I packed in silence. Two daggers. A change of clothes. The silver locket my mother gave me before she died—before Ethan let her die.
Luna was quiet inside me, still reeling from the Alpha command that had choked our rejection into silence. But beneath her hurt, I felt something else building. Not rage. Something colder. Clearer.
The apothecary was empty at this hour. I slipped through the back door, my Delta training making me a ghost. The scent-masking paste sat on the third shelf, in a clay jar marked with a red X. Dangerous stuff. It would burn going on, and the smell would make me gag for days.
I didn't care.
I smeared it over every inch of exposed skin, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out as it seared like acid. My scent disappeared beneath the foul herbal stench. Even Luna recoiled from it.
Good. Let Ethan try to track me now.
The rain was still falling when I reached the border. Heavy, relentless, washing away footprints and scent trails. I pulled my Delta badge from my jacket—the silver pin I'd earned through blood and broken bones—and pressed it into the bark of the marker tree.
Three years of service. Three years of loyalty.
I left it there and walked into the storm.
---
The neutral zone's mercenary guild operated out of a converted warehouse that reeked of wet fur and desperation. Rogues, lone wolves, and pack rejects crowded the bulletin board, scanning for jobs that paid in cash and asked no questions.
I pushed through the crowd to the counter. The clerk—a grizzled wolf with a scar bisecting his face—looked me up and down.
"You lost, sweetheart?"
"I need a mission." My voice came out flat. "Red Level."
His eyebrows shot up. "Red Level's suicide work. You know that, right?"
"I know."
He studied me for a long moment, then shrugged and pulled out a folder. "Northern Territories. Rogue supply route needs mapping. Terrain's unstable, rogue activity's high, and we've lost three scouts already this month." He slid a waiver across the counter. "Sign here. No search party if you don't come back."
I signed without reading it.
He handed me a map and a satellite phone. "Good luck. You're gonna need it."
I didn't believe in luck anymore.
---
The Northern Territories were exactly as advertised—brutal, unforgiving, and crawling with rogues. I'd been tracking the supply route for two days when I finally spotted them.
A convoy of wolves moving through the mountain pass, carrying crates marked with the Rogue King's symbol. I crouched behind an outcropping of rock, counting numbers and noting positions. Luna stirred, uneasy.
Something's wrong.
I felt it too. The rogues were too relaxed, too exposed. Like they wanted to be seen.
Then I heard it. A low, mechanical click.
Explosives.
I spun toward the ridge above me just as the charges detonated. The world exploded into sound and fury. Rock and ice came crashing down in a wave of white death.
I shifted mid-leap, Luna bursting free in a flash of silver fur. We ran. Faster than we'd ever run before, our paws barely touching the ground as the mountain collapsed behind us.
But we weren't fast enough.
A boulder the size of a car slammed into my side. I heard ribs crack, felt my leg snap like a twig. Luna yelped, and we tumbled, rolling down the slope in a tangle of fur and pain.
Then the snow hit.
It buried us in seconds, tons of ice and rock pressing down from all sides. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. The cold seeped into my bones, turning my blood to slush.
Luna whimpered, her presence fading like smoke.
I'm sorry, I told her. I'm so sorry.
The mate bond pulsed once, twice—then went silent. Snapped clean like a severed rope.
Ethan was gone. Or I was. It didn't matter anymore.
The darkness closed in, soft and welcoming. No more pain. No more betrayal. No more fighting for a love that was never really mine.
I let go.
And the mountain took me.
