Izara's POV

“Mommy, is Daddy coming?”

Kallias’s soft voice plays on repeat in my mind, each word cutting into me like a blade. I can still see his pale face, those wide, hopeful eyes that clung to every promise his father never kept. He was curled up on the couch, hugging his favorite dolphin plushie like it could keep the world together.

I choke back a sob, my throat tightening as the memory guts me. Mavros promised—he swore—he’d be there. Said we’d spend the Moon Goddess Festival as a family. But, like every other promise he made, it was just a lie wrapped in silence.

I called him that night, desperate, begging, praying he’d answer. Every ring that went unanswered was like a knife twisting deeper. His men claimed they didn’t know where he was. My wolf howled, my chest burned, but it didn’t matter. Silence. Always silent.

And Kallias…he waited. He waited until his tiny body couldn’t hold on anymore. He died clutching that stupid dolphin plushie, still hoping his father would walk through the door. Mavros never came.

Now, here I am, kneeling at my son’s grave with that same plushie clutched against my chest, like it’s the last piece of him I have. Tears stream down my face as I whisper, “I’ll keep my promise to you, baby. I swear.” My voice cracks, barely audible over the weight of my grief.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, snapping me out of my spiral. It’s Monica Severinus—my best friend and Evander’s sister. She’s sent me a picture.

And there he is. Alpha Mavros Avalon. My mate. Kallias’s father. The man who couldn’t be bothered to show up for his dying son. He’s at the festival. With her.

Vivian. My sister.

He chose her. Again.

The photo burns into my mind, igniting something in me that burns hotter than grief—fury. My hands tremble as I shove my phone back into my pocket. Without thinking, I storm upstairs, grabbing clothes and shoving them into a suitcase. The faint scent of him still lingers in the room, mocking me.

This house, this life—it’s all a lie. I yank open drawers, throwing anything and everything into the suitcase. My hands don’t stop until it’s full, and then I drag it down the stairs.

I freeze at the sound of laughter. Their laughter.

There he is, standing in the doorway. Mavros. And Vivian is clinging to his arm like she’s already won. Her smile is smug, radiant in that way only betrayal can be.

His eyes land on the suitcase, and his brow furrows. “What’s this, Izara? Another one of your tantrums? Feeling sorry for yourself because I didn’t show up for your son?”

Your son. Never our son.

Before I can even process the rage boiling in my veins, Vivian speaks, her voice oozing with fake concern. “Oh, Izzy, don’t be upset. I asked him to stay with me. I wasn’t feeling well, and, well, Mavros was just being the thoughtful man he is.”

That smile. That triumphant, venomous smile.

Memories hit me like a truck. I was sick once too—pregnant with Kallias, barely holding on. I called Mavros, begging for help. He didn’t answer then either. When I dragged myself to his study, shaking, clutching my stomach, he didn’t even look up.

“Stop being such a ninny, Izara. You’re not dying. Leave me alone,” he’d said.

If Monica hadn’t come for me, Kallias and I wouldn’t have survived. And where was Mavros during all of that? With Vivian. Always with her.

Now he’s standing here, his expression as cold and unfeeling as ever. “If you’re bored, Izara, there’s plenty to do around the pack,” he says, like my grief and rage are some sort of inconvenience to him.

And then Vivian, swaying like a delicate flower, grabs his arm. His demeanor softens instantly, his voice dripping with tenderness I’ve never known from him. “You’re still unwell. You should rest,” he says to her, steadying her as if she’s the most precious thing in the world.

I’ve had enough.

My fists clench, and I force my voice to stay calm, though it trembles with anger. “I’m leaving for good, Alpha Mavros.”

His head snaps up, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous. It’s freedom,” I say, my voice finally steady. “Freedom from you.”

Izara's POV

We never sealed the bond. No Luna ceremony, no wedding—because Alpha Mavros never planned for me to be the Luna of the Amunar pack.

That wedding eight years ago? A joke. A damn performance to keep my parents happy. They wanted their precious daughter to settle down with her fated mate. They trusted him. Believed he’d take care of me, Vivian, and the pack. But me? I wasn’t fooled.

Deep down, I knew he resented them. Hated them for not helping the Avalons when their pack was slaughtered, leaving him a blood-soaked orphan. I begged my parents to take him in. Me. And now, here he was, glaring at me like I was dirt under his boots, his lips curling into that cruel, condescending smirk.

“What’s this tantrum, Izara? Pathetic, as usual. Another empty threat? First, you use your son, and now you’re using yourself?”

The words cut deep, but I was used to them. Mavros always acted like Kallias’s illness was my way of manipulating him. Guilt-tripping him into showing up. But he didn’t get it. He never got it. Kallias wasn’t a game. He was our son. His illness was real—the healer said as much. And all my boy wanted was his father. Just once.

Every time Kallias’s face lit up, waiting, hoping... only for that hope to shatter when Mavros didn’t come—it broke me.

I felt the tears building, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him. I tightened my grip on the suitcase and straightened my back.

Mavros scoffed, pure disdain etched on his face. “Go back to your room, Izara. Your tears don’t move me, and your threats don’t scare me.”

And there she was—Vivian. My sister. Smirking from the couch like the queen of his world. She loved this. Thrived on it. Vivian, the golden child. The one who always shone brighter. Prettier, smarter, more loved. And now? Now she had him, too.

