I tried to lift myself up, but just as I moved, the wooden door suddenly burst open. A golden-furred warhound shot into the room, its tail wagging wildly.

It was Alpha Cole’s battle companion.

Usually, it was gentle as a ball of fluff—but that day, it lunged straight at me, slamming into my abdomen.

I had no time to brace myself. My weakened body, still recovering from wounds, couldn’t resist the blow. A searing pain ripped through my belly like a claw tearing me open. My vision blurred; even the air seemed to splinter beneath the weight of agony.

Blood soaked rapidly through my clothes, a spreading warmth of despair beneath me.

For a moment, I froze—then realization struck.

Two months ago, Alpha Cole’s mother had hinted that I should give the pack an heir. That night, he had been uncharacteristically gentle, and he hadn’t used any contraceptive potion.

I had foolishly believed it was a sign—a fragile hope flickering within the ruins of our bond.

Now, that pain had shredded both the illusion and the tiny life that never had a chance to be welcomed into this world.

I collapsed to my knees, my fingers clawing at the cold stone floor.

My teeth clenched, the taste of blood thick in my mouth, and I screamed hoarsely, “Help… someone, get a carriage!”

Guards rushed in, panicked, lifting me into their arms. My head hung limp as the metallic scent of blood filled the air.

The carriage sped through the streets, wheels thundering against the frozen ground.

“To the healer’s camp! Hurry!”

The pounding hooves echoed like thunder—until the carriage jerked to a halt.

“Madam,” the driver’s voice trembled, “the road ahead is sealed… by Lord Alpha Cole’s command. It’s Miss Diana’s birthday ceremony tonight. He’s closed the roads for her fireworks display.”

Fireworks were bursting above us, coloring the night sky in cruel brilliance.

Each explosion reflected in my tear-blurred eyes—beautiful, merciless, like a celebration of my ruin.

My blood seeped into the carriage seat.

Our love was buried beneath those lights.

I closed my eyes, trembling as I tore off the bond ring from my finger. The silver band—the symbol of our vows—spun through the air, tracing an arc of light before vanishing into the dark.

“Enough…” I whispered.

I wanted none of it anymore—no marriage, no love.

When I awoke again, the sharp scent of herbs filled the world.

The healer bowed her head, her voice heavy. “Madam, you haven’t eaten for days. Your body is too weak… it couldn’t withstand the strain of pregnancy. The child… couldn’t be saved.”

I stared blankly at the top of the fur-draped tent, then slowly reached toward my abdomen.

It was empty.

That should have been our child—the last fragile thread holding this shattered union together.

Tears slipped down silently, each drop sharper than any scream.

Perhaps the baby had already sensed the fracture in our bond, and chose to leave early—

to escape this pack that had long since lost its warmth.

The healer sighed softly. “You must rest. Where is your mate? He should be here with you.”

I swallowed the storm rising in my throat, forcing my voice into flat, colorless calm.

“I have no mate.”

Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. Then I asked quietly, “What’s the shortest time I can stay here?”

“Three days,” she answered.

“Three days will be enough.” I nodded. That was the deadline I gave myself.

And just then, the flap of the tent lifted open.

Alpha Cole strode into the healer’s tent, breath uneven, a sheen of anxious sweat still clinging to his face.

“You came?” I asked coolly, my tone flat.

The messenger beside him started to explain, but before he could utter a word, Diana appeared from behind him—draped in the silver ceremonial robe she had worn to the Moon Banquet. Her smile was cold, gleaming like the blade of a dagger.

“Eliza, isn’t this a bit dramatic for a little wound?” she drawled. “You grew up on the border—when did you become so delicate?”

Alpha Cole frowned but didn’t rebuke her. Instead, he walked to my bedside. His eyes rested on my pale face, and his voice softened slightly. “When did you become so stubborn? You should’ve told me if you were unwell.”

My fingers curled beneath the fur blanket. Watching his composed, reasonable expression, I almost laughed.

Tell him?

Hadn’t he been with Diana these past few days?

Hadn’t he ordered my fasting—his version of “discipline”?

What kind of Alpha was that? What kind of love was left to expect?

Quietly, I said, “You’re busy. I don’t want to bother you.”

For a fleeting moment, something flickered in his eyes—guilt, perhaps. Maybe that was why, over the next few days, he came to the healer’s tent every day to “check on me.”

But I knew better. It wasn’t love. It was pity.

When the day came for me to leave the camp, I packed in silence.

The communication stone pulsed faintly in my hand—I was sending my last message to Reid, confirming the time of my departure.

“Eliza, who are you contacting?” Alpha Cole reached for my stone.

I smiled coldly, pulling it back. “Do you really need to read a woman’s private messages?”

He froze, then said nothing.

“Enough with that thing. I’ll take you back to the main keep.”

“Alright.”

When we returned, the air in the fortress still carried the faint scent of Diana’s perfume.

I didn’t linger. I walked straight to the study.

Opening the stone vault, I carefully placed the healer’s diagnostic scroll on the top shelf.

Then I took out a black leather-bound notebook and turned to the final page.

My hand trembled slightly as I wrote:

[The hundredth disappointment: my child is gone.]

When I finished, I closed the notebook.

On the desk lay three neatly arranged scrolls—

the Dissolution of the Mate Bond,

the Resignation of the Deputy Chief,

and the Miscarriage Report.

They were my anniversary gifts to Alpha Cole.

I packed my bag, placed the keys to the keep on the dining table, and wiped my fingerprint from the rune-lock at the door.

The latch clicked softly behind me. I turned once, gazing at the place that had once echoed with laughter and warmth.

Now, it held nothing but silence and cold.

In a whisper, I said, “Goodbye.”

Lifting my pack, I stepped into the night.

Behind me, the fireworks had long since burned out only the wind remained.