As we entered the restaurant, the faint tang of smoke and sizzling meat hit my nose. A waiter recognized us immediately, bowing slightly. “Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Reyes! It’s been a while since we last saw you.”
I noticed Emily stiffen beside Lorenz, and instinctively she brushed against him, linking her arm with his in a subtle, possessive claim. His scent—musky, warm, familiar—shifted under her touch, and I realized how clearly she was marking him. The primal warning flared in my chest, a low, instinctive growl I couldn’t control.
The waiter hesitated, sensing tension, but Lorenz didn’t even glance at me. “Table for four,” he said casually, his voice smooth, alpha-calm.
“Right this way,” the waiter murmured, leading us to a table near the open grill, its flames licking the air. I knew this table well—once, it had been ours, a place where Lorenz had allowed me to share in his ritual of tasting and cooking the steak tableside. Back then, I had never realized it had originally been a tradition he had shared with Emily.
As the coals flared, Gritte stepped forward, tongs in hand, tail flicking in her subtle display of dominance. “I’m actually good at this,” she said, voice dripping confidence. “I only cook if I must, but let me show you.” She flipped the steaks expertly, the sizzle sharp in the air.
Everything seemed under control—until a flare of oil burst onto the coals. Emily startled, yipping in panic, and knocked the grill slightly. Embers leapt like fire spirits, scattering across the table.
Gritte dodged instinctively, fur bristling, but I wasn’t fast enough. Hot sparks landed on my arm and on Emily, both of us closest to the flames.
Before I could react further, Lorenz lunged with the speed of a wolf, scooping Emily into his arms. His growl was low, tense, primal. “Call an ambulance! She’s burned—this is serious!”
Pain lanced along my arm, but his amber gaze didn’t even flick toward me. In that moment, to him, only Emily existed—his mate, his chosen. The exclusion cut me sharper than the embers.
I sat frozen, instinctively brushing at the stinging burns, feeling the wolfish tension in my muscles—the awareness of being sidelined, invisible to the alpha. The waiter, rushing to help, noticed my discomfort. “Mrs. Reyes, are you okay? Do you need help?”
I opened my mouth, but Lorenz’s voice rang, low and commanding, brushing Emily’s hair back as if claiming her entirely. “Make sure she’s taken care of immediately.”
The waiter froze, unsure how to respond. I forced a small, bitter smile. “I’m fine. Please—help her first.”
Lorenz shot me a sharp, dismissive glance. “Toni, if you’re hurt, deal with it. Just don’t make a scene,” he said, his tone cold, predatory.
I pressed my lips together, nodding. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
He turned back to Emily, guiding her toward the waiting ambulance, his every movement protective, instinctive. Gritte huffed nearby, tail flicking in irritation. “Great. Now our night’s ruined,” she muttered, ignoring me entirely.
Once they disappeared into the night, I allowed myself to feel the sting of the burns. The waiter returned with a cold compress, offering it gently. “Here, ma’am. This should help.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, pressing the cloth to my skin. In that moment, a vow formed in my chest, as cold and sharp as the iron in my veins: I will never be ignored again.
I took a taxi to the hospital, each bump on the road reminding me of the sparks that had burned me. The ER doctor cleaned my arm carefully. “You’re lucky. It’s superficial. A few days, and it’ll heal.”
“Thanks,” I said, but overheard nurses whispering nearby. “Did you hear? Mr. Reyes booked an entire floor for Emily, brought in specialists.”
A bitter smile crept onto my face. Never once had he done anything like that for me, even when I had been his mate in all but name.
I handed over my personal card after he had blocked my access, the money from my own hard work. Years of reliance on his alpha provisioning had left me vulnerable—but now, I realized how strong I could be on my own.
Bandaged and resolute, I returned to the manor, determined to avoid Lorenz and Emily, who would spend the night at the hospital. Staff glanced at my arm with concern, but I waved them off. “It’s minor. Don’t worry, and I apologize for the late hour.”
The next morning, a soft chime announced the acceptance email from the Italian Arts Academy. My heart raced with excitement and hunger for independence. I grabbed my art supplies, declining the driver’s offer for a ride. Freedom was intoxicating.
Hours passed in the RISD Museum, surrounded by art that had once ignited my soul. Brush in hand, I felt the weight of Lorenz’s alpha presence lift from my shoulders. For the first time, I created freely, my wolf instincts attuned only to the canvas before me.
Night fell unnoticed until the phone rang. Lorenz.
I answered, tone clipped and sharp. “What is it?”
“Where are you?” His voice was low, dangerous, controlled—alpha frustration radiating. “I expected you home.”
“Where I am is none of your concern, Mr. Reyes,” I said, voice steady, fierce with newly claimed independence.
“How long will this tantrum last, Toni? Is this about the card?” His growl was nearly audible through the line. “Stop playing with the divorce papers. You can’t survive without me.”
I drew a slow breath, muscles coiled in quiet power. “I can,” I said, then hung up. I blocked his number without hesitation.
Moments later, a message appeared: [Lorenz: Come back now, or I will drag you home.]
I typed back: [Toni: Never.]
With a final swipe, I severed him from my life. At last, I was free—my own pack, my own territory, my own life.
