After Sabrina settled into the packhouse, Lucian might as well have tied himself to her by the wrist. Wherever she went, he followed, his scent intertwined with hers so strongly it made my wolf recoil.
And me?
I’d cut the last thread of expectation the moment I finally saw them for who they were.
One late evening, when thirst pushed me downstairs for a glass of water, a soft murmur drifted from the slightly open door of the guest chamber—Sabrina’s temporary room, the one Lucian insisted she needed to “rest properly for the pup.”
“Lucian…” she purred, voice dripping sweetness, “I heard that Saint Christopher medal from your family line works miracles for easing fatigue. The little one has been restless all night… Would you mind letting me borrow it for a while?”
The medal was no simple trinket.
Among wolf packs, the Blackwood line guarded it fiercely. Passed from Luna to Luna, it marked the rightful mate of the Alpha—an emblem given only to the woman recognized as Mrs. Blackwood. Lucian had placed it around my neck himself beneath the moonlit vows. He promised it would stay with me forever.
Forever, he’d said.
Because, according to him, there would never be another Luna beside me.
The memory unraveled when I heard his reply.
Through the narrow gap in the doorway, I watched Lucian press a gentle kiss against her cheek, offering a soft smile that used to be mine.
“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll ask Vivienne. You can wear it as long as you need—at least until your pup arrives.”
A knife-sharp ache shot straight through my heart.
I couldn’t even recall his exact words from our mating ceremony anymore… but what did it matter? He clearly didn’t remember his own vows either.
I stepped backward, but the wooden floor betrayed me with a faint creak. In an instant, Lucian opened the door. The moment he saw me standing there, his expression faltered—surprise, followed by something that looked dangerously like guilt. He stepped out quickly, pulling the door shut behind him, guiding me toward a private corner of the hallway.
“Vivienne,” he said quietly, “you must’ve heard that, didn’t you?”
I kept my lips sealed.
He hesitated, then exhaled. “Sabrina’s been losing sleep. Could you lend her the medal for a while? Just until she feels better?”
I nodded slowly—right as a sharp pain coiled through my side. I gritted my teeth and pushed through it.
“I’ll give it to her,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could. “But I want one thing in return.”
Lucian brightened instantly, as if I had just thrown him a lifeline. He stepped closer, about to wrap me in a relieved embrace, but I shifted back before he could touch me.
Sabrina’s scent clung to him—thick and nauseating.
“I’m glad you’re being reasonable,” he said with a soft smile. “Once her pup is born, I’ll return it to you. Don’t worry—your place beside me isn’t changing.”
So he did remember the symbolism of the medal.
“I don’t care if she never returns it,” I replied quietly. “I just need you to sign something.”
Then I turned and headed upstairs.
A minute later, I descended with a set of papers—already opened to the signature page.
Divorce papers.
“There’s no need to get emotional,” Lucian murmured, as if coaxing a child. “Sabrina won’t keep it forever. I already told you—I’ll give it back once she’s delivered.”
He signed without even scanning the document.
When my fingers closed around the papers, a hollow calm flooded through me. I hadn’t expected it to be this effortless.
Lucian offered me a gentle smile, completely misunderstanding everything. “I know I haven’t treated you well lately. Go on—buy whatever makes you feel better. Put it on my tab.”
Ah.
So that was it.
He thought this was part of another petty argument. That I was angling for money, or gifts, or some emotional leverage.
I unclasped the medal, the familiar weight vanishing from my throat, and placed it in his palm with an empty expression.
For a moment, he froze. His fingers tightened around the necklace like he wasn’t sure he deserved to hold it—but eventually, he kept it.
“Don’t worry,” he repeated softly, almost like he needed the reassurance himself. “Once her pup comes, it’ll be back where it belongs.”
But his words didn’t touch me anymore.
“She’s welcome to keep it as long as she pleases,” I said, voice flat.
Overwhelmed by something he mistook for gratitude, Lucian suddenly pulled me into a hug. I shoved him off immediately, disgust curling in my gut—but he didn’t seem to care. Without another look at me, he walked straight back into Sabrina’s room.
A heartbeat later, her delighted squeal filled the hallway.
I stood there, staring blankly at the moonlit window.
Tomorrow, I would leave this place.
And for the first time in months…
…I wouldn’t look back.
