Emilio POV

The roar of the crowd was deafening, a physical weight pressing against my eardrums, but inside my chest, there was only a cavernous silence.

I stood over the mangled body of the Rogue leader I had just torn apart. My chest heaved, sucking in the copper-tang of the air, my knuckles slick with crimson.

Around me, the Obsidian Pack warriors were in a frenzy, chanting my name.

"Alpha! Alpha! Alpha!"

I wiped the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand. It was a messy victory. These Rogues had been organized, attacking our northern border with a ferocity that bordered on desperation.

"You were amazing, Emilio!"

Hayden threw her arms around my neck. She smelled of expensive perfume and... something metallic. Was it the scent of my own violence on her skin? Or was it her own fear masked as excitement?

She kissed me, right there on the churning mud of the battlefield. Her lips were soft, demanding a claim.

I kissed her back. Not out of passion, but because it was the script I had written for myself. I had chosen her. I had chosen the mother of the boy I treated as my son.

But as I pulled away, seeking air, my gaze didn't linger on her. Instead, it drifted to the Northern Wall.

It held.

It had held perfectly.

The Rogues had tried to breach it, but the hidden reinforcements—the ones masked as natural rock formations to blend into the mountain's spine—had funneled them right into our kill zone.

It was brilliant. It was architectural perfection.

*It was Elana.*

A sharp pang hit my chest, harder than any blow I had taken today. I ignored it, shoving it down into the dark along with everything else. She was gone. A tragic accident.

That's what I told the pack.

That's the lie I told myself to sleep at night.

"Come on," Hayden said, tugging my arm, oblivious to where my attention had wandered. "Leo is waiting. We need to celebrate."

I nodded, forcing the muscles of my face into a smile. "Yes. A victory for the pack."

But as we walked back to the Packhouse, the cheers felt hollow, echoing in a void. The victory felt... bought.

Elana POV

The healing process was agonizing. Not physically—Mara's poultices and my new, strange healing factor had knitted the bruises and cuts with terrifying speed.

It was the emotional scarring that refused to fade.

I sat on the porch of Silas's cabin, staring at the envelope in my hands. It was crumpled, stained with river water, but the embossed lettering was still legible.

*Zurich Academy of Architecture & Design.*

*Scholarship Offer.*

*Sponsored by the Silver Alps Pack.*

I had rejected this three years ago. For Emilio. For a dream that turned out to be built on quicksand.

"You should go," Silas said, his heavy boots stepping onto the porch. He handed me a mug of hot tea, steam curling into the cool mountain air.

"You can't stay here, Elana. Not with that bloodline waking up. You need teachers. You need the kind of protection a Ranger's shotgun and a wooden cabin can't provide."

"The Silver Alps," I murmured, running my thumb over the seal. "They are the oldest pack in Europe. Traditional. Powerful."

"And far away from Emilio," Mara added, hopping up to sit on the railing, her eyes sharp.

Emilio.

The name still caused a phantom ache in my chest, right where the Bond used to be. But the ache was dulling, calcifying into a cold resolve.

He had declared a victory today. I could feel the ripples of the pack's excitement through the lingering shreds of our connection. He was celebrating. He was likely basking in the adoration.

Probably with her.

While I sat here, wearing borrowed clothes that smelled of pine and sawdust, mourning a child he didn't want.

"You're right," I said, standing up. I gripped the railing until the wood creaked under my hand. "I need to go."

"I have a contact," Silas said, crossing his arms. "A pilot who runs supplies to the European territories. He owes me a favor. He can get you out tonight."

I looked at the forest, at the border of the Obsidian Pack shrouded in mist. I had poured my sweat and blood into that land. I had built their homes, their defenses, their future.

And they had thrown me away like garbage.

"I'm not running away," I said, my voice steady, the tremor gone. "I'm advancing to a new position."

I turned to Silas and Mara. "Thank you. For saving my life."

"Just don't waste it," Silas grunted, looking away to hide the softness in his eyes.

I grabbed my drafting bag. It was light, empty of my tools, but heavy with potential.

I walked toward the truck that would take me to the airstrip. I didn't look back.

*Goodbye, Emilio,* I thought, pushing the words down the bond one last time, severing the final thread.

*Enjoy your kingdom. I hope the walls hold.*

Emilio POV:

The dinner was supposed to be romantic—a textbook attempt at moving on.

I had rented out the entire terrace of the pack's finest restaurant for just the two of us. Candles flickered in the evening breeze, casting long, dancing shadows against the white tablecloths, while a violinist played softly in the corner.

Hayden sat across from me, looking stunning in a crimson dress that hugged her curves. She was laughing, twirling a lock of hair around her finger in a practiced, flirtatious motion.

"And then Leo said he wants a pony," she giggled, taking a sip of wine. "Can you believe it? A pony! I told him, 'Daddy is the Alpha, maybe he can get you a dragon!'"

She laughed again. It was a high, tinkling sound, like crystal striking crystal.

I smiled, but my facial muscles felt stiff, as if the expression didn't belong on my face.

"A dragon might be hard to find," I said, my voice dry.

"Oh, you know what I mean," she said, waving a manicured hand dismissively. "So, about the Luna ceremony. I was thinking we should redecorate the main hall. That drab grey stone is so depressing. Maybe gold? And velvet drapes?"

The suggestion grated against my instincts.

"That stone is structural granite," I said automatically. "Covering it traps moisture and weakens the mortar."

Hayden blinked, her smile faltering. "Boring. You sound like... her."

The air between us instantly grew cold.

"Don't," I said, the warning low in my throat.

"Well, it's true," Hayden pouted, swirling the wine in her glass. "She was always so practical. So dull. You need color, Emilio. You need life. That's what I bring."

She stood up and walked around the table, ignoring the chair to sit on my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her chest against mine.

"I make you happy, don't I?" she whispered, nipping at my ear.

I smelled her perfume. Vanilla and rose. It was pleasant, sweet even.

But it wasn't *right*.

My wolf, usually dormant these days, shifted uneasily in my chest, pacing in the darkness. He missed the smell of rain. He missed the smell of ink and parchment.

"Yes," I lied, the word tasting like bile. "You make me happy."

Hayden smiled, satisfied. "Good. Because I ordered the gold drapes anyway."

She kissed me. I kissed her back, trying to lose myself in the sensation, trying to ignite the spark that was supposed to be there.

But all I felt was friction.

I looked over her shoulder at the moon. It looked lonely tonight, hanging suspended in the dark void.

The pale light reminded me of earlier today.

I had walked past the nursery. The one Elana designed. The sunlight had hit the windows in a way that illuminated the entire room without using electricity. It was genius—pure architectural brilliance.

I had reached for my phone to text her, to tell her how clever it was.

Then I remembered. She was dead.

I pushed the thought away, forcing it down. Hayden was here. Leo was here. This was what I wanted. This was the life I had chosen to survive.

So why did the wine taste like ash?