Allison’s POV

The faint thump of bass echoed through the walls like a steady heartbeat, each note rattling my desk lamp. Downstairs, the Hawthorn Pack was throwing one of its usual loud parties — another excuse for the Alphas’ sons to parade Trisha around like a fragile little moonflower.

I sat in the dim glow of my bedroom, my fingers cold despite the warmth of the summer air. The phone pressed against my ear felt heavy.

“Allison,” my mother’s voice came soft but firm on the other end, “the threats against you in Plum Blossom are no longer there. Your father and I… we feel it’s time you came home.”

I didn’t reply. My gaze stayed fixed on the half-moon outside my window, glowing over the Hawthorn forest like an omen.

Luna Althea, my mother, hesitated before adding, “We’ve arranged a marriage for you, sweetheart. For your safety… and because you are who you are. You know we’ve always tried to protect you. But the pack’s ready now. Strong enough to keep you safe. So… will you return to Plum Blossom and marry your fiancé?”

Her words settled heavy in my chest, but I stayed silent.

“If you don’t want to,” she continued quickly, “we’ll speak to the other family. We’ll cancel the engagement if that’s what you want, my dear.”

Still silence.

She sighed on the other end, clearly thinking I was about to refuse again — like I always did before.

But this time, something inside me shifted. The quiet realization that there was nothing left here worth fighting for.

I adjusted the phone in my hand and said, calm and even, “I’ll come back and marry him.”

There was a sharp inhale on the other end.

“You… agree?”

“I agree,” I repeated, my tone detached. “But I need a little more time here. A week, at most. I need to finish a few things in Hawthorn before I leave.”

“Allison…” my mother’s voice wavered, full of surprise and relief.

“Go ahead and start the wedding preparations,” I added. “I’ll be home in time.”

We exchanged a few more words — she fussed over details as mothers do — before I hung up.

The music downstairs drifted back into my awareness. Louder now, the crowd singing Happy Birthday.

I didn’t have to wonder for whom. Of course it was for Trisha.

A knock at my door broke me out of my thoughts. I already knew who it would be before I opened it.

There she stood, Trisha — the perfect picture of innocence. Her big doe eyes shining, her dark hair curled just so. She wore a pale sky blue dress that made her look even more fragile than usual, and in her hands… a peanut pie.

I stared at it for half a beat. She knew I was allergic.

“Alli,” she cooed, smiling sweetly. “Sister… I brought you a slice of my birthday pie. Come down and join the party, won’t you?”

Her voice was syrupy, affectionate on the surface but thin enough for me to see right through it.

“No thanks,” I said coldly, folding my arms. “I’ve got work to do. Have fun.”

Her eyes immediately shimmered with unshed tears, her lower lip quivering. “You… don’t like me, do you?” she whispered pitifully. “Is that why you always avoid me?”

I clenched my jaw. Moon above, I hadn’t done anything to this girl — and yet she always managed to look like I’d ripped her heart out.

“Trisha,” I said flatly, “save the act. It might work on Ryan and Warren, but it doesn’t work on me.”

I reached for the door, ready to close it in her face. But her hand shot out, blocking the frame.

“Allison, wait—”

I glared down at her slender fingers pressed to the wood.

“I just… wanted you to have this,” she insisted, holding up the pie again. “Please…”

That was it. My patience snapped. I smacked the plate out of her hands. It shattered on the floor, crumbs scattering.

She gasped theatrically and immediately dropped to her knees, trying to pick up the shards with her bare hands.

Predictably — and probably intentionally — she cut herself.

Her pale hand started to bruise and bleed, and she let out a delicate cry, her tears finally falling.

And of course — because fate hated me — that was the exact moment Ryan and Warren came charging up the stairs.

“Allison!” Warren barked, his sharp voice like a whip crack.

They rushed to Trisha, who whimpered and showed them her injured hand.

Warren rounded on me instantly. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You don’t have to like her, but this? This is petty and cruel!”

Ryan’s eyes met mine, colder than the full moon. “It’s her birthday, Allison,” he said quietly. “You went too far.”

I swallowed down the bitter laugh that threatened to escape. Too far? When she purposely tried to give me something I’m allergic to? Who went too far between the two of us?

Then both of them softened their expressions as they turned back to her.

