For a fleeting moment, something flickered in his eyes—guilt, perhaps. Maybe that was why, over the next few days, he came to the healer’s tent every day to “check on me.”
But I knew better. It wasn’t love. It was pity.
When the day came for me to leave the camp, I packed in silence.
The communication stone pulsed faintly in my hand—I was sending my last message to Reid, confirming the time of my departure.
“Eliza, who are you contacting?” Alpha Cole reached for my stone.
I smiled coldly, pulling it back. “Do you really need to read a woman’s private messages?”
He froze, then said nothing.
“Enough with that thing. I’ll take you back to the main keep.”
“Alright.”
When we returned, the air in the fortress still carried the faint scent of Diana’s perfume.
I didn’t linger. I walked straight to the study.
Opening the stone vault, I carefully placed the healer’s diagnostic scroll on the top shelf.
Then I took out a black leather-bound notebook and turned to the final page.
My hand trembled slightly as I wrote:
[The hundredth disappointment: my child is gone.]
When I finished, I closed the notebook.
On the desk lay three neatly arranged scrolls—
the Dissolution of the Mate Bond,
the Resignation of the Deputy Chief,
and the Miscarriage Report.
They were my anniversary gifts to Alpha Cole.
I packed my bag, placed the keys to the keep on the dining table, and wiped my fingerprint from the rune-lock at the door.
The latch clicked softly behind me. I turned once, gazing at the place that had once echoed with laughter and warmth.
Now, it held nothing but silence and cold.
In a whisper, I said, “Goodbye.”
Lifting my pack, I stepped into the night.
Behind me, the fireworks had long since burned out only the wind remained.
