I remained in the infirmary far longer than anyone expected. Officially, it was because my ankle had not healed enough to bear my weight. Unofficially, it was because no one came to take me home.
Not the man who called himself my mate.
Not the brothers who once swore under the Moon that my life was tied to theirs.
No one came for me—except Theo Ravenscar.
Theo, who had once been my closest companion during our years at the Academy of Claws and Shadow, when our wolves were still clumsy and curious, learning how to stalk beneath unfamiliar constellations. Theo, who admitted long ago that his wolf reacted to mine, who had confessed his feelings with a shy honesty I hadn’t known how to return. I had turned him away gently then, not because he lacked worth, but because my heart had already been claimed.
By Lucien.
By the Alpha I believed was my fate.
Now, it was Theo who stayed.
He brought meals prepared carefully, seasoned with herbs gentle enough for my weakened wolf. He sat beside my bed while grief overtook me, never pressing for answers, never demanding words I couldn’t form. When nightmares clawed at me in sleep, his presence anchored me, his wolf’s calm energy standing guard when mine was too faint to defend itself.
On the morning I was cleared to leave, Theo wheeled me into the grove behind the infirmary, where sunlight filtered through sacred branches and the trees whispered with ancestral memory. We sat there quietly, letting the wind speak for us, letting the silence stretch without strain.
“I wasn’t speaking lightly before,” he said at last, his gaze unwavering, a soft golden glow flickering behind his eyes. “You don’t owe that den of vipers another breath. If you choose to walk away with me… I swear I’ll protect both you and your wolf.”
I lowered my eyes to my hands. They looked fragile, thinner than I remembered, shaking despite my effort. My claws refused to surface, no matter how hard I called to them. Every decision I’d made had led me here—empty, unwanted, mourning losses no one else acknowledged.
“Give me five nights,” I said quietly. “There are things I need to put to rest. But after that… I’ll leave with you.”
His expression softened, sadness shadowing his smile. “Then we’ll wait. Under the Moon. For your signal.”
—
When I returned to the pack house, the sun hung high overhead. The brightness felt wrong—mocking—too cheerful for the turmoil curling in my chest. I leaned heavily on the cane the healer had pressed into my palm, each step toward the oak doors a careful negotiation with pain.
Choosing Theo frightened me. I had once rejected him. The path ahead was uncertain. But staying here—remaining in a place where I had been reduced to nothing—was far worse.
I pushed the doors open.
Laughter spilled out.
I stopped cold.
Inside the hearth hall, they were gathered together—Lucien sprawled comfortably, Silas and Bastian nearby, drinks in hand. Evelyn reclined against Lucien’s shoulder as though she had always belonged there. Mate. Sister. Brothers. A perfect picture of unity.
They noticed me all at once. Smiles vanished. Surprise flickered across their faces like they were staring at someone who should have stayed buried.
“Oh,” Lucien said after a pause. “You’re back already? I must’ve lost track of the day. How are you feeling?”
Lost track.
Not one of them had visited. Not once.
Before I could answer, Evelyn sprang up and hurried toward me, her expression bright and practiced. “Arwen! I was worried about you. I’m sorry we didn’t come sooner—I’ve been so unwell lately, but I’m recovering now. And you? Are you healed?”
I stepped away from her, revulsion crawling under my skin.
“No,” I replied flatly. “I’m not.”
Her smile faltered. “Arwen—”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t touch me.”
Bastian shot to his feet, hackles raised. “What’s wrong with you? She’s barely holding herself together.”
Silas followed suit, scowling. “Have some decency. She’s suffered enough.”
A laugh tore out of me, sharp and bitter. “And I haven’t? I was broken on a road, crushed by metal and fire. Where were you when I lay in the healer’s ward?”
Lucien exhaled impatiently. “You brought that on yourself. You ran into danger without your wolf. Evelyn is different—she’s fighting an illness that’s eating her alive. She’s vulnerable.”
“And she’s still my sister,” Evelyn added softly, tears shimmering. “Please don’t turn against me. We’re both hurting. We should lean on each other, not—”
I shook my head slowly. “I lost a child,” I said. “And none of you came. Not even once.”
The words had barely settled when Evelyn swayed dramatically, clutching her abdomen.
“She’s fainting again!” Bastian shouted.
Chaos followed immediately. Lucien scooped her up as if she were weightless. Silas rushed for water. Bastian hovered anxiously at her side.
And I stood there.
Invisible.
Once more, my truth was swallowed, erased beneath their urgency for her. I thought of screaming—forcing them to hear me—but exhaustion hollowed me out. What place did I have here, where no one claimed me?
I turned away and limped toward the room Lucien and I once shared.
When I opened the door, my breath stalled.
Everything of mine was gone.
Clothes. Keepsakes. Photos. Even the sacred charms I had arranged with care. In their place lingered Evelyn’s scent, her jewelry scattered casually, her dresses draped before the mirror like a declaration of ownership.
My cane slipped from my grasp as I stumbled back.
She stood behind me.
Evelyn.
No false sweetness remained—only a predator’s smile.
“I wasn’t always like this,” she said calmly. “I used to be gentle. But softness earned me nothing. You stepped into my life, took my place, my mate, even my brothers. I’m simply reclaiming what was always meant to be mine.”
Her smile sharpened.
“But don’t worry,” she added lightly. “I’ll allow you a few days to disappear. It wouldn’t look good for the pack if you were dragged out like a stray.”
Rage flared hot in my chest. “Are you truly ill?”
Her gaze hardened. “Of course.”
But memory whispered otherwise—how she once pretended weakness to escape blame, how she collapsed conveniently whenever attention drifted away.
She raised her voice suddenly. “How dare you accuse me?”
Silas and Bastian rushed in at once.
“She’s attacking me again,” Evelyn cried. “She says I’m lying about my sickness!”
Bastian sneered at me. “You’ve always been poison to this family.”
Silas stormed forward and yanked the necklace from my throat—the one he’d given me as pups, a promise of protection.
“You don’t deserve this anymore.”
They left without another word.
I sank to the floor, clutching my aching side, every breath heavy with pain.
But I said nothing.
Because in five nights, I would be gone.
And when I left, the Moon itself would witness the regret they would one day suffocate on.
