Isabelle

The leather chair beneath me creaked faintly as I shifted, but my gaze never left Jason Monstera’s face. Not even as the weight of the moment pressed against my chest like a cinderblock.

He looked perfect. Immaculate, really… his ash-blond hair slicked back with precision, the Monstera crest on his silver cuff gleaming under the dim lights of the private office in Monstera Tower. The Alpha-to-be. The heir. The man I once called husband in a hidden ceremony under the twin moons.

My husband.

And yet I no longer recognized him.

He slid the phone across the glass table. “Watch this,” he said.

I hesitated. The cold glass stung my fingertips. I picked up the phone. Pressed play.

And then I stopped breathing.

My twin sister, Diane, was in the video. Her face battered, her wrists bound. Her screams… goddess above, her screams tore through the screen and into my soul.

A male voice, laughing and cruel, called her by vile names, mocked her tears, used her like she wasn’t even a she-wolf, like she wasn’t someone’s daughter, sister, or mate-to-be. No. She was an object to him. A tool to break.

A shadow of myself. Because we’re twins.

“You bastard,” I whispered, clutching the phone in shaking hands. “How did you get this?”

Jason folded his arms casually, like we were discussing politics. “He sent it to Samantha. She brought it to me. To help clean up the mess.”

My wolf roared within me. Mess? Diane’s trauma was a mess?

“What is this, Jason?” I demanded, voice trembling. “You, of all wolves, know what she went through. That’s Diane. My sister.”

He leaned back. “Yes. So let’s stop the gibberish. You have three minutes, Belle.” His voice was ice. “Give me the legal evidence. All of it. Or…” He gestured to the phone. “This spreads. She’ll be ruined. Or better… maybe I let the press think it’s you in the video. You and Diane are identical, after all.”

The air thinned. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

“You’d do that?” I choked out. “You’d destroy my career in the High Wolf Court? After everything I… after everything we’ve—”

Jason clicked his tongue. “Don’t be dramatic. You knew this path wouldn’t last forever. You’re an omega, Belle. A background-less one. The only reason they tolerate you up there is because you’re useful, for now.”

A credit card clinked against the table.

“Ten million,” he offered like it was candy. “Give it to Diane. Let her buy bags, cars, maybe even a moonstone pendant to forget the trauma. It’s more than she deserves, frankly.”

I stared at the card. The silver glint of Monstera Bank. My lips curled.

“And Samantha?” I said, barely holding my snarl. “Where does she fit in this chessboard you’re playing?”

Jason’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “She saved me once,” he said. “She matters.”

“You’re helping her rapist client.”

He didn’t flinch.

“She’s the legal counsel of the monster who did this to my sister.”

He smiled, but it was hollow. “That’s the game, Belle. Sometimes wolves get bitten.”

I recoiled. “You were my mate—”

“We were married, not mated,” he cut in sharply. “There’s a difference. You never smelled like fate.”

My wolf howled in agony.

“You promised,” I whispered. “You once told me you’d defy the Moon Goddess herself before ever turning against me.”

He shrugged. “I guess I changed.”

My hands curled into fists, claws threatening to break skin.

Flashbacks slammed into me like waves.

Jason as my driver during risky evidence hunts. Jason making me tea while I stayed up reviewing files. Jason on his knees, slipping a secret moonstone ring on my finger under the stars, swearing, “I don’t care what my family says. You’re my forever, Belle.”

A lie. All of it.

The first time I ever faced Samantha in the High Wolf Court, I wasn’t surprised to see her standing tall on the defense side. What surprised me was how proud she looked about it.

She was representing a rotting, decrepit Alpha accused of molesting a rogue child no older than seven. The kind of crime that should have silenced an entire courtroom in collective horror. But Samantha? She walked in like it was just another contract dispute, her chin high and her shoulders squared like she was about to save the damn world.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the court,” she began, her voice laced with that same smug self-righteousness I’d grown used to hearing in pack meetings, “let us remember that even an Alpha is innocent until proven guilty.”

