Maya Goldstein POV:
The morning sun offered no warmth. It only served to illuminate the lies that made up my life.
I stood in the center of our bedroom, my gaze fixed on the vases of roses Liam had given me over the years. He always sent roses when he was "busy." Yesterday, they were symbols of love. Today? Today, they looked like colorful tombstones marking the grave of my marriage.
"Get rid of them," I told the servant, my voice devoid of any emotion. "All of them. Every single flower he has ever given me."
The young Omega girl looked terrified but nodded, hurriedly gathering the vases in her trembling arms.
I turned and marched out to the Moonlight Rose Garden. What used to be my sanctuary now felt like a prison. I knelt by the white rosebush I had carefully trimmed just yesterday.
With my bare hands, I seized the base of the stem. The thorns dug into my palms, piercing the skin.
Pain. I needed to feel physical pain to drown out the agony clawing at my chest.
I yanked the bush out of the earth, roots and all. The sound of snapping roots was satisfying. Then another. And another.
"Maya?"
Liam’s voice came from behind me. I didn't turn. I wiped my bloody hands on my jeans and stood up.
He was standing there, holding a velvet box. He looked tired, but there was that same practiced, guilty softness in his eyes.
"Maya... what happened to the garden?" he asked, stepping closer. He reached out to hug me.
As his arms opened, my Inner Wolf snarled. It was a visceral, physical rejection. I stepped back sharply, my body rigid. The smell of him—still faintly laced with *her* sickly sweet perfume—made bile rise in my throat.
Liam paused, confusion flickering in his eyes. "Maya? Are you sick?"
"I'm fine," I said, my tone icy.
He cleared his throat awkwardly and held out the velvet box. "Look, I know I've been busy lately. I wanted to make it up to you. You need to look your best for the upcoming pack gathering."
He opened it. Inside was a diamond necklace. Cold, hard, and expensive. It wasn't a gift; it was payment.
"Is this for me, Liam? Or is it a bribe to buy my silence?" I asked, staring down at the diamonds.
"What are you talking about?" He laughed nervously. "You're being dramatic. Oh, before I forget, Ava Sinclair is taking on more responsibilities within the pack. She might be around the house more often."
He said her name so casually, but I saw his pupil dilate. A micro-expression of fear.
*Ding.*
A notification sounded in his head. I saw his eyes glaze over as he entered the Mind-Link.
"I have to go," he said abruptly. "Rogue wolves were spotted near the northern border. Marc is calling me."
"Liam—"
"Not now, Maya. Duty calls."
He turned and jogged away. As the wind caught his jacket, I smelled it again. Fresh. Pungent. Ava’s scent. He hadn't been tracking rogues in the woods this morning. He had been with her.
I fell to my knees, the world spinning. A wave of nausea hit me so hard I dry-heaved into the upturned soil of the rosebed.
It wasn't just the stress.
Two hours later, I sat in the Pack Healer’s office. The old woman, Elder Martha, looked at me with pity in her eyes.
"You are pregnant, Luna," she said softly. "Six weeks along."
The room went silent. I placed a hand on my flat stomach. A baby. A pup.
I should have been overjoyed. We had talked about this for years. But now? Now, this child was a complication. A shackle binding me to a man who was desecrating our bond.
"Does the Alpha know?" Martha asked.
"No," I whispered. "And you will not tell him. Not yet."
I walked back to the pack house in a daze. My hand protected my stomach instinctively. *I have to protect him,* I thought. *I cannot let him be raised in a lie.*
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It wasn't a Mind-Link; it was a text message.
It was from an unknown number.
I opened it. A photo loaded.
It was blurry, taken in low light, likely inside a car. But the subjects were unmistakable. Liam, his head thrown back, eyes closed. And Ava, leaning over him, her lips on his neck.
Below the photo was a text:
*Luna, you might want to know... Liam's Alpha blood only truly sings when he is with me. He says I make him feel like a King. You just make him feel like a babysitter.*
I stared at the screen until the pixels burned into my retinas.
Rage.
It wasn't the hot, explosive rage of a human. It was the cold, ancient fury of the White Wolf.
I walked upstairs to our bedroom. The diamond necklace was sitting on the dresser where he had left it.
I grabbed it. I grabbed the earrings he gave me last Christmas. The bracelet from our anniversary. I gathered them all in my fist.
I walked to the window, opened it, and hurled thousands of dollars of jewelry into the darkness of the night.
I heard them scatter on the patio stones below with a satisfying clatter.
I placed my hand on my belly again.
"We are leaving," I whispered to the tiny spark of life inside me. "But first? First, we burn his entire world to the ground."
