Aurora's POV
“I—”
“Just come home,” she cut me off, her tone clipped. “Bring something for your father. It’s his birthday, and he expects you to show up.”
Then the call ended, leaving nothing but the hollow ringing in my ear.
I didn’t want to go.
I never did.
The Blackwood Pack had never felt like mine. It was a place I walked through like a ghost—unnoticed, unwelcomed. My mother had made it clear long ago that she wanted nothing to do with me. Only my father gave me something that resembled kindness… though even that felt watered down compared to what he gave Mirelle.
Because Mirelle received everything—his affection, his pride, his legacy.
And me?
I was the stray mutt loitering at the doorstep, hoping for crumbs I was never meant to touch. Hungry. Hopeless. Diminishing.
Three days had passed since Alaric scribbled his name on the rejection papers.
Three days since the night I nearly died.
And I hadn’t seen him once.
I knew exactly where he was. And with whom.
The old me—the stupidly hopeful version—would’ve called him over and over just to hear his voice, asking whether he planned to come back to the pack house, pretending my heart wasn’t shattering with every word.
I tried so hard. I reshaped myself again and again, hoping one of those versions would be enough for him to look at without disgust.
But the colors I painted myself in bled together—
Red.
Darker.
Even darker…
Until everything turned pitch black.
Now? I felt nothing. I was drained of emotion, emptied out.
I threw the final box into the garbage bin beside the house, planning to burn everything later.
A wave of dizziness hit me. Maybe my body was still recovering. My wolf certainly was—exhausted, thinning, fading.
She’d been dying the moment I took Alaric as my mate. What should’ve strengthened her—our bond—had only weakened her instead.
Alaric never accepted us. His wolf didn’t either.
And mine... she had started slipping away. Staying here meant losing her completely. Wolves don’t survive that. And neither do their humans.
We had survived on scraps of affection from a mate who never wanted us.
But I was done being starved.
---
The Blackwood Pack rose proudly on the western side of the werewolf realm—one of the elite packs trusted by the Werewolf King of Crescent City.
I wore a plain dress. Nothing fancy.
Even though I held the title of Luna of Moonlight—the strongest pack in Crescent—nobody outside Alaric’s inner circle knew.
His idea.
Supported by his parents.
Endorsed by the council for my supposed “safety.”
But I knew better. He wasn’t protecting me.
He was hiding me.
He was embarrassed that I was the one fate tied to him—when it should’ve been Mirelle.
Everyone around me dressed like royalty—gowns glittering like starlight, men in tailored coats and silks. These were Alphas, Betas, Lunas from powerful packs. No omegas. No staff. No whispers allowed.
No one here knew the truth—that I was the real daughter of the Blackwood Pack.
My parents buried that truth for their reputation, letting Mirelle shine, letting her hold the title that belonged to me.
And me?
I was the unwanted truth they couldn’t erase.
Cruel.
In every way.
I approached my father and bowed slightly. “Alpha Gideon… this is my offering.”
One of his guards accepted it from my hands. My father gave me nothing more than a stiff nod.
I’d grown used to that coldness.
I once believed that discovering my true bloodline would make me feel wanted. That coming home would finally mean belonging.
It never did.
I remembered standing here as a child, ten years old, watching my parents beam at Mirelle—the girl who took everything meant for me.
I bit my cheek hard and turned away.
That’s when I saw them.
Mirelle and Alaric.
Her hand wrapped around his arm like she’d owned it since birth. He wore a sleek black coat and a sharp expression. She wore a lavender dress shimmering under the chandelier light.
They looked flawless together.
Beautiful, even.
Perhaps… they really were the match everyone wanted.
They were walking straight toward us.
My mother brushed past me as though my body were nothing more than air. Her entire face lit up when she saw Mirelle.
Alaric’s gaze found mine. I stiffened my spine and stepped forward.
To everyone in the room, I was merely his assistant. His helper.
How twisted.
How unbearably unfair.
And once, I accepted it.
Just to be close to him.
Just to pretend I mattered.
How stupid I had been.
“Take this to the Alpha,” Alaric said, pushing a gift box toward me.
I didn’t lift a hand.
Mirelle’s and my mother’s heads snapped in my direction, eyes narrowing at my defiance.
“Why didn’t you accept it?” Mirelle asked, sugary sweet with a sharpened edge.
Alaric’s voice dropped into authority. “Are you ignoring an order from your Alpha now?”
I met his icy blue stare and spoke with a calmness that felt like death.
“I’m finished, Alaric. I’m not your servant anymore.”
A collective gasp echoed across the hall.
Alaric’s eyes widened—shock breaking through his usual cold mask.
And for the first time ever…
I saw fear flicker in them.