I watched her, still and quiet at the prosecution table. My jaw locked. My wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin.

Samantha always did love to dress words in righteousness, even when the soul of what she was defending was rotting from the inside out. She lacked real insight—everyone knew that. Her arguments were always emotionally manipulative rather than factual. But she sounded confident. Like her voice alone could bend the truth until it snapped.

“He is a respected elder. He has sons, daughters, grandpups even,” she continued, gesturing with exaggerated grace. “And we are to believe he would risk all that… for what? The word of a wild rogue pup with no pack and no guardians?”

A low growl rumbled in my throat, quiet enough that only my second could hear. She placed a warning hand on my arm.

Outside court, I didn’t approach her. But she found me anyway.

I was standing near the old willow tree by the courthouse steps, phone in hand, pretending to scroll through documents I already knew by heart.

“Isabelle,” Samantha called out, voice syrupy-sweet. “Must you always look at me like I’m the villain?”

I glanced up, not bothering to hide my disdain. “You defend monsters. What do you expect me to see?”

Her mouth curled into that faux-sad expression she always wore when she was about to twist the narrative. “You think you’re standing on the moral high ground, but you’re not the only one who feels pain, you know. That man—he has a family. He’s old. Fragile. Do you really need to see him rot behind silver bars just to feel like you’ve done something?”

My eyes narrowed. “A little girl was hurt. What about her family? Or do rogues not count in your version of justice?”

She clicked her tongue. “Don’t be so dramatic. She’s a product of two unmated wolves. That child’s existence was a mistake from the start.”

I went still. Too still. My wolf’s rage was a rising tide beneath my skin, pulsing and hot, threatening to break free. I forced my voice to stay level. “The Moon Goddess sees all, Samantha. Even the way you justify cruelty with logic.”

That moment replayed in my mind often. Especially when I thought about the warnings I used to give Jason.

“You don’t know what she’s like behind closed doors,” I told him once. “She’s dangerous. Manipulative.”

Jason had pulled me into his arms then, his warmth a shield against the world. His scent—a mix of pine and amber—used to soothe my wolf instantly.

“This kind of ungrateful thing…” he had growled, voice thick with protectiveness. “Baby, how about I take care of her for you? One order. That’s all I need.”

I’d stopped him. Back then, I truly believed love was enough. That he would always be on my side.

How foolish.

Because months later, Samantha slithered her way into the legal counsel for Monstera Pack’s businesses. I wasn’t chosen, despite my record, despite my loyalty, because I wasn’t “clean-blooded” enough. My background was always the thorn in their perfect image.

And Samantha? She was a safe, palatable choice. The kind they could parade in front of pack councils.

Six months after that, Jason hired her again, this time not just for the pack, but as his personal legal adviser.

I still remember how casual his explanation was.

“We’re short on people,” he shrugged, his eyes already back on his reports. “Besides… don’t you think her personality’s interesting?”

Interesting. That word twisted something deep inside me. A quiet, sharp snap that echoed longer than it should’ve.

Still, I didn’t make a scene. I didn’t question him. I thought, foolishly, that his love for me was untouchable. That no one, not even someone like Samantha, could get between us.

But love, it turns out, is not a fortress. It’s glass. And glass shatters.

Because now, he wasn’t just listening to her. He was acting for her.

“I should’ve known when you hired her,” I muttered, more to myself. “When you gave her my spot on the Monstera pack’s legal counsel. When you said you found her ‘interesting.’”

He didn’t deny it.

“You’re not the man I married.”

He leaned forward. “And you’re not the sweet little omega who knew when to step down.”

Tears burned my eyes. My voice cracked. “If I don’t give you the evidence… will you really do it? Will you really ruin Diane’s name… our name—for her?”

Jason’s lips curled. “You can try and see.”

I broke. There’s no other word for it. Something inside me shattered like fragile glass. The part of me that loved him. That trusted him. That once believed in justice.

