We put our hopes to the moon goddess and waited patiently for the healer. Noah was trembling in my arms, and every shallow breath he took chipped away at my sanity. The fever that had gripped his tiny body was relentless, and nothing I did could ease his suffering. Every second felt like a lifetime. The silence in the room was thick, suffocating, broken only by the occasional, ragged gasp from my son.

“Why isn't he here yet?” Delia muttered under her breath, pacing back and forth, her eyes flicking towards the door as if willing the healer to appear.

The sun dipped below the horizon, its final light casting long shadows across the floor. But still, no healer. By the time he arrived, it was too late. I already knew. I could feel it in my bones. Noah’s body had gone still, unnaturally still. The pain had left him, and with it, the light from my world.

The healer, Martin, rushed in, his face flushed with urgency. But one look at my face and his steps faltered. "Luna, I’m so—"

“Don’t,” I cut him off, my voice hollow. “It wasn’t your fault.”

And it wasn’t. Noah’s illness wasn’t something a healer could fix. I had clung to hope, to the belief that somehow, something could be done. But whatever had taken hold of him was beyond anything Martin or any other healer could have managed. If I had been stronger, smarter—if I had gotten specialists to check on him earlier—maybe Noah would still be here. But those thoughts were useless now. He was gone.

My throat constricted as I clutched Noah’s cold hand, the tiny fingers I used to stroke to lull him to sleep now stiff with death. I had brought him into this world, and all I had done was watch him suffer. I failed him. My sweet, innocent boy.

I wailed. It was the kind of sound that comes from the deepest part of you, the kind that steals your breath and leaves you gasping for air that no longer feels worth taking in. I clung to his body, wanting nothing more than to follow him. He deserved a better life than this. A life full of laughter, not pain.

Delia stood beside me, her own tears flowing silently down her cheeks, and Martin’s head hung low. They were grieving too, but I barely registered them through the haze of my sorrow.

At some point, the tears dried up, though my heart still felt like it was bleeding. I rose on shaky legs, my body feeling like a ghost of itself. I needed to find Garett. He had to know. Maybe, somehow, this would snap him out of whatever had consumed him lately. He had to feel something, right?

But I found Ben first. “Where’s Garett?” I demanded, my voice hoarse from crying.

“He’s not here, Vivian. He just left,” Ben said awkwardly, glancing away as if the words tasted bad in his mouth. “Fiona was poisoned with wolfsbane. He took her to the hospital.”

The world seemed to tilt around me, and for a moment, I thought I might pass out.

Fiona. It was always Fiona. He let our son die, but he would burn the world down for her. Fury rose up inside me like a tidal wave, fierce and uncontrollable. I wanted to scream, to tear something apart, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain that was shredding me from the inside out.

Instead, I felt myself shrinking. Smaller and smaller. It hit me like a punch to the gut—I had no one. I had lost my family to rogues, and now, my only light in this miserable existence was gone too. All I had left was an estranged mate who couldn’t care less and a snake disguised as a relative. The pressure of it all crashed down on me, and before I could take another breath, the darkness pulled me under.

When I woke, Delia was by my side, her face pale with worry. “You’ve been out for a couple of days,” she said softly, as though speaking any louder might break me. “I... I prepared a dress for the funeral. The Alpha hasn’t come back, and I didn’t know what to do.”

I sighed. Of course, he hadn’t. He couldn’t be bothered with his son’s funeral, not when Fiona needed him. The thought stung, but I was too tired to feel the full force of my anger anymore. Noah deserved peace. I couldn’t leave him waiting just because his father didn’t care enough to show up.

“Tell Martin we’ll do it,” I murmured. “Just us. The people who actually cared.”

We buried Noah deep in the forest, away from prying eyes. There were no grand ceremonies, no speeches, no guests. Just us, and the quiet of the woods. I said my final goodbyes, my voice barely more than a whisper. And just like that, three days of mourning passed in a blur of grief and exhaustion.

I stood in the backyard, staring blankly at the line of trees bordering the pack’s land. The forest that now held my son’s grave. The air was still, the quiet almost peaceful, but it didn’t reach me. My mind was as numb as my heart.

