IVY'S POV
I slipped out of the underground medical bay with Ronan's dark tactical jacket folded over my arm before the morning maintenance crews unlocked the main concourse gates.
Every muscle in my body throbbed with a heavy ache. My collarbone still burned from the heat of Ronan Blackwood's mouth, but my mind was completely clear.
I didn't regret walking away from Jace. After hearing him trade me to the northern coalition like a surplus asset, whatever love I had carried for him over the past three years had turned to ash.
Still, I refused to let things end in cowardice. I owed it to myself to look the betrayal in the face and give him one last chance to deny it.
I pulled out my phone and dialed his private number.
He picked up on the fourth ring.
"Ivy?" Jace's voice came through, thick with sleep and irritation. "Where the hell are you? My shoulder is locked up, and the team doctor doesn't know how to release the subscapular knot."
In the background, a woman's light laugh drifted through the receiver, followed by the rustle of silk sheets.
"Jace," I said, keeping my voice level as I walked down the empty corridor toward the dormitories. "Are you trading me to Frostpeak?"
The line went dead silent for two seconds.
"Who told you that?" he demanded, his tone sharpening.
"Answer the question."
A heavy sigh rattled through the speaker. "Miller shouldn't have brought it up before the victory gala. Look, Ivy, it's a strategic alliance. The northern coalition holds the mineral rights to the lower valley. They asked for an unbonded female with pure lineage. It’s the best move for the pack. It’s good for everyone."
"Good for everyone?" I stopped in my tracks outside the athletic center doors. "You're selling me to an enemy Alpha in exchange for supply routes, Jace. What about us? What about your promise to claim me at the gala tonight?"
"Be realistic," Jace snapped, his patience snapping. "The pack comes first. A captain has responsibilities. Sloane's father controls thirty percent of our arena revenue. An alliance with her family secures our franchise for the next decade."
"So Sloane gets the Luna title, and I get shipped out like freight."
"Sloane, give me a minute," Jace muttered away from the phone.
I heard the distinct sound of someone stretching across a mattress, followed by Sloane's sweet, smug purr. "Don't take too long, Captain. The press team needs your signature on the joint Luna announcement draft before noon."
The knife twisted in my chest, but the pain lasted only a split second before freezing into cold resolve.
"We're done, Jace," I said. "Don't ever contact me again."
"Stop being dramatic," Jace scoffed, entirely unbothered. "You're an Omega. You're emotional because of the tournament stress. Go back to your quarters, rest, and set up my pre-gala recovery table. We'll talk about your relocation terms after the season wraps up."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Ivy, don't test me," he warned, his Alpha authority lacing his words. "You work for the Ironfang medical staff. You do what I say. Be in my suite by two."
I hung up on him.
I walked straight into the medical administration wing, scanned my badge, and opened the league management portal.
Without hesitating, I pulled up my contract. I had two weeks of accrued leave and an open resignation clause due to unpaid overtime. I typed in my departure notice, stamped it with my digital medical seal, and sent it directly to the pack commissioner's inbox.
Next, I opened Jace's private profile.
For three years, I had maintained a customized rehabilitation protocol for him. His team physicians knew the diagnoses, but no one else knew the exact routine that kept his severe meniscus tear and chronic nerve entrapment under control. I had spent hours every night massaging the scar tissue, applying specialized herbal poultices, and manipulating his joints so he could stay functional through the league's mandatory physicals.
The team physicians thought he was a medical marvel. They thought his body was indestructible.
I selected his treatment schedule, revoked my private protocol access, and transferred the encrypted treatment logs to the team compliance archive.
If he wanted to be the great Ironfang MVP with Sloane by his side, he could survive on the ice without my hands keeping him intact.
I went up to the third-floor staff dorms and dragged my single duffel bag from beneath the bed. I packed my clothes, my medical reference books, and my certifications. Everything Jace had ever bought me—the team jackets, the jewelry, the flowers from last year's finals—I dumped into the trash bin by the door.
A sharp knock sounded against the wooden frame.
I zipped my bag and looked up. A junior courier from the front office stood in the hallway, holding a thick manila folder stamped with the official wax seal of the pack board.
"Miss Ivy?" the boy asked nervously. "Pack Owner Miller asked me to deliver your transfer package. He said the captain wanted you to have the formal documentation before the press conference."
"Leave it on the desk," I said.
The courier set the folder down and quickly stepped out.
I walked over and picked up the packet. Inside was a formal transfer contract addressed to the Frostpeak Alpha, detailing my lineage, my medical qualifications, and the terms of my permanent relocation to the northern territory.
My eyes dropped to the bottom of the page.
The signature line wasn't blank. Jace's sharp, familiar handwriting was scrawled across the captain's authorization block.
Beside his signature was the date stamp: *Six weeks ago.*
A bitter chill rushed through my veins.
He hadn't made this deal last night under pressure from the board. He hadn't been forced into anything. He had finalized the sale of my life over a month ago, all while kissing my forehead in the locker room and telling me we were going to build a home together after the Founders Cup.
I slid the papers into my personnel folder, picked up my duffel bag, and walked out the door.
I dropped my security badge into the drop box at the front gate, walked past the arena security checkpoint, and flagged a private cab toward the city limits.
***
RONAN'S POV
Across the district line, inside the fortified command compound of the Blackridge territory, the air in the war room was thick with tension.
I sat at the head of the steel conference table, my black tactical shirt unbuttoned at the neck, revealing the fresh, neat sutures holding my torn flank together.
"The arena skirmish is contained, Commander," my second-in-command reported, setting a tablet on the table. "Ironfang security suppressed the concourse footage. But our intelligence team pulled the identity of the medic who treated you in the lower bunker."
I looked up, my amber eyes catching the harsh fluorescent lights. "Who is she?"
"Her name is Ivy," the officer replied. "Head physical therapist for Ironfang's primary roster. Officially unbonded, but our sources inside the arena confirm she has been Jace's private companion for the past three seasons."
I went dead quiet. My jaw tightened as the memory of her scent—sweet, raw, and completely unmasked—flashed through my mind.
"Where is she now?" I asked, my voice low and dangerous.
"She's gone," the officer said. "Twenty minutes ago, she submitted an immediate resignation to the Ironfang medical board and cleared out her quarters. Jace has four squads tearing through the arena looking for her, but she vanished off the grid."
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small, discarded scent patch I had taken from the medical bay floor. The faint trace of her lavender-and-cedar pheromones lingered against my palm.
"She won't leave the medical field," I said, my fingers closing around the patch. "Run her credentials through every independent rehabilitation clinic and regional trauma outpost accepting Ironfang transfers. Find her before Jace does."
