In the days after, everything I ate came back up.

My stomach emptied until there was nothing left. Not even bile. So I stopped eating.

With what little money I had left, I contacted the Witch and booked the Moonreturn Rite for after my death.

I called Daisy too. Told her when I died, she was to take my body back to Stormcrown Pack.

Even dead, I wasn't staying on Eric's land. I didn't want him anywhere near where I'd rest.

While I could still stand, I went into the human town and took a portrait at a photography studio.

Proof I'd existed.

The day I picked it up, I ran into Eric and Velda outside the mall.

Velda had designer bags hooked over her arm, pressed into his side.

Eric looked at me and frowned, eyes cold. "Zara, hauling that fat body around just to follow me—don't you get tired?"

I pulled my coat tighter.

No fight left in me. I turned to walk away.

"Who said you could go?"

He grabbed me.

We struggled. The kraft envelope slipped from my hands.

The photo slid out.

My face stared back—gray. Empty.

Eric glanced down and ground it under his shoe.

"New stunt? Cursing yourself to death now?" His voice was ice. "You'll do anything for my attention."

I looked at my portrait, smeared into the dirt. My voice shook. "Move your foot."

"What, you addicted to playing victim?"

He pressed harder, then flicked it into the filthy drain beside us.

"Zara, last warning. Don't pull this crap again."

He slid an arm around Velda and walked off.

She hung back half a step.

When she passed me, she leaned in, voice low enough for only me to hear.

"Cute death portrait. But..."

Her eyes dragged over my swollen face. "At your size, better order an extra-large urn."

She laughed and caught up to him.

I stood there, watching my photo float in the dirty water.

That's exactly how I existed in his heart.

Back in Moonveil territory, I curled up on the couch.

I remembered a hunt years ago. A branch scratched me. Barely anything.

Eric almost wiped out a rogue den over it.

He wouldn't eat. Stayed up all night guarding me, licking the cut like I'd shatter.

Now I'm dying.

And he still thinks I'm faking it.

My phone lit up, snapping me out of it.

A video from Velda.

Eric kissing her. Then a string of intimate bed photos.

I scrolled past, face blank.

Then the next picture loaded.

A hidden cave. Its entrance was overgrown with Moongrass we had planted with our own hands.

Our den. The place we survived.

Before we had territory. When other wolves drove us out, that cave carried us through every winter.

Velda sent a message:

[It's mine now.]

I ran out of Moonveil territory like I'd lost it.

By the time I reached the cave, wolves were already ripping it apart.

"Stop! What are you doing?!"

I rushed them. Too late.

The carved marks on the stone wall—our heights as pups, the tallies from our first hunts—

Gone.

Every piece of my past with Eric smashed to dust.

This was the last clean place in my heart.

Now it was ruined.

Something in me snapped.

I grabbed a stick and swung at them. "Get out! All of you, get out!"

My eyes burned red. I threw everything I had into it.

"Oh my Moon Goddess... Luna's lost it." The wolves backed up, whispering.

"Zara, what are you doing?"

I hadn't even noticed when Eric got there. He stood behind me, watching like I was a headache.

"Why are you destroying this place?" I pointed at the rubble. Tears finally fell. "Do you even know what this cave means to me—"

"Velda is with pup. She needs somewhere absolutely quiet." His voice was flat, like we were talking about a storage shed. "The healer said this cave gathers moonlight. It's good for nurturing a pup."

"There are tons of luxury houses in the territory! Why this cave?!" I roared. "This was our home. Our past!"

He didn't explain.

"Isn't it just a broken den?"

Disgust flickered in his eyes.

"Zara, you're overreacting. As Luna, you should think about the she-wolves. Pups are our future. You're being selfish."

Selfish?

I looked at him.

Almost dying at his side was selfish. Losing my womb for him was selfish. Wanting to keep the last piece of us was selfish.

I cried. Then I started laughing.

"Fine." I nodded and wiped my face. "Take it. From now on, whatever you want—I won't interfere."

I turned and walked away.