Ryan crouched, gently cradling her injured fingers. “Does it still hurt? Come on — let me help you clean this up. We’ll get some salve on it.”

Warren knelt beside her too, his expression full of guilt. “Don’t cry, Trisha. After the party, I’ll get you that a fresh deer from the woods. Okay? Anything to cheer you up.”

Trisha sniffled and looked up at them both with watery eyes. “Thank you… both of you.”

Then she turned to Warren, her voice so small and sweet it made me want to vomit. “Warren… don’t go hunting anymore. It’s dangerous. I… I’d worry about you.”

Warren’s shoulders stiffened, but he nodded without hesitation. “If that’s what you want. I’ll stop.”

And just like that, they led her away — one on either side, hovering protectively, utterly devoted.

I stood there in the doorway, the shadows of the hall stretching long around me, watching them disappear down the stairs.

For a moment, I felt like I’d woken from a dream.

Because years ago… it was me standing between them.

I’d grown up here in Hawthorn, sent from Plum Blossom at ten years old because my identity made me a target there and even in the neighboring territories who secretly heard about the news of my awakening. Ryan and Warren had been my world from the first day.

They’d walked me to school, torn up love notes from other wolves, glared at anyone who even thought about asking me to dance.

Even as adults, one on track to be Alpha, the other set to serve the Wolf King himself — they still stayed. Bought the houses next to mine, knocked down the walls so we could all live like one packhouse.

They’d cried when my parents wanted me to go home. “Wherever Allison is,” they’d said, “we’ll be there.”

I stayed because of them.

But that was before Trisha.

Trisha, the shy little Omega whose father had disgraced his bloodline and left her a pariah.

I pitied her once. Took her under my wing.

And she took everything.

Ryan started throwing parties for her, even though he hated crowds. Warren quit hunting at her slightest frown, even though he lived for it.

They stopped competing for me. And started competing for her.

I’d once thought I might choose one of them to stand at my side when I became Luna.

But now? I see things clearly.

I looked at my phone and set a countdown timer. Seven days. Seven days, and I’d be gone.

For good.

From now on, I wouldn’t disturb the three of them anymore. And they could keep their little moonflower.

Allison’s POV

I closed my bedroom door quietly, clicking the latch into place.

The house had fallen into a strange lull after the chaos of the party downstairs. The scent of wolves in heat from dancing, the tang of alcohol, the faint burn of moon-blessed candles — all of it still lingered in the air, even up here.

I crossed to the corner table and dropped the heavy vinyl onto the turntable. A low scratch, then the calming hum of strings and wind instruments filled the room, drowning out what little noise still drifted up from below.

This was how I survived nights in the Hawthorn Pack. With the door locked, the music loud enough to blot out their laughter.

Now that I’d decided to go back to Plum Blossom and marry as my parents wished, I knew I’d have to resign my post here. Being Alpha Caden’s war strategist had been my bargain to remain in Hawthorn — my claws and my mind in exchange for safety.

But I couldn’t leave my wolves in disarray. Even if I was no longer staying, I wouldn’t leave a mess behind. That wasn’t my way.

So I sat at my window as dusk fell, the pack lights blinking on one by one outside, and got to work.

The stack of files was thick — patrol rosters, hunting schedules, border agreements. The kinds of things no one ever thanked you for keeping straight, but everyone noticed when they went wrong.

Hours passed before I finally removed the vinyl and stood. My back cracked when I stretched.

Downstairs was quiet now. The party had ended. The house was still.

For the first time all night, I let myself relax.

I picked up my phone and scrolled aimlessly, letting the silence settle around me. But then…

Trisha’s name popped up.

I froze instinctively. My thumb hovered for just a moment before opening her message.

“Why didn’t you like my posts?”

I blinked at it.

A minute later, another followed, “Sorry, Alli. I sent that by mistake. Please don’t be mad, okay?”

I scoffed softly. She’s too obvious.

Curiosity pricked at me anyway, and I opened her feed to see what had her so eager for my reaction.

And there it was. Several photos of her birthday party gifts, laid out to be admired by anyone with eyes.

