The yacht slipped into the harbor just as the sky began to pale.
Dawn bled quietly across the water, soft and indifferent. No one spoke to me as we disembarked. Not the Alpha who had once sworn to protect me. Not his Beta. Not even Veyla—who had sobbed so convincingly the night before that for a moment, I had almost pitied her.
Almost.
I walked off the deck alone, clothes still damp with seawater, skin aching with cold, throat raw from nearly drowning. But what weighed on me more wasn’t the ocean—it was the truth sinking into places much deeper than my lungs.
Asher had thrown me into the sea.
Thrown me.
And afterward, he hadn’t even hesitated.
“You needed to be taught a lesson,” he’d said coldly, standing above the waves like a god who had forgotten mercy. “You’re too jealous. Too entitled. You think too highly of yourself.”
There had been no apology.
No reaching hand.
Not even a shadow of regret.
And the wolf who had saved me—the stranger who dove into the water without hesitation—had disappeared into the crowd before I could even catch his name. No thanks exchanged. No explanation. Just a blur of strength and quiet eyes. Like he’d never been there.
By the time I reached my apartment, I was shaking—not from the cold, but from the last thread of hope snapping inside me.
I didn’t collapse.
Didn’t scream.
Didn’t fall apart.
I packed.
Drawers flew open. Suitcases swallowed everything I owned that still felt like mine. Clothes. Documents. Passports. Drives. Jewelry. The wolf-charm necklace my grandmother gave me before she died. If it had survived them, it survived the cut.
I was folding my final coat when my phone vibrated.
A message from Veyla.
No pretense. No caution. No shame.
“Aurora~ go check my Insta, okay? I uploaded something new!”
My lips curved in a humorless smile.
I opened the app.
There she was—glowing. Draped in one of my silk robes, the pale pink one I bought in Milan. Asher lay beside her, bare-chested, half-asleep, his arm slung lazily around her waist. His face angled toward skin that was far too exposed for the pose to be “accidental.”
And on her other side—Kieran.
One arm looped around her shoulders like she was some crowned treasure.
The caption read:
“Birthday perfection with my favorite boys Thanks for making every moment unforgettable. Especially the sweet parts.”
Then another story popped up.
My car.
My brand-new car.
Her text followed seconds later.
“Oh! And guess what? Asher gave me your car too. Said it was technically his anyway. The color fits me so much better. Don’t worry though—you can borrow it sometime… if you’re polite.”
I laughed.
Softly at first. Then until it hurt.
I tapped the heart beneath her post and let it turn red.
Tomorrow, I’d be gone.
And I wasn’t taking their ghosts with me.
---
That afternoon, I resigned from my job.
I smiled while I did it. Shook hands. Thanked people. Promised to “keep in touch.” I walked out of the building as if I weren’t burning my entire life to the ground behind me.
When I returned to the apartment, it was time for the final purge.
From beneath the bed, I dragged out the old leather case—scarred and heavy with history. Inside were the things I’d kept because once, I was foolish enough to believe that love deserved preservation.
Asher’s silver chain lay coiled inside, the one engraved with words only we used to know.
Kieran’s lighter followed. Scratched. Cold. Still carrying the memory of smoke-filled nights and quiet confessions that once felt safe.
Asher’s watch came next—the crystal cracked, hands frozen at a time that would never move forward again.
Then the letters.
The ones Asher wrote when I was sixteen. Clumsy poems. Racing hearts. Promises he’d sworn he’d never break.
And Kieran’s notes—slipped beneath my dorm door during lonely nights at college. Careful handwriting. Half-confessions. Half-regrets.
The leather jacket Asher once said would always belong to me.
Kieran’s battered motorcycle helmet.
The tiny music box that used to play our song.
Click.
Fire bloomed in my palm.
The jacket caught first, the leather curling inward as the flames ate it alive. One by one, I fed everything to the blaze. The letters shriveled. The metal blackened. The music box cracked with a dull, hollow sound.
By the time the door flew open, half my past was already ash.
“Aurora—are you out of your mind?!” Asher shouted.
His eyes were wide. Wild. Not with remorse—but with panic.
I didn’t look up. “I’m cleaning.”
“Don’t bullshit me!” He strode forward. “Those aren’t just objects. That’s our history!”
Behind him, Kieran rushed in and dropped to his knees, trying to snatch something from the fire. The flames bit into his skin and he hissed, jerking back. “You’re destroying everything we ever shared!”
I finally lifted my gaze.
“You gave my car to Veyla,” I said evenly. “You let her wear my clothes. You let her take my place. So she can have the souvenirs too.”
Asher’s voice broke. “You’re really going to end everything like this? After one bad night?”
“One night?” I repeated softly.
Then I smiled.
“I’m not ending anything. You already did.”
Kieran shook his head. “You acted like a child last night. You embarrassed her on her birthday.”
“I almost died,” I replied quietly.
Silence slammed into the room.
“I’m done,” I said. “This is the last moment you get from me. After tonight—you don’t get my name anymore.”
They stood there as the smoke climbed toward the ceiling, ash drifting down like snowfall.
It was strange.
They had nearly torn the pack apart for Veyla’s fake tears.
But when I was shattering for real—
—not one of them had asked why.
Now, they stood frozen, mourning what burned in the flames.
Too late.
