Aria’s POV

I had spent the entire night packing, folding, and re-folding clothes I no longer wanted, touching keepsakes that had lost their meaning. My room in the pack house looked bare, almost lifeless, and I almost laughed at the irony.

The engagement papers lay on the desk, already bearing my signature. The break had to be finalized with his mark, and then everything would truly end. I ran my fingers across the edge of the parchment, feeling the sting in my chest that no tears could ease. Fifteen years of devotion, trust, and bond—reduced to ink on a page.

I called him. Once, twice, three times. Silence. Alpha Kael’s voice had once been the only sound that calmed my restless wolf, but now it was the sound he refused to give that drove me restless. With a heavy sigh, I dialed Livia instead.

Her voice came sweet, dripping with victory. “He’s here with me. If you need him, come to this address.”

The moment she gave it, my chest tightened. That villa. The one he had sworn belonged only to us. The villa where we first gave ourselves to each other, where he swore to protect me until the Moon Goddess herself called him away. So it wasn’t secret anymore. It wasn’t sacred anymore. It was just another den for lies.

I told myself to keep my steps steady, but as the car drew closer, my wolf stirred in agitation. I smelled them even before I entered—the heady scent of his musk tangled with her perfume, thick in the air like a mockery. And when I opened the door, there they were. His lips on hers. His hand pressed against her back as if she was the only woman his body had ever ached for.

My wolf whimpered, but I kept my chin high. I wouldn’t cry. Not anymore.

“Alpha,” I called, my voice sharper than the blade I wished I had.

He froze, pulling back with a guilty start, though guilt didn’t linger long in his eyes. Livia smirked, brushing her lips with the back of her hand, triumphant.

“I only came for one thing,” I said, holding up the papers. “Your signature. After this, we’re finished.”

His gaze flicked to the parchment, then to me. Cold. Detached. He didn’t argue, didn’t ask why. He just took the pen and signed. The finality of his strokes cut deeper than any blade could.

“There,” he said, his voice flat. “You’re free.”

No, I thought bitterly. You’re free.

“I’ll pick up the rest of my belongings here,” I added, forcing my voice to remain steady. “There are things I left behind.”

His jaw tensed. “Your things have been moved. To the basement.”

I didn’t argue. I only turned and descended, each step echoing louder than my heartbeat. And there they were—my dresses crumpled, boxes torn open, everything coated with dust as if my presence had been erased long before my body had left. I knelt and began to gather them, piece by piece, forcing myself not to break.

That was when she appeared. Livia.

Her footsteps clicked against the stone floor, her smugness filling the space. “You’re still here,” she said, her voice sweet but edged with venom. “I knew you would be. Still clinging, still hoping. Do you think Kael will change his mind just because you look pitiful down here?”

I froze, clutching one of my old dresses tighter.

“You can’t let go, can you?” she pressed on, circling me like a predator. “You want him to see you as weak and helpless, so he’ll come running back. But he won’t. He’s mine now. And I’ll show you why you should stop embarrassing yourself.”

Before I could reply, she shoved her hands against the heavy wooden cabinet that stood to the side. My wolf sensed the danger too late. The furniture groaned and began to topple.

I spun, but there was no space, nowhere to dodge. The weight of it came crashing down.

A roar filled the air—his roar. Kael. He lunged forward, his arms wrapping around Livia, pulling her to safety. And me? The impact crushed me to the floor, pain exploding in my body.

Darkness swarmed, but even as my breath faltered, one thought steadied me. It’s better this way. Better to be hurt physically than to keep bleeding in my heart. I don’t love him anymore.

The world faded.

When I woke, soft light filtered through the curtains. I was in a bed, not the basement floor. My body ached, but the healer standing nearby murmured, “The injuries are not grave. Bruises, sprains. You’ll heal.”

Beside him sat Elder Naomi, her eyes red from worry. She clasped my hand, her voice trembling. “Aria, my child. I feared the worst.”

I tried to sit up, but the pain forced me down again. “I’m fine,” I whispered, though my throat was dry.

“You’re not fine.” Her voice cracked, but it carried a strength I had always admired. She reached for her phone, her hands shaking as she called her son.

The line clicked. “Kael,” she snapped, her voice sharp. “How could you leave her like that? She could have died! You go and apologize this instant!”

The silence stretched. Then his voice came, colder than ice. “I won’t apologize. If she dies, she dies. She’s not my fiancée anymore.”

The words stabbed through me, sharper than any wound the cabinet had left. Elder Naomi’s hand trembled around mine as tears welled in her eyes. She ended the call, her shoulders sagging with grief.

