Felicity’s POV

It all happened too fast.

One moment I was running through the borderlands, and the next, fangs and claws tore into my flesh. Their growls drowned out my screams as I stumbled, blood spilling down my arms, my side, my legs.

I tried to fight. Goddess knows I tried. My wolf clawed at the surface, but my body was too slow, too weak against so many of them. Their claws raked me open again and again, and with each slash, my strength bled out of me, pooling into the dirt.

I knew then. I was going to die.

The world blurred. The taste of iron filled my mouth. My knees buckled. My wolf howled inside me, fading. This is it…

And then everything went dark.

When my eyes opened again, I was surrounded not by wolves but by white walls, bright lights, and the faint antiseptic sting of a hospital. My body ached, stitched and bandaged, but somehow still alive.

I blinked, disoriented. “Where…?”

“You’re awake,” a soft voice said. A nurse stepped closer, her expression grave. “You lost a lot of blood. But you’re stable now. You’re lucky… another Alpha brought you here. He must have saved you from the border.”

Her words barely sank in before she added, hesitantly, “Miss… I’m sorry. You were one month pregnant. But… the baby didn’t survive.”

My breath caught. The room tilted, spinning. Pregnant? I hadn’t known. I hadn’t felt it. The words hit harder than claws, cutting straight through me.

“No,” I whispered, clutching the sheets. “No, no, no…”

Tears blurred my vision as a sob tore free. A baby. My baby. Gone before I even knew it existed. My heart felt like it had been carved out of my chest. I hadn’t just lost blood that night—I had lost a piece of myself.

The nurse placed a hand on my arm. “Rest. Your body needs to heal.”

But how could I heal when my soul was shattered?

Hours passed, or maybe it was days—I couldn’t tell.

All I knew was the scent. It lingered faintly on my skin, clinging to me like a brand. The scent of the Alpha who had carried me here. Strong, dark, grounding. Not Cyrus. Someone else.

Who was he? Why had he saved me?

I reached for my phone with trembling fingers. If anyone should know I was alive, it was Cyrus. My husband. My alpha.

I called him. Once. Twice. Five times. No answer.

My heart pounded harder with each ring that ended in silence.

Desperate, I opened my social media, hoping to message him. Instead, the first thing that greeted me stole the breath from my lungs.

A post. Public. It was Dianna.

And beside her, smiling with an ease I had never once seen directed at me, was Cyrus. They stood together on a yacht, the sea glittering behind them. His arm was around her waist, his lips curved in affection.

The caption beneath the photo cut through me like a blade.

Planning our wedding ceremony soon.

The phone slipped from my fingers. My chest constricted until I couldn’t breathe. While I had bled out at the border, losing the baby I hadn’t even known I carried, he had been with her. Smiling. Planning. Celebrating.

I curled into myself, the tears coming too hard, too fast. I thought betrayal couldn’t hurt more than it already had. I was wrong.

The door slammed open.

Cyrus stormed in, his face dark with fury. “Why didn’t you try harder to contact me when you were in danger?”

I flinched at the sharpness in his voice. My lips parted, but no words came. Because what could I say? That I had tried? That I had bled and screamed until my voice was gone? That I had called him again and again, but he hadn’t been there?

My silence seemed to enrage him further. He loomed over me, arms crossed. “Do you realize how reckless you were? Going to the border like that? Do you even think before you act?”

Hopelessness swallowed me whole. Even now, after everything, he wasn’t worried about me—only about my mistake. Only about my failure.

“It’s my fault, then,” I whispered, staring at the blanket. “Even bleeding out was my fault.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he sighed, pulling a container from the bag in his hand. “I brought you food.”

He set it on the table and opened the lid. Carrot soup.

Of course.

Carrot. Always carrot. Always her.

My hands shook as he lifted the spoon toward me. My stomach twisted. I couldn’t do it—not this time.

But before the first spoonful reached my lips, the door burst open again. Beta Noel rushed in, his face pale.

“Alpha Cyrus! It’s Lady Dianna. She fainted!”

Cyrus dropped the spoon at once. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t glance back at me, didn’t even ask if I needed anything else. He just turned and walked out with Noel, his strides long and urgent.

I was left alone again. Abandoned.

Numbness seeped into me, heavier than the pain. What was left of me to even break anymore?

But then… That scent.

