I found the café three days after Julian gave me the toxicology report.

It sat on the border between Ironvale territory and the neutral zone—a small place with outdoor tables and uneven brick pavement. I ordered coffee I didn't drink and sat facing the street. The morning air was cool. Clean. It didn't smell like Ironvale.

I was reading Julian's report for the third time when his scent hit me.

Woodsmoke and leather. Sharp. Familiar. Wrong.

I didn't look up.

Donovan pulled out the chair across from me and sat down without asking. His presence felt heavy, oppressive, like a storm rolling in. I kept my eyes on the report.

"Leanna."

I turned the page.

"You can't ignore me forever," he said. His voice had that edge to it—the one that used to make my wolf whimper. Now it just made my jaw tighten.

I set the report down and looked at him.

He looked tired. His eyes were bloodshot, the skin beneath them bruised and hollow. His shirt was wrinkled. He hadn't shaved. For a moment I almost felt something. Then I remembered the way he'd turned away from me on the dais. The way he'd raised his glass while I bled on the floor.

The feeling passed.

"What do you want?" I asked.

His jaw worked. "I want to talk."

"So talk."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "This thing with Sylas—whatever game you're playing—it needs to stop. You're using him to get back at me. I get it. You're hurt. But dragging a Lycan prince into our business—"

"Our business," I repeated softly.

He blinked. "What?"

"You said 'our business.' There is no 'our.' You ended that."

His hands curled into fists on the table. "The rejection was necessary. You know that. Makenna is—"

"Highborn," I finished. "Connected. Everything I wasn't."

"She's the Luna Ironvale needs," he said, and there was something defensive in his tone now. Almost pleading. "You never fit. You were never strong enough. The pack—"

"The pack watched you poison me for three years."

Silence.

I picked up the toxicology report and set it on the table between us. "Julian Mercer filed this with the Lycan Council. Did you know that?"

Donovan stared at the folder. He didn't reach for it.

"Systematic abuse," I said. "That's what he called it. Prolonged exposure to near-lethal concentrations of wolfsbane. Deliberate administration. Pharmaceutical cage." I tapped the folder. "It's all in there. Every test. Every number. Every morning you handed me a pill and told me it was for my own good."

His throat worked. "I was protecting you. Your wolf wasn't ready—"

"My wolf was never given a chance."

I pushed my chair back and stood. He stood too, faster, his hand shooting out to grab my wrist.

"Don't walk away from me," he said, and there it was—the Alpha tone. The command that used to drop me to my knees.

I looked down at his hand on my wrist. Then I looked up at him.

"Let go."

He did. Slowly. Like it hurt.

I rolled up my left sleeve. Then my right.

The blackened veins caught the morning light. They traced delicate, branching patterns from my wrists to my elbows—beautiful in a terrible way. Like ink drawings. Like evidence.

Donovan stared. His face went pale.

"This is what three years looks like," I said quietly. "Every morning. Every pill. Every lie you told me about keeping me safe."

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

"Your scent makes me sick," I said. "Physically. When you walked up, I wanted to vomit."

I turned and walked away.

Behind me, I heard it—a sound he tried to swallow but couldn't. Low. Guttural. Anguished. His wolf, howling in his human throat. The sound followed me all the way to the end of the block.

I didn't look back.

---

The quarters Donovan had kept for me sat in the west wing of the pack house.

I didn't go back. But I heard about it later, from a she-wolf who used to clean the halls. She said Donovan went there the day after the café. She said he stood in the doorway for a long time before going inside.

Every gift he'd ever given me was still there.

The Luna-quality pelts he'd draped over my bed. The jeweled hair combs he'd brought back from a territory summit. The rare moonstone pendant he'd fastened around my neck the night he told me I'd never be good enough to wear it in public.

All of it. Piled neatly in the waste bin.

My scent was already fading from the walls. The bed. The chair by the window.

The she-wolf said Donovan touched the edge of the waste bin. Then his body started to shake. He fell to his knees. His bones cracked. His skin split.

He shifted right there in the middle of the room—violent, uncontrolled, agonized. His wolf tore through his clothes and howled. The sound echoed through the entire west wing. It rattled the windows. It made the younger wolves press their hands over their ears and whimper.

No one came to check on him.

The she-wolf said he stayed that way for hours. A massive grey wolf, alone in an empty room, howling at walls that didn't answer.

---

Makenna came to my lodging on the fourth day.

She brought two Ironvale she-wolves with her. They flanked her like guards, though they kept their eyes down. Makenna wore the gold Luna pendant prominently, centered perfectly on her collarbone. Her dress was cream silk. Her hair fell in perfect waves. She looked like a portrait.

"Leanna," she said, smiling. "I wanted to check on you. Make sure you're settling in."

I stood in the doorway and didn't move aside.

Her smile thinned. "May we come in?"

"No."

Her jaw tightened, but she kept the smile in place. "I understand you've been through a difficult time. Losing your bond. Discovering your wolf was too weak to survive the rejection. It must be devastating."

I said nothing.

She touched the Luna pendant at her throat, lifting it slightly. "The Moon Goddess works in mysterious ways. Sometimes we think we're meant for something we're not. Donovan needed someone strong. Someone who could lead beside him. Someone who could give him powerful heirs."

She tilted her head. "Someone with a wolf."

I looked at the two she-wolves flanking her. They both avoided my eyes.

"Are you finished?" I asked.

Makenna's smile faltered. Just for a second. Then it came back, sharper. "I'm trying to be kind, Leanna. Most rejected mates don't get settlements. They don't get lodging. They certainly don't get visited by the new Luna. You should be grateful."

I turned and walked into my room, leaving the door open behind me.

Makenna followed. The two she-wolves stayed in the hallway.

I opened the drawer beside my bed and pulled out the shredded severance documents. I'd kept them. Not for sentiment. For evidence. I carried them to the small table by the window, where a candle burned in a brass dish.

Makenna watched, her smile frozen in place.

I held the first scrap of paper over the flame. It curled. Blackened. Turned to ash.

"What are you doing?" Makenna's voice rose.

I fed the second scrap to the flame. Then the third.

"Stop that," she snapped.

I didn't stop.

I burned every piece. The cabin deed. The stipend agreement. The silence oath. All of it. The ash collected in the dish like snow.

Makenna's face went pale. "You're insane."

I looked at her. "Leave."

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Turned on her heel and left.

I watched the ash in the candle dish until it cooled.

---

Donovan arrived twenty minutes later.

He must have followed Makenna. He burst through the door like he expected a fight. His eyes found me first, then the candle dish, then Makenna standing rigid near the window.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

I looked at him. Not with anger. Not with grief. With nothing.

"She's trying to extort us," Makenna said quickly. "She burned the settlement documents. She's going to demand more money—"

"I'm not," I said.

Donovan's eyes narrowed. "Then what do you want?"

I walked to the table and picked up the candle dish. The ash shifted inside. I held it out toward him.

"There is nothing left of me in Ironvale," I said. "Not my wolf. Not my scent. Not my silence."

I set the dish down.

"I'm leaving."

Donovan stiffened. "You can't—"

"I can. I already severed the pack link. I already burned your settlement. There's nothing binding me here."

"Leanna—"

I walked past him. Past Makenna. Out the door.

I didn't pack. I didn't say goodbye. I just left.

That night I crossed the border into the neutral zone with nothing but the clothes on my back and Julian's toxicology report folded in my pocket.

Ironvale didn't hear from me again for twelve months.