Freya

The next morning, I went back to the Snowfield packhouse.

The mansion looked the same as always—grand, cold, untouched by tragedy. The guards bowed when they saw me, but their eyes flickered to the black dress I was wearing and then to my tired face. No one dared to stop me.

I walked through the halls slowly, my heels echoing against marble floors that once felt like home. The servants avoided my gaze. Whispers followed me, but no one spoke loud enough for me to hear.

I went straight to our bedroom. No. His bedroom. I packed lightly. A suitcase. Some clothes. Important documents. Liam’s small shirt I folded felt like another blade twisting inside my ribs.

By the time I finished, it was already afternoon. That was when Archer walked in.

We stopped a few steps away from each other.

He looked at the things I was carrying briefly, then at me.

“You’re bringing Liam home now?” he asked.

I swallowed. I nodded.

I was bringing him home, just not in the way he imagined.

“Make sure you let him visit his brother,” Archer said casually, loosening his tie. “Wallace’s operation was successful.”

Brother. The word felt like acid in my ears. It amazed me how easily he could say it. How proud he sounded.

He had moved mountains overnight for Wallace. Contacted Alphas across territories. Used every connection he had. But when Liam was fighting for his life, he suspended my accounts. When I begged him for help, he blocked my number.

“I will,” I said quietly.

Because what else was there to say? He walked past me without another word. I stood there for a moment longer, feeling something dark settle deeper inside my chest.

My anger had already been burning. Now it felt endless.

---

The ride to Crescent Pack was long. Hours passed, but I barely noticed. The urn containing the ashes of Liam rested in my lap the entire time. I held it like I used to hold Liam when he fell asleep in the car, his head against my chest.

I wore black. For mourning.

When the gates of Crescent Pack opened, I felt something shift inside me. Memories rushed back—running through these fields as a child, laughing with my brother, training with the warriors. I had left all of this behind for Archer.

The guards froze when they saw me step out of the car. Their eyes dropped to the urn. Shock spread across their faces.

No one questioned me. No one tried to stop me. Word must have spread quickly, because by the time I reached the main house, my parents and my brother were already waiting at the entrance.

My mother’s hand flew to her mouth. My father looked like he had been struck. And my brother—Alpha Lucas now—stared at the urn as if it might disappear if he blinked.

“Freya…” my mother whispered.

I didn’t trust my voice, so I walked forward and placed the urn gently on the table in the center of the hall.

“This is Liam,” I said.

Silence fell. Then my mother broke down. My father’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Lucas stepped forward slowly. “What fuck happened?”

So I told them. Everything. The accident. Allison driving. Alpha Archer believing her. The hospital bills. The blocked calls. The rehabilitation center. Wallace. The bone marrow. The affair before my wedding. My miscarriage.

I told them all of it without crying. By the time I finished, the air inside the hall felt heavy with rage. Lucas slammed his fist against the table. “Snowfield will answer for this.”

My father’s wolf was near the surface; I could feel the Alpha pressure radiating from him. “We will call for a pack council. This is grounds for war.”

My mother wiped her tears, her eyes blazing. “He let his own son die.”

War. Revenge. Blood. For a moment, it was tempting. So tempting to let them fight for me.

To let Snowfield burn. But I was so tired.

“I’m exhausted,” I said softly.

They looked at me.

“I don’t want a pack war.”

Lucas frowned. “Freya—”

“I’m going to divorce him,” I continued. “And I’ll get back at them in my own way.”

My father studied me carefully. “What are you planning?”

I hesitated before speaking again. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, looking at my parents. “For running away. I should have listened to you. I should have married the Northern Pack’s Alpha instead of that fucking Alpha.”

The memory made my chest tighten. Years ago, my parents had arranged a political marriage between me and the Alpha of Northern Pack. Everyone called him a monster. Cold. Ruthless. Dangerous.

I had been young. Scared. So I ran, and I even eloped with Alpha Archer. I chose what I thought was love.

“And now?” Lucas asked carefully.

I met his gaze. “If he’s still willing… I will marry him willingly this time.”

My mother inhaled sharply.

“Freya, are you sure?” Lucas asked.

