Allison’s POV
I closed my bedroom door quietly, clicking the latch into place.
The house had fallen into a strange lull after the chaos of the party downstairs. The scent of wolves in heat from dancing, the tang of alcohol, the faint burn of moon-blessed candles — all of it still lingered in the air, even up here.
I crossed to the corner table and dropped the heavy vinyl onto the turntable. A low scratch, then the calming hum of strings and wind instruments filled the room, drowning out what little noise still drifted up from below.
This was how I survived nights in the Hawthorn Pack. With the door locked, the music loud enough to blot out their laughter.
Now that I’d decided to go back to Plum Blossom and marry as my parents wished, I knew I’d have to resign my post here. Being Alpha Caden’s war strategist had been my bargain to remain in Hawthorn — my claws and my mind in exchange for safety.
But I couldn’t leave my wolves in disarray. Even if I was no longer staying, I wouldn’t leave a mess behind. That wasn’t my way.
So I sat at my window as dusk fell, the pack lights blinking on one by one outside, and got to work.
The stack of files was thick — patrol rosters, hunting schedules, border agreements. The kinds of things no one ever thanked you for keeping straight, but everyone noticed when they went wrong.
Hours passed before I finally removed the vinyl and stood. My back cracked when I stretched.
Downstairs was quiet now. The party had ended. The house was still.
For the first time all night, I let myself relax.
I picked up my phone and scrolled aimlessly, letting the silence settle around me. But then…
Trisha’s name popped up.
I froze instinctively. My thumb hovered for just a moment before opening her message.
“Why didn’t you like my posts?”
I blinked at it.
A minute later, another followed, “Sorry, Alli. I sent that by mistake. Please don’t be mad, okay?”
I scoffed softly. She’s too obvious.
Curiosity pricked at me anyway, and I opened her feed to see what had her so eager for my reaction.
And there it was. Several photos of her birthday party gifts, laid out to be admired by anyone with eyes.
The jewelry glimmered even through the screen — a rare crystal from the Moon Forest, rumored to glow only under a full moon. Next to it, a sleek, enchanted bow strung with moonstone beads, each one pulsing faintly with magic. A stack of furs — no doubt from Warren’s endless hours in the woods — tailored into coats soft enough to tempt even the most stoic she-wolf.
At the center of it all stood Trisha herself, her tiny frame flanked by Ryan and Warren, arms hooked through theirs as though she’d been born to belong there.
Her caption sparkled with her usual poisoned sweetness, “Yay, today I got treated like a Luna~”
I stared at the screen for a long moment.
Ah. So that’s what this was about.
Once upon a time, that might have hurt. I might have felt the claws of jealousy sink into my ribs, might have wondered what I’d done wrong to lose the place I’d thought was mine.
But not anymore.
Now?
I only felt… nothing.
Calmly, I tapped the heart. The little red symbol appeared beneath the photo — my way of saying, I’m letting go.
From now on, they could choose her. They could have her. They already had.
And I would let them.
The next morning, I walked into my office and slipped a folded resignation letter into my desk drawer. No drama. No goodbye speeches.
When I left the Alpha’s wing, my heart felt light.
Back at the house, I started packing.
I began with the boxes of memories shoved in my closet — the ones I used to take out on nights when I needed to remind myself why I stayed.
Photos of Ryan and Warren standing tall beside me as children at the border, all three of us muddy and grinning.
Pictures of us as teens winning equestrian tournaments, me still clutching the bouquet they’d given me afterward.
Trips across territories during our university breaks — me asleep on Warren’s shoulder, Ryan snapping the photo with his usual teasing grin.
There were gifts, too. Necklaces, books, old scrapbooks lovingly pieced together by their hands.
The memories were vivid — but they no longer mattered.
One by one, I carried them to the fireplace. The flames took each picture and devoured it eagerly.
The firelight glinted off the gold lettering of old cards before they blackened and curled. I didn’t flinch when the door opened behind me.
Ryan’s voice cut through the crackling fire, low and trembling.
“Alli. What the fuck are you doing?!”
I turned my head slightly, just enough to glance at them over my shoulder.
They were both there.
Ryan, his jaw tight, his fists clenching. Warren, his eyes wide with panic.
“Nothing,” I said simply. “They were getting moldy anyway. Might as well burn them.”
Warren surged forward, snatching for the photos still in my hand.
I didn’t even hesitate. I shook my hand just enough to send the stack fluttering into the fire.
The flames roared higher, leaving no chance to save anything.
“No—!”
Warren’s fingers darted for the burning edge of a photo, but the heat licked at his skin and he jerked back with a hiss, his palm already reddening.
He stared at me, his voice cracking. “Even if they were moldy, you didn’t have to burn them! These are our memories!”
I looked at him then — really looked at him — and almost laughed.
Because here I was. A living, breathing she-wolf who’d stood by them through every season, who’d bled for them, who’d loved them quietly all these years…
And they could hurt me again and again for the sake of someone like Trisha.
But now, just some old photos and charred gifts — and they were heartbroken.
How ironic.
Ryan still stood there silently, his expression tight and pained as he stared into the ashes.
I turned my gaze back to the flames. And I wondered, not without a sharp little smile…
When they found out I’d decided to go back to Plum Blossom to marry… what kind of reaction would they have then?
