At last, I spoke the words I had been rehearsing for days. "Alpha, as you wish, I'm leaving."

I almost slipped—almost blurted out that I wanted to sever our bond entirely. But I caught myself just in time. After all, what did our so-called mateship even mean? It had been nothing more than a rushed ceremony, a mere formality. We weren’t truly married, nor had we ever built a real life together. There had been no love, no deep connection—only the bare minimum of what a bond should be. A hollow tie that had never truly been forged in the first place.

Ronan didn’t even bother to glance up, his full attention still on Adeline as if I were nothing more than an unwelcome disruption in his carefully crafted world. "What now? Changing your tactics?" His voice was as cold as ever, laced with mockery. "You think, now that you can’t use your son to manipulate me anymore, you’ll try using yourself instead?"

His words struck me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. A year ago, Kieran had been diagnosed with an untreatable illness. His frail heart, his inability to heal—everything had pointed to a grim fate. He was just a child, too weak to shift, too fragile to connect with his wolf. Every day, his life had hung by a thread while I watched in helpless agony, knowing he was slipping further away. And throughout it all, he had only asked for one thing—to see his father.

Ronan had never visited him, never shown the slightest concern. In his mind, I had only ever used Kieran to gain sympathy, to guilt-trip him into caring. And now, after ten years together, that was all I was to him—a manipulative woman desperate for attention.

I blinked away the sting of tears, refusing to let him see me break. "Believe whatever you want, Alpha. I'm leaving."

With that, I turned on my heel, dragging my suitcase toward the door. But before I could make it out, Adeline’s voice cut through the silence, feigning innocence. "Alpha, didn’t you plan to take Kieran to the ocean? You didn’t cancel that just for the mountain trip with me, did you? Anastasia’s upset..."

Ronan’s voice was gentle, almost soothing—a stark contrast to the cold indifference he always reserved for me. "Don’t worry, I know my priorities. We can visit the ocean anytime, but once the snow melts in the mountains, it'll be a long time before we can see it again."

A bitter scoff escaped my lips, sharp and cutting. How blind could he be? How utterly oblivious to the damage he had done? He didn’t know. He couldn’t possibly know that there would be no next time, no next trip, no next month for Kieran.

I clenched my jaw and strode toward the door, determined to leave. But before I could, Ronan moved, seizing my wrist in frustration. "It’s the middle of the night, Anastasia. Do you really think this is necessary? You’re crying over missing one trip to the ocean? Kieran can wait."

His words cut deeper than any blade. Even now, even after everything, he didn’t understand. He didn’t care enough to understand. His eyes flickered toward my face, finally registering the redness and swelling of my tear-streaked cheeks. For the first time, a hint of pity entered his gaze. "I’ll clear my schedule next month. I’ll take Kieran then, alright?"

Next month? What next month? What future did Kieran have left? If only Ronan had cared just a little more, maybe he wouldn’t be standing here, saying something so absurd.

I wrenched my hand free, my voice trembling with barely contained fury. "No need!"

Ronan stared at his empty palm, visibly stunned. He had never expected this—never imagined that the woman who had once clung to him so desperately would now recoil from him like he was a curse. He hesitated, then made a move to follow me, but Adeline, ever the center of his universe, clutched his arm, pulling him back.

"Alpha, it’s my fault," she murmured, her voice laced with false remorse. "I shouldn’t have competed for your attention. Even though I knew Kieran was faking his illness, I still—"

Faking…?

The world seemed to tilt, my breath catching in my throat. My entire body went cold.

Before I could even process the words, my hand had already moved on its own.

The sharp crack of the slap echoed through the room.

Adeline stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek, eyes wide in disbelief. But I didn’t care. My palm tingled from the impact, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough to drown out the storm of rage surging inside me.

Ronan's face, which had initially shown a flicker of guilt, hardened in an instant. His expression turned cold as he instinctively positioned Adeline behind him, shielding her while his eyes darkened with accusation. "Anastasia, what are you doing? She’s your sister!"

I locked eyes with Adeline, barely restraining my rage. "You better watch your mouth."

Adeline widened her eyes, feigning innocence as she leaned closer to my mate, her presence making my wolf bristle with unease. "Alpha, I don’t want to come between you two. If my sister refuses to admit that Kieran is faking his illness, then I’ll just drop it."

Disbelief surged through me. My brow furrowed as I turned to Ronan, my voice shaking. "You think Kieran is faking it too?"

His silence was answer enough. He didn't believe me. He never did.

Then, I caught him scanning the room, his eyes searching for our son. But Kieran was nowhere in sight. "Where did you hide him this time?" His voice dripped with suspicion, laced with an accusation that cut me deeper than any blade.

If only he came home more often, he would see the reality—the table littered with medicine bottles, the never-ending pile of medical reports from our wolf healers, the sleepless nights Kieran endured. But instead, he chose to believe Adeline's lies—the poisonous words that painted Kieran as a manipulative child rather than the sick, fragile boy he truly was.

I remembered the day Kieran confided in me, his small voice trembling as he told me he didn’t have much time left. His last wish was simple: to see the ocean one final time. He had always been enchanted by the sea, mesmerized by its endless waves and mysteries—a love passed down from the stories his late grandmother used to tell him. But we lived far from the coast, and the only way to make his wish come true was to get Ronan to agree.

So I had begged him. No, I had humiliated myself—kneeling before him, clutching the fabric of his pants as I pleaded. "Please," I had whispered, my voice breaking. "This will be the last thing I ever ask of you. I swear… after this, I’ll set you free."