I nodded slowly and looked out the window at the cloudy sky.

“I have a plan,” I said. “And if it means marrying the Northern Alpha, I’ll do it.”

For Liam. For the child I lost. For the woman I used to be.

“Please hold a funeral for Liam,” I added. “On the last day, I’ll come back. Fully divorced.”

My family exchanged looks. Then my father nodded.

“We will honor him properly,” he said.

And for the first time in weeks, I felt like my son would finally be seen.

---

I returned to Snowfield the next day. The packhouse felt even colder than before.

That afternoon, the mail arrived. Among the documents was the envelope I had been waiting for.

Divorce papers. Official. Stamped. Legal.

I stared at Alpha Archer’s name printed beside mine.

Freya Harlan. Not for long. I would be free from his surname soon. I folded the papers carefully and walked toward his office. The door was slightly open. He was inside, speaking on the phone.

“Yes, I’ll visit Wallace after this,” he said. “Make sure he takes his medication.”

Wallace. Always Wallace. He ended the call and looked up when I entered.

“What?” he said impatiently. “I’m busy. I’m going to finish fast to visit Wallace.”

I stood there quietly for a moment. I studied him. This man had once held my hand and promised me forever. Now he could barely spare me a glance.

“This is the paper needing your signature from the rehabilitation center,” I lied evenly. “Just sign it quickly. I’m going there now to pass it.”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Tsk. Give that to me.”

I walked forward and handed him the papers. He didn’t read them. Didn’t even skim through. He picked up his pen and signed at the bottom without hesitation.

No questions. No suspicion. No care. He slid the papers back toward me.

“There,” he said. “Anything else?”

I took the documents. Looked at his signature. Alpha Archer Harlan. My soon-to-be ex-husband.

“No,” I replied softly. “That’s all.”

I turned and walked out of his office, closing the door behind me. He didn’t even know he had just signed away our marriage. He was too busy being a father to his childhood sweetheart's child.

Freya

I woke up to noise. Not the usual quiet footsteps of servants starting their morning duties, but heavy movements. Furniture scraping against the floor. Boxes being dragged. Voices whispering urgently.

For a moment, I lay still, disoriented. Then I realized the sounds were coming from down the hall. From Liam’s room.

I shot up from the bed and ran barefoot into the corridor. The door to Liam’s room was wide open. Servants were inside. They were taking things out. His bed. His small cabinet. His toy chest.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, my voice sharp and shaking.

The servants froze, glancing at each other nervously. That was when I saw them. Allison stood near the window, one hand resting on the curve of her waist as if she owned the place, and Alpha Archer stood beside her, arms crossed.

“Walace needs a bigger room,” Archer said casually, as if explaining a minor rearrangement. “I ordered them to move Liam’s things to the guest room. Bear with it for now. Walace is recovering.”

Recovering. In my son’s room.

My hands curled into fists. “You’re giving him Liam’s room?”

“It’s the biggest one facing the garden,” Allison replied before Archer could speak. “The sunlight is good for recovery.”

I stepped inside, my heart pounding.

That was when I smelled it. Smoke. I turned toward the fireplace. Some of Liam’s clothes were burning. His tiny sweaters. His baby onesies. The soft blue jacket he wore during his first winter.

“Why are you burning his clothes?!” I asked, my voice cracking.

Alpha Archer didn’t even look guilty.

“Those are baby clothes,” he said flatly. “We don’t need them anymore. It’s a waste of space.”

A waste of space. My son’s things were waste.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry out at them. Instead, I walked straight to the remaining pile of clothes on the bed and began gathering them into my arms. The servants hesitated, and Alpha Archer merely watched me with narrowed eyes.

Tears blurred my vision, but I kept packing. Every shirt. Every pair of socks. Every small blanket.

“Freya,” Archer said with a scoff, “don’t start acting pitiful over a room.”

Pitiful. He thought this was merely about a room.

I didn’t answer him. I grabbed a suitcase from the corner and began stuffing Liam’s things inside it carefully, folding what I could, pressing the fabrics to my face when no one was looking.

Allison shifted uncomfortably. Maybe she didn’t expect me to be this calm. Maybe she expected hysterics. But I had none left for them.