The same one I had noticed before, rich and commanding, with an undertone of wild pine and storm. My wolf stirred faintly inside me, recognizing it, pulling me toward it.

And there he was.

A man leaned casually against the doorframe, arms folded, his gaze fixed on me. He was an Alpha, no doubt about it. His presence filled the room, powerful and suffocating in a way Cyrus never had been. His long, dark hair fell past his shoulders, framing a face too sharp and handsome to belong to any ordinary man.

But his eyes—Goddess, his eyes—held a heat that made my pulse trip.

“Do you want me to help you run away from your mutt of an Alpha?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, curling through the air like smoke.

My breath hitched. My wolf pressed forward, ears pricked, her attention utterly captured by him.

And for the first time in years, I felt something stir in my chest besides pain.

Hope.

Felicity’s POV

He was Damien.

I barely recognized him at first. He stood at the hospital doorway, radiating power in a way that made the air feel heavy, his dark hair cascading past his shoulders, his gaze sharp and commanding. It was nothing like the Damien I remembered.

Once, long ago, he had been a visitor to my parents’ pack. My father, though not an Alpha himself, had been one of Damien’s early mentors in diplomacy and battle strategy. Despite Damien’s pack being far larger and more formidable than ours, he had spent time in our home, listening intently to my father’s lessons.

Back then, he had been… softer. A little nerdy, bookish, with glasses that always slipped down his nose and a frame that seemed too lean for an Alpha heir. I had never thought he would one day carry the weight of his pack with such confidence, such strength. Years of leadership had carved a new man before me, nothing like the shy young wolf I once knew.

“You…” My voice had cracked when I saw him. “Damien?”

His smirk had been faint, but real. “So you do remember me.”

Of course I had. How could I forget the boy who once snuck me extra sweet buns from my mother’s kitchen? But the man before me was no boy. He was all Alpha, and his words had made my heart stumble.

“Do you want me to help you run away from your mutt of an Alpha?”

The weight of his question still lingered with me days later, long after I had begged him for time. “A week,” I had whispered to him. “Give me a week. To settle what’s left of me here.”

And Damien, steady and unshaken, had only nodded. “I’ll be waiting. Always.”

I stayed in the hospital for three more days. My body healed, but my heart did not. I grieved endlessly in silence—the baby I had lost before I ever knew it existed, the marriage I thought was real, the betrayal that stared me in the face every time I closed my eyes.

When the healers cleared me to leave, I walked back to the packhouse, dragging the weight of despair with me. But as soon as I stepped inside, I froze.

The air was filled with laughter. The living area was bright, crowded with food on the center table as though it were a feast. There they sat—Alpha Cyrus, Beta Noel, and her. Dianna.

The laughter stopped the moment I entered. All eyes turned toward me.

“Oh,” Cyrus said after a pause, his voice casual, as though I had only interrupted a minor gathering. “I forgot you’d be coming home today. You should have called me.”

Called him. Again with blame. As if I had been wrong to simply return to my own home.

But my eyes were not on him. They were on her.

Dianna sat close to him, her smile sugary sweet, her hand resting on her lap as though she had every right to be there.

Cyrus cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably before he spoke again. “This is Dianna. My childhood friend. She’ll be staying here at the packhouse for a while. She’s recovering—from… an attack. Some sorcery in the past month.”

Sorcery? I nearly laughed. But I forced myself to breathe, to stay composed. “I remember Dianna,” I said quietly. “You used to… hang out. Years ago.”

“Yes,” Cyrus said quickly, almost too quickly. “Exactly. She’s been through a lot, Felicity. Her condition is serious. That’s why I left the other day—she needed me more. Your border stunt…” He waved a hand dismissively. “…I knew you’d be fine, It can be avoided if you only stayed away from the borders.”

My jaw dropped. He was blaming me? The scars still burned across my skin. The ache in my womb still throbbed.

“I wasn’t—” My voice shook, but I pushed through. “I lost something. I lost our baby—”

But before the words could fully leave my lips, before I could tell him of the baby, Dianna let out a sudden shriek.

Her hand flew to her chest. “Oh, Goddess! Alpha—it’s happening again—my condition—!” She slumped dramatically against the chair, her face twisted in false pain.

And just like that, all eyes went to her.

