Haven POV:

I was in the garden, sitting on the stone bench where I used to tell Connor about my day. The roses were blooming, blood-red against the green leaves.

I was waiting for the courier to pick up the final documents for the share transfer.

"WHERE IS SHE?"

The roar shook the windows of the house.

A moment later, the patio doors flew open. Connor stormed out. His eyes were bleeding into the gold of his wolf. He was on the verge of a forced shift.

He marched across the grass and grabbed me by the upper arm. His grip was bruising. He yanked me to my feet.

"Where is she, Haven?" he snarled, saliva flying from his lips.

I winced. My body was still recovering from the surgery. I was weak, defenseless. "Let go of me."

"Gemma is gone!" Connor shouted. He shoved his phone in my face.

There was a text message on the screen. Help me. She found me. She says I have to pay. Attached was a grainy photo of Gemma tied up in what looked like a damp basement.

"I have been sitting here for two hours," I said, my voice flat.

"Liar!" Connor shook me. "I know you have your private guards. I know you hired that investigator. What did you do? Did you have them take her? Did you order them to kill her?"

"I don't care enough about her to kill her," I said.

"Don't lie to me!" The Alpha power rolled off him in waves, crashing against my shields. "You are jealous. You are vindictive. You couldn't stand that I chose her."

"You didn't just choose her, Connor," I looked him in the eye. "You killed for her."

He paused, confused. "What are you talking about? Nobody died."

"Are you sure about that?"

He blinked, the gold fading slightly from his eyes. He sniffed the air. Finally, finally, his nose was working.

"You smell... like iron," he muttered. "And sickness."

"That's the smell of your legacy rotting," I said.

He growled, dismissing it. "Stop speaking in riddles! Tell me where Gemma is, or I swear to the Moon Goddess, I will throw you in the cells. I will let the Enforcers interrogate you like a common Rogue."

He threatened me with the dungeon. The man who swore to protect me.

"Check the security logs," I spat. "Or did she conveniently disable the cameras again?"

"The system was hacked," Connor growled. "Only someone with Luna-level clearance could override the perimeter. That's you, Haven."

Of course. She stole my passwords. She played him like a fiddle.

Connor shoved me back. I stumbled and fell onto the grass. The impact jarred my healing womb, sending a spike of white-hot agony through my gut. I curled in on myself, gasping.

He stood over me, looking down with disgust.

"You are not the woman I mated," he said coldly. "That woman had a heart. You are just a husk."

He turned and ran toward the perimeter, shouting orders into his phone for the trackers to find Gemma.

I lay in the grass, staring at the dirt.

A husk.

Yes. He was right. He had eaten the fruit and thrown away the shell.

But husks are dry.

And dry things burn very, very well.

Haven POV:

The house was empty.

Connor had taken every warrior, every guard, every tracker to hunt for his "kidnapped" mistress. He left the Pack House undefended. He left me unguarded.

It was almost insulting how easy it was.

I stood in the center of the living room. This was the heart of the Apex Pack. The walls were covered in history—paintings of past Alphas, tapestries woven by Lunas centuries ago.

I held a lighter in my hand.

My phone buzzed. It was Sterling. The transfer is complete. The funds are in your offshore account. You are no longer a shareholder of Apex Dynamics. You are a free agent.

"Good," I whispered.

I walked over to the fireplace. On the mantle sat a crystal vase, a gift from the Alpha of the Northern territories on our wedding day. It was filled with dried lavender.

I smashed it on the floor. The sound of breaking glass was music.

I went to the kitchen and retrieved the bottles of high-proof alcohol I had set aside. Vodka. Whiskey. Brandy.

I poured them over the rug. I splashed them onto the velvet curtains. The smell of ethanol filled the air, sharp and stinging.

I walked to the small table by the door. I placed a black velvet box there. Inside was the positive pregnancy test and the ultrasound photo of the tiny, bean-sized life that was no more.

No. Not here. The fire would consume it, and he needed to see it.

"Martha," I Mind-Linked the head Omega. I need you. Come to the back garden. Discreetly.

