Alexia POV

I stood anchored in the shadows at the edge of the Pack square, the damp earth seeping through the thin soles of my shoes. Overhead, the sky hemorrhaged red and gold as fireworks exploded, screaming in celebration of the new Luna.

Kassandra.

My hand throbbed—a dull, rhythmic reminder of who Jacob had chosen to save.

*Alexia.*

Jacob’s voice slid into my mind, slick with false remorse. The sensation made my stomach turn.

*I know you’re upset,* he continued via the *Mind-Link*. *I’ve been so busy with the security protocols after the attack. I didn't mean to ignore you.*

"Busy," I whispered to the darkness. He wasn't busy. He was crowning her.

*I love her ability to lead,* Jacob said, his thoughts messy and leaking into mine. *But I love your gentleness, Alexia. You balance me. A Wolf needs his Alpha female, but a man needs his soft place to land. You can be that for me. We can make this work.*

The audacity stole the breath from my lungs. He wanted a queen on his arm and a slave in his bed. He wanted the best of both worlds while I burned in the middle.

*You don't love me, Jacob,* I projected back, my mental voice sharp as a blade. *You love that I make you feel powerful. You love that I take your pain so you don't have to feel it.*

There was a pause on his end. A heavy hesitation.

*How is your hand?* he asked, the question feeling like a polite afterthought.

*My hand is destroyed because you chose her,* I replied. *You let her crush my bones while you played hero.*

*That’s not fair—*

*Alexia!* Kassandra’s voice screeched into the link, shattering the moment like breaking glass. *Stop harassing him! We are trying to have a moment! You ungrateful wretch.*

*Kassandra, calm down,* Jacob soothed her instantly. The shift in his tone was immediate. He went from repentant lover to fierce protector in a heartbeat. *She’s just... confused.*

A moment later, a young Omega runner came panting up to the edge of the infirmary building where I was lurking. He held a heavy velvet pouch, his eyes darting nervously as if he were approaching a wounded animal.

"Luna Kassandra sent this," he mumbled, refusing to meet my gaze. "She said... she said it's your severance pay. Since you can't play piano anymore, you'll need it to survive in the human world."

I took the bag. It was heavy. Gold coins. Pack currency.

Inside was a note, written in Kassandra’s looping, childish scrawl: *For the cripple. Don't spend it all on painkillers.*

Rage, hot and blinding, flooded my veins. It wasn't the insult. It was the audacity.

I didn't leave. Not yet.

I walked out of the shadows. I walked straight into the searing light of the bonfire. The music died down as people noticed me—the disheveled, bloodied Omega with a cast on her arm, marching toward the dais like a specter haunting a feast.

Kassandra gasped, clutching Jacob’s arm with theatrical fear. "She's going to attack me!"

I stopped at the foot of the platform. I looked up at them. They looked like royalty. I looked like a ghost.

I raised the velvet bag.

"I don't want your charity, Kassandra," I said, my voice cutting through the silence. "And I certainly don't want your blood money."

I threw the bag.

It hit the wooden platform right at her feet with a heavy thud. The fabric burst open. Gold coins spilled out, clinking and rolling across the stage, glittering mockingly in the firelight.

"These coins," I said, pointing at them with my good hand. "They aren't worth a single note of the music I wrote for this Pack. The music *you* stole."

Kassandra turned pale. "She's lying! Jacob, she's lying! I wrote those hymns!"

"You can't even read sheet music," I spat.

Kassandra grabbed her chest, her breathing becoming ragged. "My heart... Jacob... she's hurting me..."

It was a performance. A bad one. But it was enough for him.

Jacob’s face twisted into a snarl. He stepped in front of Kassandra, shielding her from me—from the broken woman who weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet.

"Enough, Alexia!" he roared, the Alpha Command vibrating in the air. "Get out of my sight!"

I looked at him. Really looked at him. The man I had worshipped since I was a child. The man who was supposed to be my other half.

"Tell me, Jacob Alpha," I said softly, the Command washing over me without taking hold because my heart was already gone. "Do you love her? Or do you just love her lies?"

Alexia POV

Jacob’s mouth opened, but the words died in his throat.

He looked down at Kassandra, who was sobbing into his chest, and then lifted his gaze to me, standing alone in the dirt.

The silence between us stretched, heavy and suffocating, amplified by the crackling of the bonfire.

Then, Kassandra let out a long, dramatic wail, collapsing entirely into his arms.

"Take me away, Jacob! Her aura... it’s suffocating me! Get me away from her!"

Jacob didn't look at me again. He swept her up, bridal style, and turned his back.

"The celebration continues!" he commanded the Pack over his shoulder, his voice strained as he tried to salvage the mood.

He carried her away toward the Alpha house, leaving me in the shadows.

I stood there for a moment longer. I watched the Pack members—people I had healed, people I had grown up with—avert their eyes. They shifted on their feet, staring resolutely at their cups. They went back to their drinks. They went back to the party.