Cyrus was on his feet instantly, hands on her shoulders. “Dianna! Breathe, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“No,” I whispered, my voice drowned beneath her cries. “No, listen to me—I lost our—”

But he didn’t hear. He didn’t see. All his focus was on her trembling form, her crocodile tears spilling like rain.

The words about our baby died on my tongue, strangled by the weight of his indifference.

I turned and walked away.

Upstairs, I pushed open the door to my room, my sanctuary, my last remaining corner of this cursed packhouse. But the sight that met me sent me reeling.

It was empty. The furniture was still there, but my belongings were gone. My clothes, my books, the little trinkets I had carried from my parents’ pack, vanished. The space felt foreign, stripped bare.

And then I understood. This wasn’t my room anymore.

I felt her presence behind me before I even turned.

“Like it?” Dianna’s voice was honeyed with false sweetness. “Cyrus gave me this room. Said it was bigger. More comfortable. More fitting… for me.”

My stomach twisted. She stepped closer, her lips curving. “After all, it was always meant to be mine. From the very beginning. I left, yes—but then you stole everything that belonged to me. Even Cyrus.”

Her words dripped venom, but her eyes glittered with triumph. I saw her now for what she truly was, not the fragile childhood friend, not the victim of sorcery, but a wolf who had returned to reclaim everything, no matter who she destroyed in the process.

“So your illness,” I asked softly, “is it real?”

For a fraction of a second, her mask slipped. But then her voice rose, trembling theatrically as tears spilled down her cheeks. “Are you accusing me of faking my pain? After everything I’ve been through?”

Her wails echoed down the hallway. Loud. Calculated. And right on cue, Cyrus appeared. His eyes immediately locked on her, full of concern, before they flicked to me with fury.

“What did you say to her?” His voice was sharp as a whip.

“I—”

“She’s accusing me,” Dianna sobbed, throwing herself against him. “She accused me of pretending to be sick just to get your attention. She hates me, Alpha! She wants to ruin us!”

“That’s not what I said!” I shouted, desperate, but it was useless.

Cyrus’s gaze hardened. He strode forward, his grip suddenly like iron as he snatched my hand. Pain flared as his fingers clamped down, and before I could protest, he ripped the ring from my finger.

The ring. The simple band he had placed there three years ago, promising me that someday it would be replaced by a Luna’s coronet. Promising me that my time would come.

His eyes were cold as he pocketed it. “You don’t deserve this ring anymore.”

The final thread that had tied me to him snapped.

And I stood there, hollow, realizing every promise, every word, every dream had been a lie.

Felicity’s POV

I was no longer in my own room.

That reality stung worse than any wound, worse than the claw marks that had nearly killed me weeks ago. They had moved me to the guest room, four plain walls, a small bed, none of the warmth that once reminded me I was supposed to be Luna. My things were stacked in boxes like I was a rogue passing through. Meanwhile, Dianna… she slept in my room. My bed. The one place where I had once dreamed of raising pups with Alpha Cyrus.

I folded my clothes with slow, deliberate hands, as if by neatly tucking each piece away I could somehow hold together the fraying edges of my sanity. Each shirt, each scarf carried a memory, small, painful ghosts of a bond that was thinning with every breath.

Alpha Damien’s promise echoed in the back of my mind. One message, and I’ll come. He had said it so firmly, so steadily, that I almost believed in the possibility of freedom. If I called, he would help me leave Cyrus. My heart trembled at the thought, but my pride kept me from pressing send. Some part of me still foolishly hoped Cyrus would turn his gaze back to me.

The sound of footsteps outside drew me from my thoughts. A metallic clatter followed, the delivery box. Curiosity pushed me forward, down the stairs, until I stood by the packhouse entrance.

The mailbox lay there, a plain container, but inside it… I froze.

A velvet case.

My fingers shook as I opened it. Inside glittered a ring, no, my ring. The one I had designed, painstakingly sketched, shaping every curve of the band and the placement of the diamonds. I had given Cyrus a copy of that design, half-teasing, half-dreaming, saying it was the ring I would want to wear on our wedding day.

And here it was. Real. Perfect.

Tears pricked my eyes. Was this his apology? His way of saying he was finally ready to give me a proper ceremony, a real marriage? My wolf howled faintly within me, hope sparking for the first time in weeks.

I slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly, like it had been waiting for me all along.

