At two in the morning, Scarlett sent me photos.

The first: Rocco on one knee in the plaza below his office building, holding a bouquet of white roses and gazing up lovingly at the building's facade.

The second: A silhouette of them running in the moonlight, her in a white dress, him chasing after her.

The third: A candid shot from that very afternoon, of them embracing in his office.

I put down my phone and walked to the window.

In the distance, the commercial tower was still ablaze with light, the show still playing on a loop.

So that was it.

What my colleagues thought was an "anniversary surprise" was actually Rocco's public declaration of love for Scarlett.

I picked up my phone and replied: "Congratulations."

Then I blocked her number.

Eight days until my flight.

The next morning, I received a mass message from Rocco's assistant: "The Alpha is participating in a five-day, inter-pack hunting competition. He'll be out of contact."

Five days.

Just enough time for me to handle everything.

I called a moving company immediately.

"You want everything moved?" one of the movers asked.

"Everything that's mine," I said, pointing to the boxes I had already packed. "This is all of it."

Six years of a relationship, all packed away into a dozen cardboard boxes.

The irony was bitter.

"What about the furniture and decorations?" the mover asked, gesturing to the loveseat and the photos on the wall.

I glanced at the pieces I had once so carefully chosen, each one a vessel for my hopes for our home.

"Leave them."

Those things belonged to "us." Now that "we" no longer existed, they were meaningless.

After the moving truck drove away, I stood in the empty den for one last look.

Then I closed the door and walked away without looking back.

For the next few days, I stayed in a hotel downtown, taking care of my affairs.

Separating bank accounts, changing insurance beneficiaries, terminating contracts.

On the fourth day, I was in my father's study discussing the final details of the marriage alliance when I got a call from Jessica, the receptionist at Rocco's company.

"Luna Caterina, a package arrived for you, but since you weren't home, the courier brought it to the office," Jessica said, her voice bright with excitement. "It's a huge, beautiful box!"

I frowned. "What is it?"

"It has the Blackwood Pack's crest on it. It must be something important. The Alpha isn't here, so we didn't dare do anything with it."

The Blackwood Pack?

It must be the ceremonial gown for the new Luna.

"I understand. Thank you."

After hanging up, a sense of dread washed over me.

If Rocco saw that gown…

Sure enough, that afternoon, I received a furious call from him.

"Caterina!"

He was practically roaring, his Alpha's rage so potent I could feel it through the phone.

"Get your ass to my office. Now."

I could hear the sound of things shattering in the background. It sounded like he was destroying his office.

I glanced at my watch. Four days until my flight.

"Fine. I'm on my way."

I threw the door to Rocco's office open with a resounding crash.

He stood with his back to me, staring out the floor-to-ceiling window, radiating a dangerous aura.

On his desk, the exquisite white box had been torn open. Inside, the Luna's ceremonial gown lay in a cascade of deep blue silk and silver embroidery, its patterns of moons and stars glittering in the light.

It was a gown worn only for the most sacred of Luna coronation ceremonies.

"What is this? A Luna gown?" Rocco turned slowly, his eyes blazing with fury. "Don't play dumb, Caterina. Who is he? What Alpha do you think could possibly replace me?"

I remained calm. "That has nothing to do with you."

"Nothing to do with me?" He sneered. "Then who are you wearing it for? That Damon?"

The name seemed to push him over the edge. He strode toward me, each step heavy with an Alpha's absolute authority. "You think finding a replacement will threaten me? Caterina, you are so naive."

"I'm telling you," he seethed, "he would never take another Alpha's marked woman. Not even if you were standing naked in front of him!"

I didn't answer. I just watched him.

Even now, this man thought everything I was doing was just a desperate attempt to win him back.

"Who do you think you are?" Rocco advanced on me, his Alpha presence pressing down like a physical weight. "Without my permission, without the Elders' blessing, you will never be with another man! You belong to me!"

His voice dropped to a low growl. "You think you can play games with me, Caterina? You are way out of your league."

"Caterina, do you really think this little drama of yours will work?"

I had just stepped out of Rocco's office building when Scarlett's mind-link invaded my thoughts.

"Damon? Please. You really think Rocco will ever let you go?"

Her mental voice dripped with smug satisfaction.

"He's furious. Probably already planning how he's going to charm his way back into your bed. What do you think his excuse will be this time? An apology? Another empty promise?"

