Every sentence struck Liora like a blade, slicing deep and leaving wounds she knew would never truly heal.

For a heartbeat, she wondered if her ears had betrayed her—if her mind was simply refusing to accept what Kaelen had just hurled at her. The words echoed cruelly, heavy with malice, and she struggled to reconcile them with the man she had loved for most of her life.

How could someone who once swore to protect her speak with such venom?

She slowly lifted her head. What she saw made her chest seize.

Kaelen stood squarely in front of Marcella, his broad frame instinctively shielding her, his posture unmistakably defensive. That familiar stance was like a cruel mockery of the past. It dragged Liora straight back to her childhood—back to the days when Marcella’s mother, Aurelia, had clawed her way into the pack as a mistress, forcing Liora’s mother, Eveline, into the shadows. Back then, Liora had endured endless humiliation and quiet cruelty, while her father, Alaric, pretended not to see any of it.

And every single time, it had been Kaelen—living just beyond the boundary of their territory—who had come running.

He was the one who stood between her and the world, baring his fangs when others crossed the line. He had demanded fairness, pulled Liora into his arms when she cried, and whispered reassurance when she felt small and unwanted.

Whenever Liora doubted herself, Kaelen would cup her face and say with unwavering certainty,

“Liora, you’re the best person I know. If they don’t want you, then I do. No matter what happens, I’ll always be on your side. I’ll protect you.”

Those words had once been her anchor.

But time had a way of eroding even the strongest promises. The vows of their youth had faded into nothing but distant echoes, hollow and meaningless.

Now, the instinct to protect—the loyalty she once believed belonged to her—was being offered to Marcella instead. To the very person who had torn her world apart.

Liora tried to steady herself, to keep her spine straight and her pride intact, but the tears betrayed her, spilling freely no matter how hard she fought them. Her heart felt flayed open, raw and exposed, and for the first time, she couldn’t find a single word to defend herself.

Seeing her crumble like that seemed to shake Kaelen. His expression faltered, guilt flashing briefly across his features. His gaze avoided her eyes, drifting instead to her feet, where blood stained the floor.

“You’re injured?” he asked quietly.

Even now, after everything, he still couldn’t bring himself to be completely cold toward her.

Kaelen let out a low sigh, weariness and regret weighing down his voice. “Forget it. Let’s pretend tonight never happened. We were drunk. It was all nonsense. From tomorrow on—”

“There is no tomorrow for us,” Liora cut in, her voice barely audible.

“What?” Kaelen frowned.

He sensed it then—something had shifted irrevocably inside her. Something he hadn’t prepared for.

But the chaos of the night had drained him. His thoughts were tangled entirely around Marcella, leaving no space for Liora anymore.

Before he could speak again, a trembling sob broke through the tension.

“Sister… do you really hate me that much?” Marcella cried, her voice shaking. “Was sending me abroad not enough? Now you want to push me to my death too? Fine—if dying means I won’t be a burden to Brother Kaelen anymore, then I’ll do it!”

Her words detonated like thunder.

Liora hadn’t even finished processing them when Marcella suddenly turned and ran toward the road.

The streets were empty, the night thick with silence, but panic surged through Kaelen without warning. He didn’t hesitate—not even for a second. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, his only instinct to chase after her.

In his blind rush, he slammed into Liora.

She was thrown hard onto the ground. Sharp gravel tore into her already injured skin, pain flaring so violently it stole the breath from her lungs.

The impact, the exhaustion, the weight of everything she had endured—her strength finally gave out. She lay there, unable even to cry.

Ten years.

Ten years of love, devotion, and belief—wasted.

It had never been equal. Never mutual. A childhood bond could not compete with a love born of longing and regret. She had never stood a chance against the woman Kaelen had carried in his heart all along.

After what felt like an eternity, Liora forced herself upright. Gritting her teeth, she dragged her injured leg behind her as she made her way back to her room.

Inside, she cleaned the blood from her feet in silence. Then, without hesitation, she gathered the wedding decorations she had chosen so carefully—each piece once filled with hope—and threw them away.

Her eyes lingered on the wedding countdown hanging in the living room. She paused, her chest tightening.

Then she exhaled softly and tore off the word wedding.

In its place, she silently marked the days until she would leave.

There was so much to pack. She worked through the night, time blurring together, until exhaustion finally dragged her into an uneasy sleep around four in the morning.