Then Garett’s voice cut through the silence. His mind-link was cold, detached. "Bring Fiona some orange juice to the sunroom."

The first sentence he said to me in a while was to get his mistress an orange juice.

My heart pulsed with fury, each beat a reminder of the gaping emptiness Garett had carved in our lives. No word about Noah, no apology—just a demand, as if my grief, my pain, were beneath his notice. I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to breathe, my fists curling tightly at my sides.

I took my time heading to the sunroom. Not because I wanted to follow his ridiculous order, but because, for the first time, I allowed myself to truly feel the anger that had been simmering beneath my sorrow. When I reached the kitchen, I didn’t make the juice myself. Instead, I looked at one of the maids—one of the same people I had been afraid to give orders to in this wretched pack—and simply said, “Make it. He wants it now.”

It was strange, almost freeing, to see the maid’s startled expression as she scurried away to fulfill my command. I had always played the part of the obedient Luna, biting my tongue to avoid Garett’s wrath, but today, I was done. Today, I would not bend for him.

By the time I reached the sunroom, I could hear Garett’s snarls through the door. He was berating the maid, his voice sharp with impatience.

“Fetch Vivian!” he barked. “Now!”

I sneered. How fitting. The great Alpha, barking orders for me to serve him while our son rotted in the ground.

I opened the door with casual indifference, refusing to show the storm brewing inside me. Garett turned, his expression immediately twisting into one of disdain when he saw me. His eyes swept over my black funeral dress, and he scoffed, the sound cruel and mocking.

“What kind of ploy is this now, Vivian?” His voice dripped with contempt. “You’re not fooling anyone with your theatrics. What are you trying to manipulate me into this time?”

His words were venomous, each syllable a slap to my face, but I refused to let him see the hurt. I had known the man Garett had become for a long time now. I wasn’t surprised by his cruelty—just hollowed by it.

I glanced over at Fiona, lounging on a chaise, her face was pale, wrapped in blankets Garett had carefully tucked around her. His hand rested gently on her arm, his eyes flickering with concern every time she coughed. As if she were a fragile piece of glass he couldn’t bear to see crack.

The bitter taste of betrayal rose in my throat. He had never looked at me like that, not even when I gave birth to Noah—his supposed son.

I squared my shoulders and met his glare head-on. “I’m not here to play your games, Garett. I’m here because the first thing you did when you came back wasn’t to check on our son. It wasn’t even to ask how I was doing.” My voice was cold, emotionless. “You came back and went straight to her, and then you sent for me—to fetch juice for your mistress.”

Garett’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. “Don’t talk to me about Noah.”

“Why not?” I stepped forward, my voice rising. “You’ve barely acknowledged him since the day he was born! He was dying, Garett, and you couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger—”

“Because he’s *not my son!*” Garett’s roar cut through the room like a whip. His eyes blazed with hatred as he stood, towering over me. “You think I don’t know? I know everything about you, Vivian. Every lie, every scheme. You’ve been trying to manipulate me from the start, trying to trap me with that boy, but it won’t work. It never has.”

His words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the wind from my lungs. He didn’t believe Noah was his. After everything—after all we’d been through, after all the suffering Noah endured—he still denied his own blood.

“Are you crazy?” I yelled. “I’m your mate, Garett! Why would I need to manipulate you?”

“Because you faked it,” he flatly said, making me speechless.

“You regret it that much to believe that, huh?” I whispered, my voice shaking.

Garett’s expression darkened. “Of course I regret it,” he spat. “If I had the power to change our fate, I would’ve chosen Fiona as my fated mate, not you. I would have spared myself the misery of being bound to you.”

A sharp, suffocating pain tore through my chest. His words cut deeper than any wound I had ever felt, deeper than the pain of losing my son. I could handle his indifference, his cruelty, but this—he was tearing apart what little remained of my soul.

I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms. “Noah was your son,” I said through gritted teeth. “No matter what you tell yourself, no matter what lies you’ve convinced yourself of, he was yours.”