The jewelry glimmered even through the screen — a rare crystal from the Moon Forest, rumored to glow only under a full moon. Next to it, a sleek, enchanted bow strung with moonstone beads, each one pulsing faintly with magic. A stack of furs — no doubt from Warren’s endless hours in the woods — tailored into coats soft enough to tempt even the most stoic she-wolf.

At the center of it all stood Trisha herself, her tiny frame flanked by Ryan and Warren, arms hooked through theirs as though she’d been born to belong there.

Her caption sparkled with her usual poisoned sweetness, “Yay, today I got treated like a Luna~”

I stared at the screen for a long moment.

Ah. So that’s what this was about.

Once upon a time, that might have hurt. I might have felt the claws of jealousy sink into my ribs, might have wondered what I’d done wrong to lose the place I’d thought was mine.

But not anymore.

Now?

I only felt… nothing.

Calmly, I tapped the heart. The little red symbol appeared beneath the photo — my way of saying, I’m letting go.

From now on, they could choose her. They could have her. They already had.

And I would let them.

The next morning, I walked into my office and slipped a folded resignation letter into my desk drawer. No drama. No goodbye speeches.

When I left the Alpha’s wing, my heart felt light.

Back at the house, I started packing.

I began with the boxes of memories shoved in my closet — the ones I used to take out on nights when I needed to remind myself why I stayed.

Photos of Ryan and Warren standing tall beside me as children at the border, all three of us muddy and grinning.

Pictures of us as teens winning equestrian tournaments, me still clutching the bouquet they’d given me afterward.

Trips across territories during our university breaks — me asleep on Warren’s shoulder, Ryan snapping the photo with his usual teasing grin.

There were gifts, too. Necklaces, books, old scrapbooks lovingly pieced together by their hands.

The memories were vivid — but they no longer mattered.

One by one, I carried them to the fireplace. The flames took each picture and devoured it eagerly.

The firelight glinted off the gold lettering of old cards before they blackened and curled. I didn’t flinch when the door opened behind me.

Ryan’s voice cut through the crackling fire, low and trembling.

“Alli. What the fuck are you doing?!”

I turned my head slightly, just enough to glance at them over my shoulder.

They were both there.

Ryan, his jaw tight, his fists clenching. Warren, his eyes wide with panic.

“Nothing,” I said simply. “They were getting moldy anyway. Might as well burn them.”

Warren surged forward, snatching for the photos still in my hand.

I didn’t even hesitate. I shook my hand just enough to send the stack fluttering into the fire.

The flames roared higher, leaving no chance to save anything.

“No—!”

Warren’s fingers darted for the burning edge of a photo, but the heat licked at his skin and he jerked back with a hiss, his palm already reddening.

He stared at me, his voice cracking. “Even if they were moldy, you didn’t have to burn them! These are our memories!”

I looked at him then — really looked at him — and almost laughed.

Because here I was. A living, breathing she-wolf who’d stood by them through every season, who’d bled for them, who’d loved them quietly all these years…

And they could hurt me again and again for the sake of someone like Trisha.

But now, just some old photos and charred gifts — and they were heartbroken.

How ironic.

Ryan still stood there silently, his expression tight and pained as he stared into the ashes.

I turned my gaze back to the flames. And I wondered, not without a sharp little smile…

When they found out I’d decided to go back to Plum Blossom to marry… what kind of reaction would they have then?

Allison’s POV

I stood there, still in front of the fireplace, watching the last of the photographs curl and blacken into nothing.

Ryan and Warren didn’t move.

They stood just a few paces away, tense as bowstrings, both of them looking at me like they wanted to scold me, drag the words right out of me — demand to know why.

But I only smiled faintly, the faintest lift of my lips, and let the ash settle where it fell.

“It’s just some pictures,” I said lightly, my tone almost teasing. “And a few old gifts. We can always take new ones later… if you want, you can even give me new gifts in the future.”

They blinked at me, surprised, and I tilted my head toward them. “It’s been a long time since we’ve gone on a proper trip, hasn’t it? Now we finally have a reason to make new memories.”

Ryan latched onto the idea immediately, his eyes softening as he stepped closer. “You’re right,” he said, his voice steady now. “We should plan something. A trip… somewhere far.”