The message was clear: *You do not exist.*

A strange sensation washed over me. It wasn't pain. It wasn't anger.

It was numbness. A beautiful, cold numbness.

The tether in my chest, the one that had pulled me toward Jacob for five years, finally snapped. It didn't snap with a bang. It simply withered away, shriveling like a dead vine in winter.

I turned around.

I walked away from the light of the bonfire, toward the edge of the territory where the servants' shacks were located. My destination wasn't the exit yet. It was my "studio"—a damp shed behind the kitchens where I slept.

The moon was high now, a sliver of silver watching me with cold indifference.

*I am not a Luna,* I thought, the realization settling in my bones. *I am not a Mate. I am just Alexia.*

I reached my shack. It smelled of mold, damp earth, and old paper.

I didn't have much. Just a few clothes and my music.

I grabbed my battered suitcase from under the cot. I threw in a change of clothes. I looked at the pile of sheet music on my desk—the originals. The ones Kassandra hadn't managed to steal yet.

I took a lighter from the drawer.

I picked up the sheet music for "Alpha's Lullaby," the song I wrote for Jacob when his father died.

I flicked the lighter. A small, hungry flame danced to life.

I set the corner of the paper on fire.

I watched it burn. I watched the notes curl and blacken into ash. I threw it into the metal trash can and added more. "The Dawn Chorus." "The Winter Hymn."

I burned them all.

I stripped off the cheap necklace Jacob had given me years ago—a piece of cloudy glass he claimed was a diamond. I held it for a second, feeling its lack of warmth, then threw it into the fire.

Then, I pulled out my diary.

This wasn't just a diary. It was a log. Every time Jacob used the *Mind-Link* to force me to play, I wrote it down. Every time Kassandra threatened me, I wrote it down.

I didn't burn this.

I sat down and wrote a cover letter. My hand shook, pain shooting up my arm, but I forced the pen to move.

*To the Werewolf Council,*

*Enclosed is the record of the abuse of power within the Obsidian Pack...*

I sealed it in a waterproof envelope. I would mail it from the human world.

I looked around the empty room. With the music gone, it looked like a cell.

"Goodbye," I whispered.

I walked out the door. The fire in the trash can was dying down, leaving nothing but ash and melted glass.

Just like what we were.

Alexia POV

The celebration was still roaring in the distance, a relentless pulse of bass and drunken howling that vibrated through the ground.

I moved like a shadow through the trees, heading for the northern border. It was the most treacherous route, bordering the Rogue lands, but crucially, it was the only one unguarded during the party.

I paused at the ridge overlooking the valley. The moonlight washed over the very spot where Jacob had found me, years ago. I was a starving orphan back then, playing a flute made of reed. He had called me his "little miracle."

*Liar.*

The memory tasted like ash.

I intended to send the formal Rejection through the link right then and there. I wanted to feel the bond shatter while I was still on Pack soil.

*I, Alexia Bell, reject—*

A mechanical shriek shattered the night.

The perimeter alarms screamed. Red lights strobed violently along the fence line.

*ROGUES!* The mental shout echoed through the Pack link, sharp with panic. *North Breach! Multiple targets!*

My heart stopped. I was at the North Breach.

Shadows detached themselves from the trees ahead of me. Not men. Wolves. Mangy, scarred, and reeking of rot.

I scrambled backward, clutching my broken arm to my chest. I couldn't shift. My wolf was dormant, buried under the weight of injury and trauma.

*Jacob!* I screamed into the link, instinct taking over. *I'm at the North Ridge! There are five of them!*

I waited for the response. I waited for the hero. I waited for the Alpha to come charging in to save his Mate.

Silence.

Then, Jacob’s voice boomed through the link, commanding the warriors.

*Protect the Alpha House! Secure the Luna! Kassandra is the priority! All units to the center!*

The command hit me harder than any physical blow.

He wasn't coming. He heard me, and he ordered everyone to the center. To her.

A rogue wolf lunged at me, jaws snapping.

I threw myself to the side, rolling down the embankment. Thorns and brambles tore at my skin. I hit the bottom of the ravine hard, the breath knocked out of me in a painful wheeze.

The rogue snarled from the top of the ridge, but the sirens and the blazing lights from the main house drew its attention. It turned and ran toward the party, toward the easy prey.

I lay in the mud, gasping for air.

He had left me to die. Again.

That was it. The final nail.

I didn't bother with the formal words. They didn't deserve the dignity of a ritual.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the medical report I had stolen from Doc Evans' office earlier. The one that detailed the crush injury. The one that explicitly noted the angle of the break was consistent with a boot stomp, not a bite.

With a trembling hand, I pinned it to a tree trunk with a small knife.

Then, I turned my back on the Obsidian Pack.

I walked into the darkness of the rogue lands. I didn't run. I walked. Because I knew, with absolute certainty, that no one was coming to look for me.

I was a ghost.

And ghosts don't leave footprints.