My hands signed the agreement. My name scratched onto the paper like a death sentence.

I didn’t look at him again.

I walked out of Monstera Tower with numb feet, barely noticing the golden crest above the doors. It felt like the end of a war, but I had lost more than the battle.

And soon, I find out I lost something greater.

The moment my phone rang, my heart stopped.

“Belle, come to the hospital quickly! Your sister attempted suicide!”

I don’t remember how I got there. Maybe I ran. Maybe I shifted. Maybe the world spun so fast I broke time itself.

But I was there, inside the cold, indifferent emergency wing of Monstera Pack Hospital. My mother was on the floor. Knees bruised. Hair a mess. Forehead bleeding as she kowtowed before the unmoved doctors.

“Please! Please save her! Please!”

Diane lay limp in her arms. Her wrist still bleeding. Eyes closed. Lips pale.

“Her body’s still warm!” a junior healer cried. “We can save her!”

But none moved.

“Why aren’t you helping?!” I screamed, grabbing a doctor by his collar.

He didn’t blink. “Alpha Jason ordered us to stay put.”

“Why?”

He glanced down the hall. “Samantha’s dog is in critical condition.”

I nearly vomited. “You’re letting my sister die for a dog?!”

“If it dies,” he said coldly, “Miss Samantha will be upset. If she’s upset… we’re all in trouble.”

I ran after them. Screamed. Begged. Clawed the walls. No one turned.

When I returned… She was cold.

My mother’s wails echoed louder than thunder. Diane’s blood still dripped from her gown onto the sterile floor.

“No… no, no, no—” I dropped beside her. Took Diane’s hand. “I’m sorry… Diane, I’m sorry—”

I slapped myself. Again. And again.

“I killed her… I let him—I—”

“Stop.” My mother’s voice cut through. Her hands gripped mine.

She was steady now. Eyes sharp. Bloodied but upright.

“We take her,” she said. “We leave this cursed pack.”

I looked up, dazed.

“In five days, Isabelle. We emigrate. We take Diane’s ashes and never look back.”

Isabelle

I was still holding my sister’s blood-stained shawl when my phone buzzed.

The screen lit up with his name, Jason Monstera. The man I had once married under the silver light of the moon. The man whose scent used to calm my wolf. Now, that very scent made my stomach turn.

I hesitated, thumb hovering over the message. My wolf growled low in my chest. She didn’t trust him anymore. Neither did I.

Jason:

[Within an hour, give Samantha her purse. She forgot about it. She’s at the royal auction. I already sent the address.]

No please. No courtesy. Just a command. As if I was a pack omega assigned to run errands. Not his wife. Not a lawyer of the High Wolf Court. Not someone who had just lost her only sister.

I stared at the message, tears blurring the screen. A bitter laugh escaped my throat, ragged and raw.

He didn’t even know what happened to Diane.

I typed back with trembling fingers.

[ have no time.]

A moment later, another message arrived.

A video.

My heart stopped. Not again.

The same vile footage. Diane’s screams. Her terror. Her helplessness. The laughter of the monster who hurt her.

I dropped the phone, bile rising in my throat.

My mother, curled on the floor nearby, reached for it. When her eyes met the screen, she gasped, then wailed.

“My daughter is already dead, and he still won’t stop!” she cried. “Ask him if he won’t be satisfied until he grinds my child’s bones to dust!”

I crawled to her, clutching her shoulders, trying to ground us both. “Mama… I’m sorry. I’ll fix this. I swear on the Moon Goddess, I’ll…”

But even my voice cracked. Because I didn’t know how to fix this.

All I knew was this: I had five days. Five days before we vanished. If Jason suspected anything, our plan would crumble. I couldn’t let that happen. Not for Mama. Not for Diane.

So I swallowed my rage. I picked up the purse.

And I ran.

The address Jason gave was vague at best, cryptic at worst. I rushed through the city, past stone-clad buildings echoing old pack pride, past nobles with gold-threaded cloaks and Luna-daughters flaunting silk gowns dyed in moon blossom petals.