Just three hours later, her phone rang sharply, ripping her from her dreams.

“Liora, are you awake?” Kaelen’s voice came through the line. “I ordered your favorite soup. I won’t be coming back today. Let’s postpone the wedding photoshoot. There’s an emergency at the company, and I can’t step away.”

Liora pressed her fingers to her aching temples, her throat dry and sore. “Okay,” she replied simply.

Her immediate agreement—and perhaps the quiet sorrow she failed to conceal—seemed to unsettle him. Kaelen hesitated, his tone softening, as though he sensed the distance growing between them… and didn’t know how to close it.

“Don’t keep replaying yesterday in your head,” Kaelen said over the phone, his tone brisk, as if settling an inconvenience. “I already apologized to Marcella for you.”

“Alright,” Liora replied evenly.

“She thinks weddings are nothing but pageantry,” he continued. “There’s no need to make a fuss. Our mate bond is solid—no rituals or ceremonies are needed to prove that. We’ll keep everything minimal.”

“Do whatever you think is best,” Liora said softly.

By then, her choice had already been made.

This mating ceremony would likely be the most stripped-down one the packs had ever seen.

No ceremonial photos beneath the moon.

No registration with the elders.

No officiating alpha.

And in the end—no bride.

Once the call ended, Liora straightened. Without hesitation, she picked up a thick marker and crossed out Wedding Photoshoot on her calendar, the ink cutting decisively through the words.

Kaelen had always belonged more to his work than to anything else, and Liora had learned long ago not to interrupt him when he was busy. When she began planning the ceremony, she’d bought a special lunar calendar, filling each square with careful notes and quiet hopes. Every date represented a promise she wanted to keep, a dream she believed would finally come true—a once-in-a-lifetime moment she thought she was building toward.

Now, all of that disappeared beneath heavy strokes of black ink, smothered by regret and silence, leaving behind a hollow ache she didn’t bother naming.

She exhaled slowly and looked around the room. The crimson wedding banners and silver charms glared back at her, mocking her with their brightness. It took her the rest of the day to dismantle what she had so carefully arranged—pulling down decorations, folding fabrics, erasing the evidence of a dream that no longer belonged to her.

By nightfall, however, Kaelen’s name was everywhere.

“To make his beloved smile, the Alpha CEO spends eight million on a rare antique pearl brooch.”

The image attached was blurry, but the woman at his side was assumed to be Liora.

A quiet, bitter laugh slipped from her throat.

So this was where the funds meant for their ceremony had gone.

Strangely, the realization didn’t hurt as much as she expected. Somewhere along the way, Liora had already closed the door on the sorrow tied to Kaelen.

In the days that followed, he never came home.

Liora didn’t ask where he was. She didn’t prepare meals or leave messages like she used to. Instead, she submitted her resignation, said her farewells to a handful of trusted coworkers, and began quietly telling her friends that she would soon be leaving the country—and the pack lands altogether.

They exchanged looks, their shared sigh heavy with understanding.

“We thought this might happen,” one of them admitted gently.

Without another word, another friend opened Kaelen’s social feed and handed the phone to Liora.

“To outsiders, it probably looks like this is you,” she said carefully. “But we all know… it’s Marcella.”

Only then did everything fully settle into place.

Kaelen had been with Marcella the entire time.

Though he rarely posted anything before, his updates had suddenly become frequent—one after another, all centered around her. They went to amusement parks, wandered through ceremonial shops trying on mating attire, and watched the moon rise together from the peak of a mountain.

His affection wasn’t subtle. It was laid bare for the world to see.

The only thing he’d done to conceal it was block Liora from seeing any of it.

Her friends grew quiet, unease filling the space between them.

“Liora… are you holding up?” one finally asked, worry threading through her voice.

“There’s no point crying over someone like him,” another added quickly. “Kaelen doesn’t deserve you. One day, when Marcella shows her true nature, he’ll regret everything.”

Liora smiled faintly, her gaze drifting to the bustling street beyond the window, where life went on as if nothing had changed.

“It’s alright,” she said calmly. “I really don’t care anymore.” After a pause, she added softly, “But I do need your help with something…”

In just a few days, she would leave this place for good, severing herself from the past entirely. There was no time left to drown in grief over Kaelen.

When he finally returned home after days of silence, Liora felt nothing.