I didn't respond, simply reinforcing my mental shields.

But she was right.

Rocco wouldn't let go easily.

This time, however, it wasn't up to him.

The neon lights of the city blurred past the car window. Pedestrians hurried along the streets, each with a place to go, a place to belong.

And I was about to leave this city for good.

Three days until my flight.

It was midnight when I finally returned to the empty den.

A light was on in the living room.

Rocco was on the sofa, looking exhausted. His suit was wrinkled, his hair a mess, his eyes bloodshot.

"Caterina." He stood, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "I'm sorry. I was out of line earlier."

He walked toward me, his steps cautious, as if afraid of startling a wounded animal.

"I was just so scared of losing you." A tremor entered his voice. "Don't you know that, Caterina? You're my whole world."

It was the first time I had ever heard Rocco sound so humble, so apologetic.

"Our anniversary is just a few days away," he said, stopping a few feet from me, carefully watching my expression. "What do you want to do? We could go to the Maldives, or Iceland to see the northern lights like you've always wanted. I promise, no interruptions. We can even turn off our phones."

"Whatever you want," I said, my voice flat.

"Caterina, I promise, I've dealt with the situation with Scar," he said, stepping closer, reaching for my hand. "She won't…"

"Okay."

I cut him off. The atmosphere in the room turned instantly awkward.

Rocco was clearly unprepared for my placid reaction. He'd expected tears, shouting, a dramatic reunion—none of which he got.

I was like a polite stranger, distant and cold.

"I'm going to take a shower," I said, walking around him toward the bathroom.

"Caterina," he called out from behind me, his voice laced with an undeniable anxiety. "Are you… okay? You seem…"

I turned to look at him, at the man who once made my heart race, the man I would have given up everything for, and I managed a small, tired smile.

"I'm fine."

In the bathroom, the hot water cascaded from the showerhead. I had turned the temperature up so high it nearly scalded my skin.

I hoped the heat could wash away the lingering scent of him, wash away the emptiness and numbness in my heart.

But it was useless.

When I came out of the bathroom, Rocco was no longer in the living room.

He was standing in front of the closet, staring.

It had once been full of my clothes. Now, only a few of my old, out-of-season coats remained.

"Where are your clothes?" he asked, turning to me, his eyes filled with confusion.

"I cleaned some things out. Donated what didn't fit anymore," I said calmly, walking to the vanity.

His gaze darted around the room, searching for more signs of change.

But I had been meticulous, leaving only the bare essentials.

"Caterina." He walked toward me and opened his arms.

I didn't pull away.

His embrace was warm, his chest broad, his Alpha scent familiar and safe. But I felt none of the familiar thrill.

"I love you," he whispered in my ear. "You are my only Luna."

Those were the words I had once longed to hear more than anything.

Rocco held me tight, trying to feel a response through our Mate Bond.

But my body remained stiff and cold, offering no warmth in return. He couldn't feel the love and affection he expected from me, only a deep, unbreachable distance.

He frowned, the dull ache that had started in his chest the day he signed the paper beginning to throb again.

At that moment, my mental shields were slammed with a violent force.

A flood of images and memories poured into my mind—

Private mind-links between Rocco and Scarlett stretching back six years—a dense, sickening tapestry of deceit.

【Rocco: Caterina made your favorite blueberry scones again today. I think of you every time I eat them.】

【Scarlett: Really? I miss the breakfasts you used to make for me.】

【Rocco: Caterina's wolf form really does look like yours, especially the eyes. Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend it's you I'm holding.】

Frame after frame of their private mind-links exploded in my head—

Rocco, picturing Scarlett's face while we were intimate.

Rocco, mentally entwined with her while he held me.

And he even secretly mind-linking her even during our own Mate Bond ceremony.

For six years, I had been her stand-in.

Tears blurred my vision, but I forced them back.

I slammed my mental shields into place, blocking her out completely.

Enough.

This pain ends now.

"Caterina?" Rocco noticed my distress. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said, pulling away from his embrace. "Just tired."

"Get some rest," he said gently. "I'll take you to a movie tomorrow, just like we used to."

I nodded, moving mechanically toward the window.

He was still chattering on behind me, making plans. "The day after, we can go to the beach. I've already booked the presidential suite at that seaside hotel. Remember? The one we stayed at on our first trip…"

I was nearly asleep when the bedroom door was thrown open with a violent slam.