Finally, I reached the auction hall, a towering estate blessed by the royal wolf family, reserved only for high-blooded aristocrats and their consorts.

And that’s when I saw him. The one from the video.

Diane’s rapist.

He leaned against a marble pillar, suit crisp, smirk smeared across his face like dirt on velvet.

I froze mid-step. My heart turned to ice.

“You must be Isabelle,” he said, voice slick. “Atty. Samantha told me to wait here. Said you’d bring the purse.”

He straightened his sleeves, tailored navy fabric, embroidered with a silver M.

“Custom-made by Sir Jason’s favorite tailor,” he added with a wink. “She said it suits me.”

I clutched the purse tightly, my claws threatening to tear through the leather. My wolf was at the edge of snapping, snarling through my bones.

“Your sister was a real treat,” he drawled. “But you? You both reek of the same desperate scent. You’re cut from the same filthy cloth.”

That did it.

My vision blurred with fury. I hurled the purse at his face with all the strength I had.

“You dare say her name?! You dare speak about my sister?! I’ll kill you!” I lunged at him, claws out, fists flying. “She was kind! She was gentle! She wasn’t supposed to die!”

He stumbled back as I pushed him. My blows weren’t coordinated, they were wild, filled with pain more than power. But I didn’t care. I wanted him to bleed. I wanted him to feel something.

A commotion stirred inside the auction hall. The heavy doors creaked open.

A voice, clear and cold, cut through the chaos.

“Isabelle,” Samantha said, appearing with Jason beside her. “Who gave you permission to assault my client?”

All eyes turned to us. The courtyard went quiet.

Jason’s arm wrapped possessively around Samantha’s waist. She leaned into it like it was hers to claim. The same arm that once held me.

“Apologize to him,” she commanded.

I was shaking. “He destroyed my sister. And you want me to—?”

“You shouldn’t make baseless claims,” she interrupted smoothly. “There’s been no ruling. What you’re saying is defamation.”

No ruling?

My sister was dead.

Before I could respond, the auction host’s voice rang through the speakers inside. “Next item! An untitled painting donated anonymously.”

The screen displayed an image. My breath caught.

It was Diane’s last painting.

I recognized it instantly. The shades of blue she always used when her heart was heavy, the solitary figure curled under a bleeding moon. It was hers. The one she had hidden away before she died.

I screamed. “No! That’s my sister’s! Give it back! That’s hers! You can’t auction her soul—you can’t!”

Guards rushed in, surrounding me. I tried to fight them off, tears blinding my vision.

Samantha smirked, folding her arms. “That painting was given to me. I donated it. Stop calling me a liar, Isabelle.”

“She never would’ve given it to you!”

Jason spoke, voice laced with venom. “Isabelle. Stop. Or you’ll be arrested.”

I stopped. Because if I didn’t, my mother would lose another daughter.

But then Samantha stepped forward. “You haven’t apologized to my client yet.”

“What?”

Jason’s voice rang out—calm, but final.

“Kneel. Apologize.”

I stared at him. The world tilted sideways. The auction guests stared from behind gilded pillars and champagne glasses.

“You’re serious?” I breathed.

“I said kneel.”

I took a step back. “Don’t you know he is—”

But before I could speak, Jason’s men moved.

They yanked my hair. Slammed my head to the ground. Blood blurred my sight. My hands scraped against stone.

Jason squatted beside me like he was admiring a display, handed me a handkerchief.

“Clean yourself up,” he said softly. “It’s pitiful. You used to be brilliant. Now look at you. Always dragging Samantha down with your dramatics.”

I knocked the handkerchief away. I stood up, wobbling, broken, but still upright.

He walked away without another glance, draping his arm around Samantha’s shoulder.

She smiled at me. “Jason, you’re driving me to your house tonight, right?”

He kissed her slowly. “Of course, baby.”

