Dessie POV:
The flames in the incinerator had turned to ash, but the fire in my veins was just beginning to ignite.
My hand hovered instinctively over my lower abdomen. There was a life there. A tiny, secret spark of wolf and human.
My wolf curled around the sensation, fiercely protective, offering a low, vibrating growl against the cruelty of the world.
*Ping.*
My internal *Mind-Link* vibrated. It was Craig.
I shouldn't answer. I knew I should block him, wall him off completely. But a dark, masochistic curiosity took hold. I wanted to hear his voice one last time before I did what I had to do.
I opened the channel, but I kept my mental voice silent.
"...honestly, babe, she took it better than I thought," Craig’s voice filtered into my mind, clear and careless. He wasn't talking to me. He had left the channel open by mistake.
"Did she take the check?" A female voice. Chanel. Her tone was shrill, dripping with mockery.
"She will," Craig laughed, the sound grating against my skull. "She’s a Beta. They always need security. Besides, she’s obsessed with me. She’ll stay in line just to be near me."
"Good," Chanel purred. "I don't want her causing drama when I take the Luna title. Are you sure she won't fight for her position?"
"Dessie?" Craig scoffed. "She doesn't have the spine. That’s why you’re the Luna, and she’s the worker bee. Now, come here..."
The wet, slick sounds that followed made bile rise in my throat, burning like acid.
I slammed the mental door shut, severing the link with a violent mental shove.
My knees hit the concrete floor hard.
*No spine.*
He thought I was weak. He thought I was a pathetic little follower who would starve for the crumbs falling from his table.
"You're wrong," I hissed into the silence, the words trembling with rage.
I stood up. The dizziness was gone, replaced by a clarity so sharp it felt like a blade.
I couldn't stay here. And I couldn't let them know about the baby.
I pulled up my hood and moved through the shadows of the pack grounds, sticking to the blind spots I knew better than anyone. I headed for the edge of the territory, to the dense woods where the old ones lived.
The Healer’s hut was overgrown with moss, blending into the forest floor. Elder Martha was an outcast, tolerated by the Council only because her knowledge of wolf biology was unmatched.
She opened the door before I knocked. Her milky, sightless eyes widened as she sniffed the air.
"Two hearts," she croaked, her voice like dry leaves. "And a broken bond."
"I need your help," I said, stepping into the gloom. "I need to hide it. And I need to break the tie completely."
Martha ushered me in. The hut smelled of dried sage, bitter roots, and old magic.
"The Severing Ceremony," Martha said, grinding herbs in a stone bowl with rhythmic precision. "It is forbidden by Pack Law without a formal rejection. It causes great pain."
"Do it," I said, my voice steady. "I am leaving. If he senses the pup... if he tracks me through the mate bond..."
"He will hunt you," Martha finished grimly. "Sit."
She painted symbols on my skin with a cold, dark paste that tingled against my flesh. She chanted in the old tongue, words that felt heavy in the air.
*Ping.*
Craig’s voice invaded my head again. *Dessie? Are you there? I think the link cut out. Just checking in. Make sure those reports are on my desk by morning.*
The audacity. He was checking on his employee, not his mate.
"Begin," I told Martha.
She pressed a heated stone against the back of my neck, right over the scent gland where a mate would mark.
The pain was white-hot and immediate. It felt like someone was stripping the nerves out of my spine one by one. I bit down on a leather strap to keep from screaming, tears leaking from my squeezed-shut eyes.
*Report, Dessie,* Craig commanded, impatience bleeding into his tone.
I focused on the pain. I let it burn away the love. I let it burn away the loyalty.
*I received the message, Alpha,* I projected back. My mental voice was icy, detached—a perfect mask. *It will be done.*
I felt the snap. Like a rubber band breaking deep in the center of my chest. The constant, nagging pull toward Craig vanished, leaving a hollow, aching silence in its wake.
I slumped forward, gasping for air, sweat dripping from my nose.
"It is masked," Martha whispered, wiping my brow with a rough cloth. "The child’s scent is hidden. Your scent is... altered. You smell like ash and snow now."
"Thank you," I rasped.
I handed her the only thing of value I had left—a gold watch my father had given me. She nodded, accepting the payment without a word.
I walked back to my apartment in the dark. The pack lands felt different now. They didn't feel like home. They felt like a cage I had just unlocked.
I sat at my computer. My personal laptop, not the pack’s system.
I began to download everything. My designs. My strategies. The irrefutable proof of who really built Silver Creek.
Then, I saw it.
A hidden folder on the pack server. I had access because I was the one who had built the security backdoor hours ago.
It was labeled *C. Murphy - Private.*
I opened it.
It wasn't wedding plans. It was chat logs. Encrypted messages between Chanel and a number I didn't recognize.
*Chanel: The Beta is clueless. Craig is eating out of my hand.*
*Unknown: Good. Once you’re Luna, we can begin the extraction. The White Wolf bloodline is rumored to be in that pack.*
*Chanel: I'll find the carrier. And when I do, we'll drain them dry.*
My blood ran cold, freezing the marrow in my bones.
White Wolf. The legendary bloodline of the Moon Goddess. It was a myth. A bedtime story.
But Chanel was hunting for it. And she was working with Rogues.
I copied the file onto a secure drive, my hands trembling slightly.
I wasn't just leaving a cheating ex. I was stepping into a war.