Ronan had looked down at me then, something flickering in his gaze. Was it relief? Satisfaction? I couldn't tell. "You mean that?" he had asked, his voice void of warmth, calculating.

"Yes," I had murmured, closing my eyes as tears streamed down my face, feeling the last remnants of my dignity shatter.

The bitter truth was that when Ronan was young, he had lost his parents in a rogue attack, leaving him a lone wanderer. I could still recall the day I found him—a frail, half-starved boy lying unconscious on the forest floor. I had been just a child myself, playing among the trees, when I stumbled upon him. He was nothing but skin and bones, his body covered in grime, his lips cracked from thirst.

My heart had clenched painfully at the sight. "You poor thing," I had whispered, brushing aside the tangled strands of hair from his dirt-streaked face. "You must be starving."

His hollow eyes had flickered open, filled with a fear that spoke of countless nights spent alone. Something in me had fractured at that moment. I couldn’t leave him there. I couldn’t let him die.

Reaching for his frail hand, I had pulled him up with all the strength my small arms could muster. "Come with me," I had said, my voice filled with quiet determination. "I’ll take care of you."

When I brought him home, my parents—Alpha Theron and Luna Faye Leclair of the Obsidian Howl Pack—had been wary. My father’s stern voice still echoed in my memories. "Anastasia, he’s a stranger."

But I had refused to back down. "Please, Father," I had begged, desperation tightening my throat. "He has no one else. If we don’t help him, he’ll die!"

My mother, always the gentler soul, had looked at Ronan with quiet pity. "Theron," she had murmured, placing a hand on my father’s arm. "He’s just a child."

Even then, my father had hesitated, his expression unreadable. He had not been easily swayed. And so, I had done the only thing I could think of—I went on a hunger strike.

For days, I refused to eat, growing weaker with each passing moment. But I had remained steadfast, determined to prove that I would not relent until they agreed. Eventually, my father had sighed in resignation. "Alright, Anastasia," he had said, his voice laced with reluctance. "We’ll take him in."

That day, I had thought Ronan became my brother.

Or so I had believed.

When I turned eighteen, everything shifted. My father, consumed by ambition for power and territory, began to disregard my mother, who had once been just an ordinary she-wolf before becoming Luna. He sought out the daughter of a powerful Alpha from another pack, lured by the promise of dominance and prestige. Without hesitation, he cast my mother aside, rejecting her as his mate, and instead bonded with this other woman, ultimately claiming the position of Alpha in the Phantom Moon Pack.

That was the kind of man he was—selfish beyond measure.

Without looking back, he abandoned us. "You and Adeline should come with me," he had said, his voice void of affection or concern. "There’s nothing for you here."

But I couldn’t leave my mother behind. "I’m staying with Mom," I had responded with unwavering resolve. "She needs me."

Adeline, however, was different. She craved the status, the influence, the life that came with our father’s new rank. Without hesitation, she chose to follow him, leaving me and our mother behind without so much as a second thought.

I watched her leave that day, standing at the very edge of our pack’s borders. "Adeline," I had called out, my voice raw with desperation. "Don’t go."

She had turned back only once, her gaze distant and devoid of warmth. "This is our opportunity, Anastasia," she had said, her tone eerily detached. "I’m not wasting it."

In the years that followed, I became the target of Ronan’s resentment. He blamed me for everything—for keeping him from following Adeline, for trapping him in the Obsidian Howl Pack, for holding him back from the future he thought he deserved. And when I became his mate, his hatred for me only deepened.

As a child, I had always admired Ronan, trailing after him like his shadow. I adored him. He was my world. So when I turned eighteen and discovered that he was my mate, I was overjoyed. I thought it was fate—that we were meant to be together.

But Ronan didn’t see it that way. The moment I told him we were mates, his reaction crushed me.

"No," he had said, his voice cold and final. "This isn’t right. I was supposed to be with Adeline."

His words shattered me. "Ronan, please," I had begged, tears streaking down my face. "We’re fated to be together. You can’t just leave me."

But he had been ready to walk away, prepared to abandon me, to follow Adeline and pledge himself to the Phantom Moon Pack.

Then, my mother fell ill. And on her deathbed, she made Ronan swear an oath—to stay by my side, to protect me as his fated mate. Out of obligation to the woman who had raised him, he agreed. But in his heart, I knew he resented her for binding him to me, for forcing him to remain where he didn’t want to be.

And after my father’s departure, leadership of the pack fell to me. Even then, I knew how much Ronan craved power, so I willingly handed him the title of Alpha, content to serve as Luna in the background. Yet, despite our bond, despite everything, he never once announced me as his Luna.

One day, I confronted him. "Ronan," I had asked, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "Why haven’t you acknowledged me as your Luna?"

His response was a dagger straight to my heart.

"Your mother forced me to mate with you. And now you expect me to make you Luna too? Keep dreaming, Anastasia. That title will always belong to your sister."

His words wounded me deeper than any physical attack ever could. At that moment, I knew—I was nothing to him. I had no place in his heart. That space had always been reserved for Adeline.

But I had one last plea, one final desperate wish: Kieran’s trip to the ocean. I was ready to set Ronan free, to finally let him go. But even then, he refused to grant me that one moment of peace.

He could never love me—I had come to accept that. But how could he be so cruel to Kieran? How could he turn his back on his own son?