“I am sorry, Aria,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I raised him better. He was not supposed to be this cruel.”

I shook my head. “It’s not your fault.”

She sat for a long moment, then finally sighed, her wolf aura pressing heavy with sorrow. “Before you leave for the capital, allow me to give you something. A dowry. I am still friends with your mother, and though my son has failed you, I will not. Let me at least send you away with something to protect you. To remind you that someone in this pack still cares.”

Her words pierced through my numbness. I wanted to refuse, but her gaze pleaded with me, so filled with regret and longing to mend what could not be mended. I only nodded, whispering, “Thank you, Elder Naomi.”

Her expression softened with relief. She squeezed my hand. “Good. Then you will not walk into the capital with nothing.”

The moment was tender, almost fragile—until the door slammed open.

“Who’s going to the capital?”

Aria’s POV

“Who’s going to the capital?”

The voice rang through the room like a whip, sharp and commanding. My heart gave a jolt as Alpha Kael stepped inside, his presence filling the space in that arrogant, unyielding way that always made it hard to breathe.

Elder Naomi straightened, her wolf aura firm, but her voice calm. “Aria will go.”

Her words made the decision sound simple, almost ceremonial. And so, I lifted my chin and gave a small nod, confirming it myself. “Yes. I will.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed, his gaze pinning me as though he could dig into the marrow of my bones. Then, without hesitation, he said, “Then I will accompany you.”

The words hit me like a stone to the chest. For a moment, I couldn’t even process them. He wanted to come with me? To the capital?

I let out a bitter laugh in my head. How ironic.

Just a few months ago, I had asked him to go with me. I had begged him to make time, to walk beside me on that journey. He had promised. But on the day of the flight, I had stood at the airport for hours. Waiting until the terminals emptied. Waiting until my hope crumbled. Midnight had come, but he never had.

Later, I found out why. Livia.

She had whispered to him about how she wanted to see the world—cities, packs, oceans—anything beyond the poor omega life she came from. And behind my back, he had booked tickets with her, flying across territories, spending nearly a month at her side.

And now, here he was. Saying he would accompany me.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I only knew the bitterness sat heavy in my throat.

“You don’t have to,” I said quietly, my eyes never leaving his.

But Kael, being Kael, smirked as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. “No. I will. Because I know you. You’ll cry later, beg me to come. You’ve always been afraid to travel alone.”

His words were sharp with arrogance, laced with the dominance he always wore. Once upon a time, they would have cut me, and I might have clung to him despite the wound. But now, I only stared at him, silent.

Inside, my wolf stirred. She wanted to snap back, to tell him we were no longer that fragile, no longer the woman who couldn’t breathe without him. I wanted to tell him that I had learned how to do things alone. That he wasn’t my anchor anymore.

But I said nothing.

My silence seemed to unsettle him. His eyes lingered on me, searching, testing. At last, he sighed, turning away. “Fine. I’ll check on Livia now. She’s frightened.”

Of course. Livia was frightened. Always frightened. Always needing him.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to scoff. He could save her, coddle her, shield her from shadows if he wished. She had already taken everything else.

But then he turned back, his gaze sliding to his mother. His words, casual yet cutting, fell into the air like a blade, “Mother, take care of your daughter-in-law.”

For a moment, I froze. Daughter-in-law. My heart stuttered at the title. It was the first time I had heard it since he’d signed the break-off papers. Did he say it out of habit? Out of cruelty? Or was it his way of pretending Livia didn’t exist for the span of a heartbeat?

Elder Naomi flinched, her gaze flickering toward me, filled with sorrow. But I only forced a small smile, my lips curving in a way that wasn’t joy at all. “I’m fine, Alpha,” I replied softly, though the word was for him more than her.

His eyes met mine again. A storm brewed there—anger, guilt, maybe even something deeper—but he quickly masked it. “I’ll come with you to the capital,” he repeated, as if declaring it would make it true.

I gave him another smile, this one sharper. “Yes.”

The air grew heavy between us, our wolves silent in the tension.

Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “Tomorrow, I’ll buy you your favorite sushi. The one from the shop near the plaza. You always crave it before a trip.”

A shard of memory pierced me, him feeding me that very sushi years ago, when we were inseparable, when he wanted to know every detail of my likes and dislikes. Now, it felt like a cruel echo.

I nodded once, curtly. “Goodbye.”

The word tasted final, though he didn’t seem to hear it that way. He lingered for a breath, as if waiting for me to call him back, to soften, to let him in again.

But I didn’t.