A final blow. As they left, I fell to my knees again—this time not from violence, but despair.

I walked home. No car. No escort. Just bloodied feet, a shredded soul, and the cold bite of autumn wind.

The Monstera estate loomed in the distanc, once a home, now a mausoleum of my dreams.

When I reached the door, I paused. Then I heard it.

Moans. High, breathy. Familiar.

I stood frozen. For nearly an hour.

The night was cold. But not colder than my heart.

I entered. Clothes strewn over the carpet I handpicked. Condoms on the bookshelf I’d built for law journals. The scent of sweat and sex clung to the air like rot.

I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. I walked past it all, heading for the stairs.

But she stopped me. Samantha. Wearing my towel. The blue one I bought in the Wolf Market.

She tilted her head. Smiled innocently. “Just so you know, Isabelle… I’m not a third party,” she said, voice honeyed with malice.

Isabelle

The cold scent of steel and betrayal hung in the air before Samantha even opened her mouth.

I should’ve known something was wrong the moment I caught her inside Jason’s private den, his most guarded space, the one even I, as his wife, had never been allowed to enter. Her fingers danced across the lock like she owned the place. Like she had the right.

Click. The safe creaked open.

And I watched in stunned silence as she pulled out a thin folder. She turned, eyes glittering with victory, and without hesitation, slapped the folder hard against my chest.

The weight of it hit harder than her hand ever could.

“A divorce agreement,” she said, lips curled in mock sympathy. “Signed and sealed. You’re not his wife anymore, Isabelle. You’ve been out of the picture for a long, long time.”

My fingers shook as I flipped the pages open. Every word felt like poison etched in ink. My name. My signature. All valid, all legal. I didn’t remember signing this… yet I had. Perhaps buried beneath layers of trust, perhaps in a document disguised as something else.

“He tricked me,” I whispered, voice barely audible over the blood pounding in my ears.

She smiled, baring her teeth like a wolf ready to feast. “We’re both lawyers, Belle. You of all people should know a signature’s a signature. Doesn’t matter if you were too stupid to read the fine print.”

I stood frozen, heart pounding in my chest like a drum of war. I still believed that he loved me in the three year of our marriage. Maybe I was the fool. Maybe I was clinging to nothing but memory.

Samantha leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Stop pretending like you still feel the bond. He didn’t even mate you when he took you as his wife, Isabelle. But look, he he touched me, he claimed me.”

My wolf growled low inside me, a sound only I could hear, wounded, but not dead.

“I’m just tying up loose ends,” she said sweetly, tucking the folder back into her arms like it was a gift. “Consider this my generous goodbye. I’ll even give you until tomorrow to get out.”

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I looked her dead in the eye and said with a voice cold as winter, “Alright then. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.”

My teeth clenched so tight I felt the pressure cut into my gums, but I didn’t flinch. I turned and walked away, each step slicing me open from the inside.

That night, I didn’t sleep.

I packed. Not with grief or desperation, but with something deeper. Numbness. The hollow space left when everything you built collapses around you and you’re still standing.

I moved through the rooms like a ghost, quietly folding the expensive dresses he gave me, the jewelry he draped over me like chains. All of it went into boxes. Not for storage, not for selling.

Destruction.

When Jason and Samantha left the estate the next morning, probably to celebrate the end of my existence, I made the call to a courier. When he arrived, I handed him the boxes and the destination address.

His brows furrowed. “Ma’am, this… this is a waste incineration plant.”

“I know,” I said. “And I’m tipping you to make sure those things burn.”

He nodded slowly, still stunned. “Yes, Miss—I mean… Attorney.”

I watched those boxes go, and with them, I shed one layer of my past. The gold and silk meant nothing now. Jason meant nothing now.

My phone buzzed.

I almost didn’t answer. But when I saw my mother’s name, I picked up.

Her voice was shaking, half-sobs, half-hysterical panic. “Isabelle… someone’s trying to take your sister’s shrine. They’re tearing it down, baby… her resting place—”

I dropped the phone.

