The house felt colder now.
I stood in the center of our bedroom, my hands resting protectively over my belly. Seven years. Seven years of love—at least as far as I had known. But love wasn’t meant to be a question. Love wasn’t meant to feel like waiting for someone to come home, hoping you were enough.
I walked to the dresser, pulling out a sheet of parchment. My fingers trembled slightly as I dipped the pen into ink. I wasn’t going to scream. I wasn’t going to beg. I was simply going to tell the truth.
Dorian,
Thank you for seven years of love—at least, what I believed was love. Maybe it was, once. Maybe it never was. But it’s obvious now that Beatrice has always been the one you truly wanted.
I won’t stand in your way any longer.
The deed to the property you bought me is in the top drawer. A gift, I suppose, in exchange for the life we built together. Keep it. I don’t need it.
By the time you read this, I’ll be gone.
I sealed the letter and placed it carefully inside the drawer, my wedding ring resting on top of the folded parchment. A final token of what once was.
The phone in my pocket buzzed.
Beatrice: Hope the birth goes smoothly. I’ll be keeping him warm while you’re gone.
I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. She wanted me to react. She wanted me to fight her for him.
She had no idea she had already won.
---
The midwife’s cottage was quiet when I arrived, the soft flicker of candlelight illuminating the small room. The scent of dried herbs filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil in my chest.
"You’re early," the midwife noted, her eyes scanning my face. She saw it then—the resignation, the quiet determination.
"My sons are coming tonight," I told her. "And once they’re here, I need your help to leave."
The older woman’s brows furrowed, but she nodded. "You’re certain?"
"As certain as I’ve ever been."
She sighed. "Then we must be quick."
I pulled out my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen. A courtesy call, nothing more.
Dorian didn’t answer.
Of course, he didn’t.
The second call went to the Beta. His voice was strained when he picked up.
"Luna? What’s wrong?"
"The labor came early," I lied smoothly. "I thought he should know."
A pause. Then, "I’ll find him."
I didn’t tell him not to bother.
I already knew where he was.
---
Pain came in waves, sharp and relentless. The midwife’s voice guided me through it, her hands steady as she worked.
Hours passed. Then, a cry.
Then another.
Two sons. My sons.
I exhaled shakily, tears slipping down my cheeks as the midwife placed them in my arms. They were perfect—tiny fingers, soft tufts of dark hair, the warmth of their little bodies melting into mine.
For a moment, I allowed myself to feel it. The overwhelming love, the fierce protectiveness, the unshakable truth that they were mine.
And then the door burst open.
Dorian.
He was breathless, his golden eyes wide as he took in the sight before him. "They’re here?" He rushed to my side, his smile radiant. "Gods, they’re perfect."
I forced my own smile, though my heart remained distant. "They are."
He kissed my forehead. "I knew you’d be strong enough to do this. I knew—"
I placed a hand on his chest, stopping him. "You should rest, Dorian. I’ll be staying here for a few days to recover."
His brows furrowed. "But the house—"
"I need time to heal," I said firmly. "And…I have something for you. A gift."
Curiosity flickered across his face.
"I left it for you in our room," I told him. "But don’t open it until I return."
He nodded slowly, pressing a final kiss to my forehead. "I love you, Luna."
I said nothing.
---
Beatrice came later.
She stood at the foot of my bed, her lips curved into something that was meant to be a smile.
"Congratulations," she said, her voice dripping with false warmth.
The midwife, who had been silent in the corner, suddenly straightened.
"Enough," she snapped. "The Luna and her sons need rest. Get out."
Beatrice’s eyes flashed with annoyance, but she obeyed.
As soon as the door shut behind her, the midwife turned back to me, her expression shifting. "We don’t have much time."
I nodded. "Let’s do it."
---
The witch’s chamber was dark, the scent of burning sage thick in the air.
The moment I stepped inside, she reached for my wrist. The mark of the pack—the bond that tied me to Dorian—glowed faintly beneath her fingers.
"This will hurt," she warned.
I didn’t care.
Flames erupted along my skin, burning away the mark that had once tethered me to him. I bit back a cry, clutching my sons tighter as the magic seared through me.
Then it was done.
The witch pressed a vial into my hands. "A potion to fade the mate bond. It won’t break it completely, but it will weaken it enough that you won’t feel his emotions anymore."
I drank it without hesitation.
Another vial was handed to me—this one for my sons. "A protection charm. It will keep them hidden from the pack’s magic."
I pressed a kiss to their foreheads before letting a single drop touch their tiny lips.
It was time.
---
The car was waiting outside. James, the midwife’s husband, stood by the open door, his expression grim. "Are you ready?"
I exhaled, looking down at my sons. Their small fingers curled around mine, their breathing soft and steady.
I had never been more ready.
As the car sped away, leaving the pack’s territory behind, I pulled out my phone one final time.
I typed a message, letting the words sink in before pressing send.
Beatrice: Congratulations. You’ve won yourself an Alpha.
Then, with a flick of my wrist, I tossed the phone out the window.
No more messages. No more ties.
I was gone.
And I was never coming back.