She remained distant, her cool indifference slicing cleanly through the lingering tension. Kaelen, meanwhile, seemed lost in his own world. Even after stepping inside, his attention never wavered from the glowing screen in his hand, his fingers moving rapidly as he typed—completely oblivious to the woman standing only a few steps away.

Liora remained seated beside him, quiet and composed, her laptop balanced neatly on her knees as she copied the surveillance footage onto a small silver USB drive. She moved with deliberate calm, every click precise. In her mind, she already pictured the parting gift she planned to leave behind—something unforgettable, something that would linger long after she was gone.

Midway through the transfer, Kaelen suddenly lifted his head, his sharp wolf senses sweeping through the house. His brows knit together slightly. “Why does it feel so… bare in here?” he asked, glancing around. “Didn’t you put up the decorations?”

“You said we shouldn’t make a fuss,” Liora replied evenly.

She wasn’t bothered. She knew better than anyone that Kaelen’s attention no longer lingered on anything that didn’t revolve around Marcella. Still, this time, his gaze paused on the countdown calendar hanging in the living room. A small chuckle escaped him.

“Funny how time works,” he said lightly. “Only seven days left until the ceremony.”

Liora closed her laptop and rose to her feet. Walking over to the calendar, she reached up and tore away two pages in one swift motion.

“It’s five days now,” she corrected calmly.

The torn pages fluttered to the floor. Written on them were two handwritten wishes: Ride the Ferris wheel together and Watch the stars side by side. Each one struck quietly, cruelly—because Kaelen had already done both of those things, just not with her.

A strange sensation flickered through Kaelen’s chest, brief but sharp, like the shadow of a memory slipping through his claws. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but before he could, Liora’s phone vibrated.

She glanced at the screen, her mother’s name lighting up the display. “Excuse me,” she said softly, stepping out onto the balcony.

By the time she returned, Kaelen had already retreated into his own world, eyes fixed on his phone, fingers moving quickly—no doubt immersed in a conversation with Marcella.

“Who was that?” he asked absentmindedly. “I thought I heard something about visas.”

“Just work,” Liora answered lightly, waving it off.

He visibly relaxed. “Good. Don’t go planning any trips after the ceremony. I won’t have time for a honeymoon.”

“I know,” she replied quietly.

Ever since Marcella came back, Kaelen couldn’t stand being away from her for long—not even a single night. There was no room left in his life for anyone else.

They sat together in silence, the air growing heavier by the second. Kaelen shifted in his seat, an unshakable restlessness settling in his gut, foreign and uncomfortable.

Liora had always been like this—gentle, restrained, carrying herself with an elegance forged through necessity rather than ease. She never lashed out, never demanded attention like other she-wolves might.

But Kaelen knew that calm was something she had learned, not chosen. A shield she’d perfected over time.

Beneath it, she was still the same girl—fragile, starved for affection, always waiting for love that rarely came.

Before, every time he came home, she would run to him, eyes bright, arms wrapping around him as she eagerly recounted her day. She would talk endlessly, filling the space with warmth and sound, never caring whether he truly listened.

Now, the silence roared.

It pressed against him, wrong and unsettling. Finally, Kaelen put his phone aside and looked at her properly.

“You’ve done so much preparing for the ceremony,” he began. “Once it’s over—”

Liora interrupted him, her voice calm but sharp. “Where’s your ring?”

He stiffened. “The ring?” He hesitated. “I… don’t know. I probably misplaced it.”

The memory surfaced against his will. That night—Marcella seeing the ring, her expression darkening. He’d taken it off to soothe her, setting it aside carelessly, never bothering to retrieve it.

Kaelen opened his mouth, guilt flickering in his eyes, ready to explain—but Liora spoke first, dismissive and detached.

“If it’s gone, then it’s gone. Just buy another one.”

She didn’t wait for a response.

In her heart, she already knew how the story would end. After she left, that replacement ring wouldn’t be meant for her. Kaelen would choose something exquisite—something perfect—for Marcella instead.

This ring, their ring, had been doomed the moment Marcella returned. Whether it disappeared now or later made no difference at all.

Kaelen had long taken Liora’s patience for granted—her endless tolerance, her willingness to bend until she nearly broke.

But her indifference now unsettled him deeply. It felt as though he hadn’t just lost a ring, but something far more precious, something he couldn’t name.

The unease clawed at him, persistent and unfamiliar. And for the first time, Kaelen resolved to do something—anything—to fix what was slipping from his grasp.