When I finished packing the last of Liam’s belongings, I closed the suitcase and stood up slowly. The fire was still burning.

Meanwhile, Alpha Archer had stepped out for a moment to take a call.

I looked around the room. The walls were bare now. Except for one thing. The photo frames. Family pictures. Me. Archer. Liam. Our wedding. My Luna ceremony. The photo album on the shelf containing years of memories.

I walked toward them quietly. One by one, I removed the photos from their frames.

I didn’t rush. I didn’t tremble. I simply gathered them all.

Allison frowned. “What are you doing now?”

I didn’t answer. I walked to the fireplace. And I fed the flames. The first picture to burn was our wedding portrait, where Alpha Archer was holding my hand. Smiling like he loved me.

The fire consumed his face first. Then mine. Then the vows we once believed in.

The album followed. Every memory turned to ash.

When Archer returned, he stopped at the sight of the flames.

“What are you burning?” he asked, irritation in his voice.

I didn’t look at him. “Trash,” I replied calmly.

He stared at me for a second longer, then shrugged as if it didn’t matter. To him, it probably didn’t.

The next day was the last day of Liam’s funeral rites at Crescent Pack.

But here, in Snowfield, there was a banquet. A celebration. The hall was decorated lavishly. Gold and white drapes hung from the ceiling. Musicians played light, cheerful melodies.

It was a banquet for Wallace’s successful operation. And Alpha Archer had decided to make an announcement.

I wore black. Not a simple black dress. A mourning dress.

When I entered the hall, conversations slowed.

Eyes turned toward me. Some sympathetic. Some curious.

Then, I saw Alpha Archer stood at the front with Allison and Wallace beside him.

“Today,” Archer announced proudly, “we celebrate Wallace’s recovery. And I also wish to formally declare that Wallace is my son.”

Gasps spread across the hall. Right then, whispers erupted. I could feel the stares shift toward me. Pity. They were pitying me, their Luna—or ex-Luna.

Suddenly, Allison leaned closer to me as the applause began. “Why are you wearing black?” she hissed under her breath. “This is a celebration for my son. You look like you’re attending a funeral.”

I turned to her slowly and smiled. “I like the color,” I said lightly. “It’s my happy color.”

Her eyes narrowed.

When the applause died down, I began clapping. Loudly. The sound echoed awkwardly in the sudden silence. I smiled wider.

“I’m really, really happy that Wallace lived,” I said cheerfully. “And that the righteous Allison, who would never covet another she-wolf’s Alpha, is safe.”

Allison’s jaw tightened. Perhaps, she felt my overflowing sarcasm, one that only she could understand.

“Maybe if you drove that night,” I continued sweetly, “we’d all be safe.” And just like I said, only she understood the weight of my words.

Her fingers dug into her gown.

Then I turned to Archer. “Sorry I have no gift for Wallace,” I told him regretfully. “But I have a gift for our righteous and responsible father, Alpha Archer.”

I handed him an envelope. He looked mildly curious. Before he could open it, I placed a hand on his wrist.

“It’s a secret,” I whispered, leaning closer. “Something… naughty. Open it when you’re alone.”

I winked. His expression shifted slightly, misunderstanding completely. He slipped the envelope under the table.

Inside it were three things. Liam’s death certificate. My miscarriage report. And our signed divorce papers.

I stepped back.

“Enjoy your celebration,” I said lightly.

Then I walked away. No one stopped me. No one realized that the Luna of Snowfield had just ended her marriage.

I went upstairs, took my suitcase, and left through the back entrance.

At the border of Snowfield’s territory, a luxurious black car was waiting. Its engine was already running. Then, a man in a formal suit stepped out as I approached.

He bowed slightly. “Lady Freya.”

I paused.

“I am Alpha Nathan’s butler,” he said respectfully. “I was asked to send you back for the last day of your son’s funeral.”

My brows furrowed. “Alpha Nathan?” I asked. Who was that? “I thought my brother would come pick me up himself.”

The butler gave a polite smile. “Alpha Nathan of Northern Pack,” he clarified. “Your future husband.”