I unfolded the letter from my senior sister, Livia Hill.
Her words were clear—since the Bennett Pack had treated me so poorly, I should consider moving to Greenwood.
Though Greenwood lacked the grandeur of the capital, it would offer me safety, a sanctuary away from the toxicity that had consumed my life.
I had been torn.
Part of me still longed for a life with Taylor Medina, my mate, despite everything. The bond between us, though strained, still pulsed faintly in my chest, a reminder of what could have been.
Yet another part of me yearned to return to the pack I had once called family, to the sisters and brothers who had stood by me when Taylor’s family had cast me aside.
But Taylor made the decision for me.
He rejected me.
The words still echoed in my mind, sharp and unrelenting. “I, Taylor Medina, Alpha of the Medina Pack, reject you, Eden Mendez, as my mate.”
The pain of that moment had been excruciating, the bond between us shattering like glass. Yet, in a strange way, it freed me.
I no longer had to choose.
Now, I could focus on the one thing that had always grounded me—my mother’s legacy.
Among the few possessions I had left of hers were several paintings she had created during her lifetime.
They were old, the colors faded, but they carried her essence, her spirit.
I ran my fingers over the canvas of her favorite piece, *Autumn Mountains*.
The strokes were delicate yet bold, a testament to her talent and passion.
Tears welled in my eyes as I whispered, “Mom, we were both so foolish, weren’t we?”
My mother, Seraphina, had been a skilled artist, a protégé of the renowned healer and painter, Lawson Oliver.
Garrett Bennett, the former Alpha of the Bennett Pack, had come to Greenwood seeking a commission.
Instead, he found her.
He pursued her relentlessly, his aura and commanding presence impossible to resist.
They had their marking ceremony in Greenwood, and I was born soon after.
But my mother never knew that Garrett already had a mate back in the capital, Paula Herrera.
He had intended their affair to be fleeting, a momentary indulgence.
But my mother loved him too deeply.
When she followed him to the capital, she walked into a scene that shattered her heart—Garrett and Paula, entwined in their bond, their love on full display.
Paula, ever the shrewd Luna, insisted on bringing my mother into the pack, adding her name to the registry.
But it was no kindness.
My mother withered under the weight of humiliation and heartbreak.
She died young, her hands gripping mine, her eyes filled with tears of regret.
“Eden,” she had whispered, her voice trembling. “Your mate… choose one who loves you… who protects you.”
I had promised her, through my own tears, that I would.
But now, looking back, I realized how naive I had been.
My mother and I had both made the same mistake—we had tied our worth to the love of men who could never truly cherish us.
Perhaps it was time to let go of that dream.
Perhaps happiness didn’t lie in finding a mate but in finding myself.
As I stood there, my mother’s painting cradled in my arms, I felt a resolve harden within me.
I would honor her memory, not by chasing the love of an Alpha, but by embracing the life I had built for myself.
The bond with Taylor was broken, but I was not.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt free.