Warren’s shoulders dropped as if he’d been holding his breath. “Yeah,” he said quickly. “That’s a good idea. A break from the usual. And this time…” He hesitated just a beat before adding, “…we should bring Trisha along. You know she’s never been able to vacation like that before. Not after what happened to her family.”

For a moment, my breath hitched in my chest.

I let out a faint laugh — bitter and sharp — though they couldn’t hear the thorns in it.

And they mistook it for agreement.

Both of them visibly relaxed, as though my little smile and that hollow laugh meant I’d forgiven them.

I didn’t correct them.

Ryan even gave me a small, relieved grin. Warren ruffled his own hair and said softly, “Good. I hate when you’re mad at us.”

They stepped further into the room then, the tension draining from them like they’d passed some unspoken test.

But then they both froze. Their eyes landed on the stacked suitcases by the wall — neat and ready, like soldiers waiting for orders.

Those hadn’t been there this morning.

They spoke at the same time. “What’s that?”

I followed their gaze and then looked back at them, my tone just as casual as before.

“Oh,” I said. “I quit being your father’s strategist. Change of career path. Something different this time.” The words hung there, heavy.

Ryan’s brow furrowed deeply, and Warren’s jaw went slack as he stared at me. I could see the confusion in their eyes. I’d loved that job. Everyone knew it. I’d poured everything into it.

Why suddenly quit?

Why now?

They exchanged an uneasy glance, like two wolves who’ve caught the faintest scent of blood but can’t yet find the source.

Warren opened his mouth, clearly about to press me for more — but before he could, Ryan’s phone buzzed sharply in his pocket.

He snatched it up and answered, and the moment Trisha’s frantic voice came through, I knew what was coming. It was on loudspeaker — I could hear every soft, pitiful note of it.

“Ry… I don’t feel good. My wolf isn’t responding… I’m so scared. What should I do?”

I didn’t even look at them, but I heard the way Warren’s breath caught. He didn’t even wait for Ryan to answer. He shifted on the spot, fur rippling through his skin as his wolf form erupted out of him. He growled low, and then barked out —

“Don’t be afraid, Trisha! I’m coming right now!”

Ryan’s eyes darted to me briefly, his expression conflicted, but only for a second.

Then he shifted too, his golden fur catching the light of the dying fire.

They bolted out the door together, leaving nothing but pawprints and the faint scent of their wolves in the room behind them.

Neither of them spared me more than a passing glance. I stayed there, still as stone, staring at the doorway long after they’d gone.

When my phone rang, I already knew who it was before I saw his name.

I answered, pressing the screen to my ear.

“Allison,” Alpha Caden said, his deep voice somber. “I found your letter on my desk.”

I closed my eyes and sat on the arm of the couch, letting the quiet settle between us.

“You’ve always done good work here,” he continued. “You’ve kept my pack safe. And you never once asked for more than what you needed. So tell me… what happened? Why are you quitting?”

I drew in a slow breath, the words coming out steady.

“It’s time, Alpha,” I murmured. “It’s time for me to stop running from who I am… and go back to face it. Back to Plum Blossom. Back to… my duty.”

I didn’t mention the marriage.

Not yet.

“You’re really leaving?” His voice sounded heavy, tired. “So soon? Do Ryan and Warren know?”

“They don’t,” I admitted quietly. “And please… help me keep it a secret. At least for now. I don’t want to cause more trouble.”

He sighed — a long, resigned sound that reminded me just how old he really was.

“You know how those two feel about you, Allison. Everyone always thought you’d pick one of them in the end.”

I smiled faintly, though there was no joy in it.

“There’s nothing to pity, Alpha,” I said softly. “You know what I am. What I’ll always be. No Alpha would truly want someone like me at his side. And as for my fated mate…”

I let the words fade.

We both knew that was a dream long dead. He didn’t try to persuade me anymore.

“Come see me before you go,” he said finally. “We may not see each other again for a long time.”

“I will,” I promised.

Before we hung up, he added one more thing.

“You’ve earned more than my respect these past few years. Consider this a small gesture of thanks — your award for your service will be delivered this afternoon. Don’t refuse it.”

I smiled faintly again, though he couldn’t see it.

“I won’t.”

When the knock came later that afternoon, I expected a courier, perhaps one of the pack messengers.

But when I opened the door… Trisha stood there, holding the award meant for me.