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.

Anton POV

The morning sun glared down on the charred remains of the bonfire, exposing the square as a graveyard of a ruined party.

My head pounded in rhythm with my pulse. The Rogue attack last night had been brief but chaotic. We had driven them off, but the mood hanging over the pack was grim.

"Where is she?"

I turned. My father, Alpha Jacob, was pacing in the War Room. He looked disheveled, his usual composure fractured.

"Where is who?" I asked, though a sinking feeling settled in my gut. I already knew.

"Alexia," he growled. "I've been trying to link her all morning. The connection is... dead. It's like static."

"Maybe she's sleeping," Elder Marcus suggested, sipping his coffee unbothered. "Omegas sleep late when they can."

"She's not an Omega," I snapped, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "She's my mother."

Technically, she was my step-mother by title, but she was the one who had raised me. My birth mother had died giving birth to me. It was Alexia who put bandaids on my knees. It was Alexia who sang me to sleep when the nightmares came.

And last night, at the gala... I saw what they did to her. I had stayed silent because I was a coward. Because I wanted to be a good future Alpha.

"Go find her, Anton," my father ordered, waving his hand dismissively. "Bring her here. Kassandra is upset about some missing coins. We need to settle this."

I walked out of the Alpha house, my jaw clenched. I didn't go to the guest rooms. I knew she wasn't there.

I walked to the edge of the territory, past the kitchens, to the old gardening shed rotting at the treeline.

"Alexia?" I called out, pushing the warped door open.

The smell hit me first. Black mold. Damp earth. And... smoke.

The room was empty.

It was less a home and more a hovel. A mattress lay directly on the floor. A desk cobbled together from crates. Water stains wept down the walls.

My chest tightened until it hurt to breathe. *This* is where she lived? While we slept on silk sheets and ate off fine china?

"Oh, Mom," I whispered.

I walked to the metal trash can in the center of the room. It was full of ash. I poked it with a stick. Burnt paper. Melted glass.

Then I saw it.

On the desk, hidden under a stack of old, blank music sheets, was a leather-bound book.

I opened it, my fingers trembling.

*October 3rd. Jacob used the Command today. My fingers were bleeding, but he made me play for three hours. He called Kassandra 'my love' while I was sitting right there, invisible.*

*November 12th. Kassandra told me if I looked at Anton again, she’d have me exiled. I had to hide his birthday present in the woods so she wouldn't burn it.*

I dropped the book. My hands were shaking violently now.

"Anton?"

I spun around. My father stood in the doorway. He wrinkled his nose, recoiling from the smell.

"Is she here?" Jacob asked, looking around with undisguised distaste. "Why would she choose to live in a dump like this?"

"Choose?" I laughed. It was a dark, angry sound that scraped my throat. "You think she *chose* this?"

"Where is she, Anton?"

"She's gone, Dad," I said, picking up the diary and clutching it to my chest. "And I don't think she's coming back."

Suddenly, heavy footsteps pounded on the dirt path. The Pack Healer, Doc Evans, came running up, looking pale as a ghost.

"Alpha!" he shouted, breathless. "Alpha, come quick! It's Kassandra!"

My father’s face went white. "Is she hurt? The baby?"

"That's the thing, Alpha," Doc Evans stammered, looking terrified, his eyes darting between us.

"I did a scan to check for stress on the fetus after the attack."

"And?" Jacob barked.

"Alpha... there is no baby. There never was. Her womb is empty. She hasn't been pregnant in years."

The silence that fell over the damp shed was heavier, and far more suffocating, than the Alpha Command.