At seven o'clock the next morning, the heavy wooden door to my hospital room swung open.

Adrian walked in, his jaw set in a hard, defensive line. Celeste trailed closely behind him. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed with red, and she clutched a bouquet of cheap, plastic-wrapped lilies to her chest. She wore a pristine white cashmere sweater, a stark contrast to the sterile hospital gown clinging to my bruised body.

"I brought these for you," Celeste whispered, her voice trembling with manufactured fragility. She took a hesitant step toward the bed, holding the flowers out like a peace offering.

I stared at the wilted petals. I did not raise my hand to take them.

"I am so sorry," Celeste continued, sniffing loudly. "I was just so scared yesterday. The sirens were deafening. I panicked. I never meant for Lucas to hit the button. You have to believe me."

"Put the weeds on the counter," I ordered, my voice flat and completely devoid of warmth. "And stop crying. You are giving me a headache."

"There is no need to speak to her like that," Adrian scolded. "She did not sleep a wink last night. She has been crying out of pure guilt for hours. You need to be the bigger person here."

"The bigger person," I repeated, tasting the bitter irony on my tongue.

"Yes," Adrian snapped, stepping closer to the bed. "Stop using this cold treatment to punish an innocent woman. She was terrified. She does not have your combat training. You are acting like she planned the entire raid."

"She hid behind a ten-year-old boy," I stated, locking eyes with my mate. "She screamed at him to lock the door while I was dragging a bleeding pack member to safety."

"It was a chaotic situation!" Adrian argued, his voice rising in volume. "We all made split-second choices. I told you yesterday, I made the call to secure the bunker. You survived. Stop holding this grudge."

"I am paralyzed, Adrian," I said, pointing to my motionless legs under the thin white sheet. "My spine is shattered. Clara is dead. Do not call this a grudge."

"The doctors said there is a chance for recovery with physical therapy," Adrian countered quickly, waving his free hand in dismissal. "Do not exaggerate the diagnosis just to make us feel worse. We are family. We forgive each other and move forward."

The last remaining thread of my patience snapped.

"I am not punishing anyone," I said, sliding the thick stack of papers out of the folder. "I am ending this."

"What is this?" he asked, his tone dropping into a dangerous growl.

"Read it," I challenged.

Adrian read the first line aloud, his voice vibrating with sudden rage. "Official Rejection of Mate Bond. Decree of Pack Separation and Divorce."

Celeste gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. "Oh my god."

"You already signed the bottom," Adrian said, staring at my neat signature on the dotted line. He looked up, his eyes flashing with the golden light of his inner wolf. "Where did you even get these? The pack lawyers report directly to me."

"I have my own resources," I replied coldly. "Sign the papers, Adrian. You get to keep your title, your safe room, and your new family. I get my freedom."

Adrian’s hands shook. The paper crumpled under his tightening grip.

"Are you insane?" he roared, slamming his fist onto the tray table. The metal rattled violently. "You want to divorce me? You want to sever a sacred mate bond because you are angry about a tactical lockdown?"

"I want to sever the bond because you watched a Rogue break my spine on a security monitor and did absolutely nothing," I corrected him.

"I will not allow it!" Adrian shouted, grabbing the entire stack of documents. He ripped the thick parchment in half. The tearing sound echoed sharply in the small room. He stacked the pieces and tore them again, shredding the legal forms into useless confetti.

He threw the torn pieces onto the linoleum floor.

"I will never allow you to use this extreme excuse to tear our family apart," Adrian snarled, leaning over the bed, planting both hands on the mattress. "You are my Luna. You belong to this pack. We are not getting a divorce."

A harsh, scraping laugh tore from my throat.

"I do not need your permission to leave," I said.

"What are you doing?" Adrian demanded, stepping back.

I ignored him. I grabbed the metal side rails of the hospital bed with both hands. I locked my elbows and dragged my hips toward the edge of the mattress.

White-hot fire exploded in my lower back. The pain was blinding, a jagged knife twisting directly into my shattered vertebrae. Sweat instantly beaded on my forehead. My vision swam with dark spots, but I refused to stop moving.

"Stop!" Celeste shrieked, pointing at me. "Adrian, she is going to hurt herself!"

I swung my dead legs over the side of the bed. They dangled uselessly toward the floor. I reached out and grabbed the aluminum walker the nurses had parked near the nightstand.

"Lie back down," Adrian ordered, reaching out to grab my shoulder. "The doctor said you cannot support your own weight."

I slapped his hand away with a vicious strike.

"Do not touch me," I hissed through clenched teeth.

I gripped the rubber handles of the walker. I squeezed my eyes shut, channeling every ounce of remaining strength into my arms and shoulders. I pushed down hard. My biceps trembled. The bones in my spine ground together, sending shockwaves of pure agony up my neck.

I hauled my dead weight upward. My boots hit the floor. I forced my knees to lock into place, relying entirely on the metal frame and my upper body to stay upright.

"You..." Adrian stammered, taking a step backward. "How are you standing?"

I did not answer. I shifted my weight onto my right arm, freeing my left hand. I reached for the heavy diamond band on my ring finger. The Luna crest caught the harsh fluorescent light above us.

I twisted the metal over my knuckle and pulled it free.

"Your Luna is dead," I stated.

I turned my attention to the small black canvas duffel bag resting on the visitor's chair. It held the clothes I arrived in and the burner phone from yesterday. It was the only thing I owned that did not bear the pack's scent.

I grabbed the thick canvas strap and slung it over my shoulder.

Gripping the walker again, I dragged my right foot forward. The rubber tips of the frame squeaked against the linoleum. I dragged my left foot next. Every inch of movement sent a fresh wave of torture through my nervous system, but I kept my face entirely blank.

I moved past Celeste, who pressed her back against the wall to avoid touching me.

I reached the doorway. I dragged my boots over the metal threshold and pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind me, locking the Alpha inside the room with his shredded papers and his crying victim.