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.

Isabelle

The air in our small home was stifling, not with heat, but with grief.

Mama sat curled into herself by the window, her eyes unfocused, her trembling fingers tracing the shape of the cracked windowpane as though it could give her answers the Moon Goddess refused to. Her silver-streaked hair framed her pale face like a crown of ashes. Since the graveyard incident, since they desecrated my sister’s memory, she hadn’t been the same. Her wolf was withdrawn, hiding deep inside her, too broken to surface.

I knelt beside her and gently took her frail hand into mine.

“We’re leaving in two days,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Just two more nights, Mama. Then we’re gone. No more of Jason. No more of this cursed pack. I promise you.”

She blinked, slow and unsure, as if trying to recognize me. Then a tear slid down her cheek. She didn’t speak, she rarely did anymore, but her fingers tightened slightly around mine.

I already had our bags packed, hidden beneath the floorboards of my old bedroom. I didn’t dare tell anyone, not even old Midra, who sold us herbs and sometimes helped cover my tracks. The Monstera Pack wasn’t safe anymore. Not when Jason was about to rise to power, not since he took everything from me.

I rested my head against Mama’s leg and closed my eyes. For once, there was a fragile peace between us, like the eye of a hurricane.

Until the door exploded.

A loud bang rattled the hinges, followed by another, then another.

My wolf rose to attention, bristling. I stood up, positioning myself in front of my mother. “Who is it?” I barked, though I already knew.

The door was kicked open, and three of Jason’s wolves stormed in, dressed in matching black shirts with the Monstera Pack emblem over their hearts. Their eyes glowed faintly, indicating their wolves were near the surface. All three were tall, built like stone, and smelled of iron and blood.

One of them, a sneering brute named Calric, stepped forward. “Alpha Jason sends his regards.”

He tossed a sleek, blood-red envelope onto the table, the gold wax seal already cracked.

“You’re invited to Miss Samantha’s birthday banquet. Tonight.”

I didn’t move. “I’m not going.”

Calric smirked. “That’s unfortunate. Because if you don’t attend…” He turned, grabbed my mother by the arm, and yanked her to her feet.

“Let her go!” I screamed, shifting half into my wolf before I forced myself back. Mama whimpered, struggling in his grip.

“Stop! Please—” I swallowed bile. “I’ll go. I’ll go! Just let go of my mother!”

They released her like she was nothing more than garbage. She collapsed into the chair, wheezing softly.

I clenched my fists so hard my claws pierced my palms. My pride meant nothing. My dignity meant less. All that mattered now was keeping her safe.

---

The banquet hall was gilded in marble and glass, so opulent it made my stomach turn. Chandeliers sparkled above me, and perfume laced with dominance and power hung in the air. Samantha had transformed the venue into a stage for her glory. Laughter, clinking glasses, and the murmurs of Alphas and their Lunas filled the room.

I was the only one not dressed to impress.

While they sparkled, I stood in plain black. No makeup. No jewelry. Just defiance wrapped in shame.

Samantha stood at the center of the stage, dressed in midnight blue velvet. She looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine—curled hair, red lips, perfect posture. Jason stood beside her, arm lazily wrapped around her waist. His eyes scanned the crowd.

Then landed on me.

There was a flicker there, brief and sharp, like an old memory surfacing. That same look he used to give me when we were alone, before everything turned to ash.

Samantha spotted me and grinned like a wolf baring its teeth. “Attorney Isabelle,” she said sweetly into the mic. “You made it after all.”

I didn’t answer. I stood still, silent, like prey waiting for the arrow.

“I’ve prepared a little surprise just for you tonight.” She giggled, then leaned closer to me as I was ushered toward the stage. “I know how much you like… sentiment.”

I didn’t understand it at all. And my whole being got distracted when I felt something personal shifted in the air.

My breath hitched. A presence. A pull.

Warmth surged through my chest. My wolf stirred violently, snarling and howling at once, disoriented. My knees weakened. My breath shortened.

Mate. My mate is somewhere here…

I didn’t know where he was, who he was—but I felt him. Somewhere in this crowd. A magnetic pull, drawing my soul forward even as my body remained frozen.

The fated mate bond.

It was real. It was raw. It was… Until suddenly it was…

Gone.

Because then, the screen lowered, and with it, my world collapsed.

Moans echoed through the hall. Familiar, horrifying, recorded sounds. I recognized them before the image even appeared.

My sister. My twin.

The same footage they’d used to torment her in private. But now, it was playing for the entire pack to see.

“No…” I gasped, stepping forward.

The guards blocked me.

“Turn it off!” I shouted. “TURN IT OFF!”

Laughter. Whispers.

“Wasn’t she the one who was assaulted?”

“Look at her face. She was enjoying it.”

“Maybe it wasn’t assault after all.”

I couldn’t breathe. My wolf was screeching, clawing inside me.

Samantha sauntered up to me, all smiles. “Aren’t you touched, Isabelle?”

“How fucking dare you!” Rage exploded in my veins. I slapped her, hard.

The sound cracked through the room. Samantha stumbled backward, caught by Jason, who cradled her like she was the one who’d been wronged.

“Are you insane?!” Jason bellowed. “What did you just do?!”

I faced him, shaking with fury. “Are you really this cruel? Do you really have to torment my sister until this very moment? How dare you do this to someone you once loved?! Or did you ever love me… huh?”

“You only see Samantha,” I hissed. “You never even saw me as a person now.”

He stiffened. “You know the agreement, Isabelle.”

That stopped me cold. The agreement.

“If you speak out again…” he continued, loud enough for only me to hear, “the next video will be your mother’s.”

My soul shattered. He’d gone from blackmail to psychological warfare.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry.

I simply said, “I’ll remember tonight for the rest of my life.”

And I walked out.

---

I never made it far.

Hands grabbed me in the alley behind the venue. A hood was yanked over my head. I screamed, kicked, but they were wolves. Bigger. Trained.

“I’m a lawyer!” I shouted. “You’re violating every code—”

Slap.

The first hit spun my head sideways.

Slap.

Slap.

Over and over. A hundred times.

I lost count.

Blood mixed with spit in my mouth. My face swelled. My vision blurred. I heard one of them speak.

“Sir Jason, 100 slaps. All done.”

A pause.

“Good,” came the voice from the phone. “I already sent the money.”

Then silence. And darkness.

I lay there on the damp ground, hooded, humiliated, and hollow. My wolf whimpered inside me.

But I couldn’t even find the strength to cry.