I met her by the old stone greenhouse, a structure safe from the coming inferno. I handed her the box.

"Give this to him," I said, pressing it into her trembling hands. "Not now. When he stands in the ashes. Give it to him then."

Martha looked at the box, then at the house reeking of gasoline. She nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I will, Luna. Run. Run far."

I returned to the foyer.

I stood by the front door. I struck the lighter. The flame danced, small and yellow.

"I release you, Connor Jones," I said to the empty room. "I release the bond. I release the love. I release the pain."

I dropped the lighter onto the alcohol-soaked rug.

The fire didn't start slowly. It whooshed into existence, a hungry beast waking up. Blue and orange flames licked up the curtains, devouring the silk. The heat hit my face instantly.

I threw our wedding album into the center of the inferno. I watched the leather cover curl and blacken. I watched my own smiling face from three years ago melt away.

Smoke began to fill the high ceilings. The fire alarm started to wail, a shrill scream that matched the one inside my soul.

I picked up my suitcase.

I walked out the front door, leaving it wide open to feed the fire with oxygen.

I walked down the long driveway. I didn't look back. Behind me, the roar of the fire grew louder, consuming the lies, the betrayal, and the memories.

I felt a strange sensation in my chest. A flutter. Not a heart palpitation.

Good, Seraphina purred in my mind. Her voice was stronger than it had been in days. Let it burn. From the ashes, we rise.

My skin tingled. The dormant blood in my veins, the blood of the White Wolf, began to hum.

Connor POV:

I found her in an old motel on the edge of the territory. Gemma.

She wasn't tied up. She wasn't hurt. She was sitting on the bed, watching TV.

When I burst in, she jumped up. "Connor! You found me! I managed to escape while they were sleeping!"

It was a lie. Even I, in my panicked state, could smell the lie. There was no scent of other wolves on her. No scent of fear. Just pizza and cheap soap.

But I pushed the doubt down. I had to. If I admitted she was lying, then I had to admit what I had done to Haven. And that... that was a door I couldn't open.

"We need to leave," Gemma said, grabbing my hands. "We need to go to the City Hall. Now. My father's lawyers said if we don't marry immediately, the Council might separate us because of the investigation."

"Investigation?" I asked, dazed.

"Into the factory! Haven is trying to frame me! We need spousal privilege!"

She dragged me to the car. I felt like I was moving underwater. Everything was blurry.

We drove to the human City Hall. Wolves usually married under the Moon, in a Pack ceremony. But Gemma insisted on a civil union first.

"Sign here," the clerk said.

I looked at the paper. Dissolution of Marriage: Connor Jones and Haven McCullough.

"She already signed?" I asked, staring at Haven's elegant signature. It was steady. Unshaken.

"Yes, yes, she wants it," Gemma said, practically bouncing. "Sign it, Connor. Be free."

I put the pen to the paper.

As soon as the ink touched the page, a sharp pain shot through my chest. It felt like a rib snapping.

"Argh!" I dropped the pen, clutching my heart.

"Connor?" Gemma asked.

"It's... nothing," I wheezed. "Just stress."

It wasn't stress. It was the bond. The golden thread that had connected me to Haven for years... it didn't just break. It vanished. It was like stepping off a cliff into the dark.

"Now the marriage license!" Gemma shoved another paper in front of me.

I signed it. I felt nothing. No spark. No warmth. No approval from my wolf. My wolf was pacing in my head, growling low and deep, refusing to acknowledge the woman standing next to me.

"We're married!" Gemma squealed. She kissed me.

Her lips were soft, but they felt wrong. They didn't fit.

"Let's go," she said. "The plane is waiting. My honeymoon surprise. A private island. No phones, no Pack, just us."

"I can't leave the Pack," I said. "Haven... I need to talk to Haven."

"Haven doesn't want to talk to you!" Gemma snapped. Then she softened her voice. "She hates you, Connor. Give her time to cool off. Three days. Just give me three days."

I looked at the signature on the divorce papers. She had signed it so quickly. She really wanted to be rid of me.

"Okay," I whispered. "Three days."

I didn't know I was walking into a cage.