Rocco stood in the doorway, his face, so gentle just moments before, now dark and terrifying.

He was holding a crumpled piece of paper he'd fished out of the trash.

It was the draft of my request to the Elders, covered in my scribbled notes about the procedures and reasons for removing a mate mark.

"Caterina," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Explain this. Why were you petitioning the Elders to remove our mate mark?"

"It's pack tradition," I lied smoothly. "The mark is purified before an anniversary to strengthen it."

Three days until I leave.

Lying to Rocco was becoming frighteningly natural.

He stared at me, his Alpha instincts screaming that something was wrong.

"Look me in the eye, Caterina," he said, moving toward the bed. "You're lying."

I met his gaze without flinching.

"Rocco, I have no reason to lie."

He placed the paper on the nightstand and sat down slowly on the edge of the bed.

He didn't press the issue.

"Come here," he said, his voice softening as he opened his arms. "I want to hold you."

I obeyed, letting him pull me into his arms.

He held me tightly, his chin resting on the top of my head.

"Caterina, I love you," he murmured in the darkness, his voice impossibly gentle. "You are my only Luna, the most precious thing in my life. No matter what happens, I will never let you leave me."

"I need you to remember that."

He was whispering all the right things, and his chest still held the familiar warmth I knew so well.

But my body was rigid, and my heart was a stone.

But Rocco felt none of the warmth he expected from our bond.

Before, whenever he held me like this, I would melt into him, my small movements and soft sighs telling him how much I loved him.

Now, there was nothing.

Only distance and resistance.

And the closer he got, the more severe the backlash of the rejection became. I knew he was suffering.

Both physically and mentally.

"Caterina?" He pulled back, searching my face with worried eyes. "What's wrong with you? Why do you feel so far away?"

"I'm not," I said blandly. "I'm right here, my love."

Just then, a frantic mind-link call burst into his thoughts.

"Alpha! Emergency!" It was Beta Marcus's panicked voice.

Rocco frowned and accepted the link.

"Scarlett was attacked by Rogues during the hunt! She's badly injured!" Marcus's voice was frantic. "She's lost a lot of blood and is unconscious. The doctors say it's critical!"

The color drained from Rocco's face.

The raw panic and anguish of someone fearing for the life of a loved one was written plainly across his features.

It was ten times more intense than his reaction when I had been injured.

"What? How did she run into Rogues?" he demanded, shooting up from the bed. "Where were the others? The guards?"

"The Rogues were after her. It seemed like a planned attack. The guards were all seriously wounded, she's the only one who…"

"I'm on my way!"

Rocco was already throwing on his clothes, his movements frantic.

"Caterina, Scar's in trouble. I have to go see her," he said, fastening his belt, his voice thick with urgency.

"Go," I said calmly.

He hesitated, clearly thrown by my composed response.

In the past, the mere mention of them being alone together would have sent me into a spiral of anxiety.

"I'll be back soon," he said, pausing at the door. "Wait for me."

"Okay."

After the door closed, I heard him rushing around the living room.

A few minutes later, an engine roared to life and then faded into the distance.

I got out of bed and walked to the window.

Watching his taillights disappear into the night, I felt a strange sense of peace.

No anger, no jealousy. Nothing.

Just the quiet relief of being set free.

For the next two days, I made my final preparations.

I called my lawyer to confirm the division of assets.

I sent a message to my mother, telling her I would be home soon.

I packed the design portfolios from the bookshelf, one by one.

The last few clothes in the closet were folded and placed in my suitcase.

Six years of my life, completely erased.

On the third day—our mate anniversary and my planned day of departure—I was jolted awake at five in the morning by a violent pain.

My chest felt like it was being ripped apart. Every breath was a fresh slice of a knife.

This was it. The final agony of the bond breaking.

Sage the witch had warned me that the forced rejection would have a period of excruciating pain.

It was the Moon Goddess's final offer of a chance to repent.

If the mates could reconcile, the bond could be saved.

I gritted my teeth, enduring it as cold sweat soaked through my nightgown.

The pain intensified until my vision began to blur.

I was losing the battle.

My hands trembling, I managed to force a mind-link to Rocco.

"Rocco… it hurts… can you please come back?"

The message went out into the void.

Silence. No response.

Another wave of agony crashed over me, and I finally collapsed onto the floor.