Garett scoffed again, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. “You’re pathetic, Vivian. Trying to use him to pull me back in. I’m done with you. We’re done.”

I felt a cold emptiness spread through me as I stared at the man I once thought I loved. He wasn’t the person I had mated with, the person I had trusted. He was a stranger—cruel, bitter, and consumed by his own lies.

My patience finally snapped. The weight of Garett’s indifference, the sting of his accusations, and the constant ache in my heart became too much to bear.

“You’re not the only one who regrets this bond!” I screamed back at him, the words sharp and bitter, tearing at my throat like shards of glass. “This wretched bond disgusts me more than it ever could you.”

Saying those words felt like needles pricking my tongue, each one bringing back memories I wished I could forget. Despite my anger, the image of the night we bonded always lurked in the corners of my mind. He had been kind then, gentle in a way that made me believe there was something real between us, something worth holding on to. But that night had been a lie, a cruel mirage that vanished the moment his true self surfaced. His kindness was fleeting—nothing more than a dream that quickly turned into a nightmare.

The thought of it still made my chest tighten, but I had to push the tears down. I couldn’t afford to look weak, not in front of him. Not when he was watching, waiting for me to break.

The silence that followed was suffocating, thick, and heavy as Garett’s face twisted in fury. But it wasn’t my words that enraged him—it was the fact that I dared to challenge him, the almighty Alpha of Black Ridge. To challenge an Alpha’s dominance was to risk everything, even your life. But I had nothing left to lose. What else could he take from me that he hadn’t already ripped from my hands?

If standing up to him would give me even a moment of relief, I’d do it again. I’d do it a thousand times.

I opened my mouth to speak again, but before I could, Fiona’s delicate cough broke the silence. She leaned forward slightly, her voice soft and trembling, as if she were some fragile, innocent thing caught in the crossfire. “Garett… stop,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “I don’t want you two to fight over me.”

She turned to me, her wide, doe-like eyes brimming with fake tears. “I’m so sorry, Vivian. I was careless… I didn’t mean to steal Noah’s healer. I was poisoned, and—” her voice cracked as she began to sob softly, “I didn’t know.”

Garett rushed to her side, his entire demeanor shifting from anger to concern. He murmured softly to her, his voice gentle, his touch tender. Bile rose in my throat as I witnessed their cringe-worthy performance. He was treating her like she was some kind of delicate flower, while our son had been neglected until his last breath.

The mockery in Fiona’s eyes was plain as day when she glanced at me, but Garett was too blind to see it. Or maybe he didn’t want to see it. She was playing the innocent, guilt-tripping him with every word, and he fell for it, just like always. How could he be so smitten with this vixen?

This made me wonder if Garett had always preferred devious women. But, if that was his type, shouldn’t he have adored the most shrewd woman in his eyes, me. But all I got from him was loathing.

Fiona sniffed, wiping her eyes daintily. “I’m fine now, really,” she added, looking at Garett with a smile. “You should send the healer to check on Noah. I don’t want to cause any more trouble…”

I couldn’t help it. A laugh bubbled up from my chest. It was sharp and deranged. I tried to stop it, but it broke free, filling the room with a sound that was more madness than humor.

“Send the healer?” I laughed again, unable to stop myself. “You bastards really don’t know, do you? No one told you?” My voice rose, the hysteria seeping into every word. “Right. Why would they? Why would anyone care about us when the Alpha treats us worse than shit?”

Garett frowned, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t understand, didn’t know what I was about to say. And for some sick reason, I relished that. I wanted to see his face when the truth hit him.

I wiped the tears from my eyes, still laughing like a madwoman. “Yeah, sure, Garett. Send Noah the healer. Maybe he can perform a miracle and raise him from the dead.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of my words sinking in. Garett’s face paled, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. Fiona, for all her mockery, actually had the decency to look horrified.

But I didn’t care anymore. I was beyond caring.

Without another word, I turned and left the sunroom. My body was numb, my heart hollow. Garett’s voice echoed behind me, but I didn’t listen. I didn’t need to hear it.

I was done.

I had been done for a long time.