Back at the house, I pulled out everything that was ours.

Wedding photos from the human world. Matching mugs. Couple pajamas.

I dumped it all into the fireplace.

If he didn't care about our past, neither would I.

The flames climbed, devoured it all.

When the last piece turned to ash, I called the witch.

"I want to forcefully sever my mate bond."

I kept my voice steady when I met her. "I want the cleanest break. Even if he stands right in front of me, he won't feel anything through the mate bond. And make sure he never knows you did it."

The witch stared at me. "Zara, forcefully breaking a soul contract will cut your life short. In your condition... if you do this, the half month you have left could turn into three days."

"Three days is enough."

As long as I was free from him, even one day would be worth it.

She shook her head but honored my choice.

The ritual began.

The agony of my wolf tearing apart was a hundred times worse than the silver poison.

I clenched my teeth and watched the silver totem on my wrist—our bond mark—fade, piece by piece... until nothing.

I wanted to tell him the bond was gone.

I gave him his freedom.

The mind link was blocked.

So I called.

Again.

Again.

Finally, it connected.

"Oh, Eric... you're amazing..."

Velda's syrupy moan spilled through the speaker, tangled with a male wolf's rough breathing.

"Tell me—do you love me more, or that fat pig Zara?"

"Why bring her up? Let me—"

"No. Answer me, babe."

"Of course you, my baby... be good..."

The filthy sounds filled my ears.

I hung up.

I pulled out the journal wrapped in beast hide and flipped to the last page.

My hand shook as I wrote the final line.

[The wolf who promised me meat died that winter.]

I closed the journal, set it by the bed, and lay down. Sleep pulled me under.

Full moon.

The silver poison erupted.

My body went violent. Pain curled me into a ball. Black blood poured from my eyes, nose, and ears. My skin shriveled and darkened, like a rotting branch.

My consciousness thinned.

Through the haze, I saw the frozen north.

A snow-white wolf ran toward me, a deer leg in his mouth.

"Zara, look! I got meat! From now on I'll give it all to you—I'll make you my little chubby wolf..."

I closed my eyes.

And stopped breathing.

***

Third-Person POV

Moonveil's territory was dead silent.

Zara's heart had stopped.

Daisy didn't make it in time.

"You liar... You promised. There were still two weeks left..."

She covered her face and broke.

No one answered.

Per Zara's last wish, Daisy carried her back to Stormcrown territory.

Meanwhile, at a human resort, just as Eric reached for Velda, his heart slammed hard in his chest.

Terror and emptiness hit him all at once, like something had been ripped out of his wolf.

He grabbed his chest and stared at the full moon outside the window. 'Why... does it hurt this much?'

The silver mate bond totem on his wrist—the one that had been there for seven years—vanished.

Just like that.

Eric knew.

"Zara! You actually dared to break the bond!"

He pressed a hand to his chest, fury spiking.

A wolf's mate bond was sacred. It only ended in death—or by paying a brutal price to rip it apart.

"To make me turn back, you'd really go this far?"

Velda tried to cling to him. He shoved her off, grabbed his coat, and stormed out of the resort.

He drove like hell, straight for home, their cold war forgotten.

One thought on repeat—find Zara. Now.

And demand what kind of madness she thought she was pulling.

"Zara! Get the hell out here!"

He kicked the door open. His roar tore through the empty hall.

Silence.

The house felt wrong. Hollow. She was gone—and so was her scent.

"What the hell?!"

He stormed into the bedroom. The bed was perfectly made, like no one had touched it.

He kicked the nightstand over. A bone dagger slid out.

The one he'd carved for her when she came of age.

Rage ripped through him.

She used to treasure it more than her life. And now she just left it?

"Even your little stunt is sloppy."

He kicked the dagger straight into the still-burning fireplace.

Just then, his phone lit up.

Daisy.

He answered. Before he could speak, her voice came through, shaking and thick with tears.

"Eric... can you bring Zara's favorite dagger? She said she had to take it with her after she died. I forgot..."