I didn’t even put on shoes. Just shifted—half-shifted, claws protruding from my fingers, my eyes already glowing amber—and ran.

By the time I got there, I saw my mother on the ground, clutching my sister’s urn with desperate hands. Blood stained her palms where someone had yanked her away. I rushed to her, helping her up, heart pounding, fury rising.

“Who did this?!” I snarled, eyes blazing.

She pointed a shaking finger. “She said her precious little dog died and stole the shrine for herself—Isabelle, she pushed me. She tried to throw away your sister’s ashes!”

I turned, and I saw her.

Samantha.

Standing by the half-open shrine doors, smirking, her eyes swollen with crocodile tears.

She turned to me with feigned surprise. “Oh, Isabelle. Here to perform for sympathy again?”

The gall. The audacity.

“I’m here to bury my dog,” she sniffed, waving to a satin-wrapped box. “Surely that’s not too much to ask. Or are you so heartless you’d deny even a dog a proper burial?”

I stepped forward slowly, voice like thunder wrapped in silk. “You knew this shrine was already claimed. It was for my sister!”

She shrugged. “It’s not like your sister’s really in there, is she? After all… I knew you’re just hiding her because of the video.”

The dig hit like a blade in my gut. She was talking about the last footage ever taken of my twin—before her death.

I didn’t take the bait. I turned instead to the cemetery manager, who had arrived upon hearing the shouting.

“Sir,” I said, “This shrine was purchased and reserved for my sister. My family has the receipt. My mother hand-carved the nameplate herself. We have every right to defend this place.”

The manager nodded solemnly. “Ma’am, I remember. We don’t reassign shrines, not without formal cancellation and clearance. I’ll help Miss Samantha find another space.”

That should’ve been the end of it.

But Samantha screamed.

“You’re siding with her? She’s lying! You’re all being fooled, she’s manipulating you with this sob story. Her sister is not dead! And now she’s stealing from me—my dog deserves this!”

I ignored her. Walked straight to the shrine. Kneeling gently, I placed my sister’s urn back into place, fingers trembling.

“Heartless?” I whispered, loud enough for Samantha to hear. “That word suits you far better than it does me.”

She dropped to her knees behind me, fake wailing. It was almost laughable, until the scent hit me.

Jason.

He arrived like a thunderstorm, his aura oppressive, cold, dominant. His alpha presence alone sent the nearby wolves backing away in silence.

His eyes met mine with disdain. “Take that thing out of the shrine,” he ordered, voice like ice.

Then he lifted Samantha into his arms like a prized possession, cradling her as she sobbed against him.

I stepped forward, blocking the shrine entrance. My wolf was howling now. Loud. Furious. But I held her back.

“Do you even know whose ashes these are?” I asked.

Jason’s expression didn’t change. “So what if I do? What does it matter? You’re the one who keeps causing trouble. You brought this on yourself.”

He gave a signal. One of the guards grabbed the urn.

“No—!” I shouted, reaching for it—

Too late. The urn shattered on the ground. The ashes spilled into the dirt.

Another guard, unprovoked, stomped on them.

My mother screamed. Fell to her knees. Tried to scoop up the ashes with trembling fingers. Her grief was raw, animalistic.

I was frozen. My hands trembled, blood seeping from where my claws dug into my own palms.

“You don’t understand,” I whispered, barely holding it together. “This is my sister’s… this is—”

Jason cut me off.

“I knew you’d try something pathetic like this,” he sneered. “Keep lying and I’ll turn your lie into truth.”

Then he walked away. Holding her. Everyone followed.

Only the silence remained. And the ashes. And us.

I dropped to the ground beside my mother, dirt mixing with tears. My hands pawed through what was left of my sister… ash, bone fragments, soil.

There was no strength left in me.

No pride. Just the hollow ache of a shattered bond, and the Moon Goddess’s cruel silence.

If she was watching, I begged her now—avenge this.

Because I would never forget.