But then his scent swept in, Cyrus’s commanding presence filling the hall like a storm. His gaze locked on the ring, and instead of the warmth I craved, fury darkened his features.

“What are you doing with that?” he snapped, voice like a whip.

I stared at him, bewildered. “What do you mean? It’s my design. My ring. You had it made for me… didn’t you?”

His jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring. “That’s not for you.”

The words cut me open. My chest hollowed. “Not… for me?” My voice cracked. “Cyrus, aren’t you going to marry me for real now? Isn’t that why you had this made?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Marry you? Felicity, we are already married. What nonsense are you talking about?”

My breath hitched. Married. He always said that, clinging to the paper contract he had tossed my way years ago. But it had never been real. No vows, no ceremony, no recognition. Just a cold signature.

Before I could answer, a sickeningly sweet voice drifted in.

“Isn’t that the ring I wanted?” Dianna.

She glided toward us, pale as porcelain, her eyes watery with practiced fragility. My stomach twisted when I saw how her gaze lingered possessively on the ring still shining on my finger.

I stepped back, clutching my hand to my chest. “No. This is my design. I gave it to Alpha Cyrus long before you—”

“Enough!” Cyrus’s voice boomed, silencing me. His eyes burned with warning, not at her but at me. “Felicity, give it to Dianna. You know she’s sick. She deserves it more.”

My knees nearly gave out. “She deserves it?” My voice shook, disbelief and rage warring inside me. “You mean to tell me the ring I created, the one meant to be mine, belongs to her now? Alpha, how could you?”

His expression hardened. “Dianna’s sorcery is serious. I’ll do whatever I must to lighten her mood. If giving her this ring makes her happy, then so be it.”

Something inside me cracked. “You would do everything for her,” I whispered. “Give her a grand ring, a grand wedding… yet you never even gave me a proper one.”

“Because you’re not sick, Felicity!” he roared, eyes flashing with impatience. “You don’t need it.”

Silence fell heavy in the room. My hands trembled, my chest heaving.

Dianna pressed herself into Cyrus’s side, lowering her lashes. A single tear slid down her cheek. “I don’t mean to cause trouble. I just wanted to borrow him for a while,” she whispered pitifully. “Just a grand wedding, just to feel like I’m loved before I die. Isn’t that too much to ask?”

Her words were knives dressed in velvet. My wolf snarled inside me, but my body felt rooted to the floor.

Borrow him. Borrow.

The absurdity of it broke me. My laugh was bitter, raw. “No need to borrow,” I said, voice shaking. “Take him. Take it all. Everything I own—own it. I’m done fighting.”

I turned and walked away before my tears betrayed me further. Upstairs, I gathered everything that reminded me of Cyrus, gifts, clothes, letters, the trinkets he had once used to bind me to him. I carried them to the furnace room, my body trembling with every step.

The fire roared to life as I tossed them in. One by one, they burned. The lies, the empty promises, the fragments of a marriage that was never real. Smoke stung my eyes, but I didn’t look away.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around me from behind. His scent smothered me.

“Felicity—stop!” Cyrus’s voice cracked, uncharacteristically soft. He held me tightly, his chest pressed to my back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come to this. I just… I can’t let Dianna die. Please understand.”

His lips brushed my hair, his words trembling. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take you out on a date, just the two of us. I promise.”

I didn’t answer. My body sagged against his, too weak to fight, too exhausted to hope. Silence was all I had left.

That night, I fell into restless sleep, only to be jolted awake by his urgent hands shaking me.

“Felicity—wake up!” His voice was sharp, desperate. I blinked, groggy, as his face loomed over mine.

“What is it?” I rasped.

His eyes burned with something I had never seen before—fear. “Dianna’s sorcery has worsened. The healers say there’s only one way to cleanse her.”

My stomach sank. “What way?”

His grip tightened on my shoulders. “Your wolf core.”

My blood turned to ice.

“You have to give it to her,” he said, almost pleading. “If you don’t, she’ll die. But if you do… you can leave. You’ll still live. Just powerless. Please, Felicity. Don’t let her die.”

My wolf screamed inside me, a sound of raw betrayal. I stared at him, the man I had once trusted with my life, and saw the truth. He wasn’t asking. He was taking.

And in that moment, I knew—I was nothing more than a vessel to him.