But blood or not, I wasn’t letting her win.

I wiped my face, keeping my voice steady. “I don’t care what you think anymore, Mavros. I’m leaving.”

I turned, dragging my suitcase toward the door.

Behind me, Vivian’s sugary voice piped up, fake concern dripping from every word. “Alpha Mavros, is Sis Izara upset because you missed the Moon Festival? I heard she and Kallias were hoping you’d come.”

“You’re unwell, Vivian,” he said gently, his tone soft—comforting. For her, of course. Not for me. “Izara can celebrate next year. She’s just being dramatic, as always.”

Dramatic. Guilt-tripping. Manipulative. I bit down the bitter retort clawing its way up my throat and reached for the door. My fingers barely brushed the handle when his hand gripped my arm.

“What are you doing, Izara? Enough of your—” His words cut off as he stared at my face, tear-streaked and angry.

For a moment, I thought I saw something—his eyes softening, guilt maybe? Regret? But then he said quietly, like he was reasoning with a child, “It’s just one festival. It’s not worth crying over. I’ll be there next year, I promise.”

Next year. He didn’t even realize what he’d said. Or what it meant.

I yanked my arm free, venom dripping from my words. “Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Shock flickered across his face. He wasn’t used to me pulling away, to me standing up for myself. But tonight? I was done.

He reached for me again, but before he could, Vivian clung to his arm.

“I think Sis Izara’s upset because I’m taking you away from her son,” she cooed, her voice thick with fake sweetness. “She must be mad because Kallias is faking his illness, and now—”

The room tilted. Faking? My son? My Kallias?

Her words hit me like a freight train, knocking the air from my lungs. My vision blurred. My pulse roared in my ears. And before I even realized it, my hand cracked across her face.

The slap echoed through the room like a gunshot. Vivian’s head snapped to the side, and for a moment, she just stared at me, wide-eyed and stunned.

“Say that again,” I hissed, my voice low, trembling with barely contained fury. “Say it again, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Izara's POV

Alpha Mavros’s glare pinned me down like a predator ready to pounce. “What the hell is wrong with you, Izara? Have you forgotten she’s your sister?” His voice was low, cutting, sharp enough to pierce through armor.

But I didn’t flinch. My focus stayed locked on Vivian, her tear-streaked face doing nothing to chip away at the satisfaction thrumming in my chest. She deserved it. Every bit of it.

I leveled her with a stare colder than ice. “Think carefully about what you’re accusing, Vivian,” I said, my voice sharp and unforgiving.

Vivian clutched her cheek, tears streaming as she whimpered, “I’m sorry, Sis Izara. I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you and Alpha Mavros... but Kallias is faking his illness.”

Her words slammed into me like a wrecking ball. My chest tightened, rage bubbling up until it spilled over. Faking his illness? My Kallias? My son?

I didn’t even realize I’d raised my hand again until Mavros’s grip clamped around my wrist. “Don’t hurt your sister again,” he growled, his voice edged with warning.

I yanked my arm back, glaring at him. “You believe her, don’t you?” My voice trembled, raw with disbelief. He let go of my wrist, but his silence spoke volumes.

That silence? It shattered me. It was all the answer I needed. The betrayal burned hotter than fire, charring any trace of love I might’ve had left for him.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost cautious. “Where’s Kallias? Are you leaving with him?”

A bitter laugh tore out of me. “So that’s what this is about. Not whether he’s sick, not whether he needs you. You just want to know if I’m taking him with me.”

His mouth opened, like he had something to say, but nothing came out. Typical. His silence screamed louder than words ever could. If he’d ever set foot in Kallias’s room, he wouldn’t need to ask. The proof was all there—the rows of medicine bottles, the healer’s desperate notes. But no. He never looked past Vivian’s lies.

“You weren’t there,” I snapped, my voice rising with every word. “Not when Kallias was crying in pain, not when he begged for you to show up. And now you just believe her? What kind of father are you?”

Something flickered in his eyes—guilt, maybe? Anger? But as always, he said nothing.

The memories crashed over me, merciless. Kallias pressing his little face to the window, his voice trembling as he asked, “Will Dad come this time?” And the way his small shoulders had slumped when I couldn’t even muster up a convincing lie anymore. I’d gone to Mavros that night, swallowing every shred of my pride. “Just one festival,” I begged. “If not for me, then for him.”

And he’d smiled. Smiled like he’d won. “If I go, will you leave me alone for good?”

“Yes,” I whispered, choking on the word.

But he didn’t go.

Now, staring at him, there was nothing left of the boy my parents had taken in, the boy I’d once thought I loved. The man standing in front of me was a stranger—cold, heartless, and everything I should’ve seen coming.

Vivian’s sickly sweet voice broke through my thoughts. “Alpha Mavros, my face hurts… I’m feeling faint.” She swayed dramatically, clutching his arm like she might collapse. Her performance? Oscar-worthy.

Mavros moved immediately, steadying her with hands that once held me. His voice softened, dripping with concern. “Vivian, you need to rest. You’ve been through too much.”

I scoffed under my breath, biting down on the scream clawing its way out. Of course. Vivian, the golden child. Vivian, who could do no wrong. And me? I was just the convenient scapegoat.

Then he turned back to me, his gaze hard as steel. “Apologize to your sister, Izara,” he commanded, his tone laced with authority. “You were out of line.”