Kimberly POV:

Waking up felt like I’d been hollowed out with a rusty spoon. My qi, my essence, was dangerously low. My White Wolf was comatose.

I checked the chart. They had taken a kidney and a liter of spinal fluid. Essence harvesting.

Three days had passed.

I ripped the IVs out. I didn't care about the blood. I had to leave before they came back for seconds.

I took a cab to the penthouse. The smell of Alex’s victory—strawberries and my own stolen power—was suffocating.

She was on the sofa, glowing. Literally glowing. My essence was keeping her young.

"You survived," she said, disappointed. "Your blood is potent, Kim. I feel like a goddess."

Graves walked in from the balcony, wearing swim trunks. "You should be in the hospital."

"I'm here for my things."

"Graves, baby," Alex cooed, brushing past him. "Let's swim."

She threw herself into the pool. She splashed pathetically. "Help! My cramps!"

It was a performance a toddler would find insulting. But Graves dove in like a golden retriever.

He hauled her out. "You stood there?" he accused me. "You’d let her drown?"

"She's a werewolf, Graves. We don't drown in four feet of water."

"Get out," he spat. "You’re a monster."

Something inside me finally died. The last ember of hope.

I walked to the terrace. Below lay the garden of Moon Orchids I’d planted for our wedding.

I summoned the last dregs of my void magic.

Burn.

White fire erupted from my palm. The garden incinerated instantly, turning to ash.

"Consider it a divorce gift," I said to the glass.

I grabbed the cooler box from under the floorboards—my frozen child—and walked out. I didn't look back.

Kimberly POV:

The airport was my sanctuary.

My phone buzzed. Transfer complete. Malibu is yours. Pack Dissolution filed.

I sat in a quiet corner and opened the cooler. The vial sat in dry ice—my unborn child, suspended in time.

I pulled out the parchment. The Blood Pact.

I sliced my palm with a silver penknife. Blood hit the paper. It hissed.

I, Kimberly of the White Wolf, reject you, Alpha Graves.

The bond in my chest ripped open. It felt like a heart attack, sharp and blinding. Then... silence. The constant background noise of Graves’ emotions vanished.

I packed the parchment and the vial into a bio-hazard box. I labeled it clearly.

"Courier," I told the clerk. "Kramer Tower. Priority."

I dropped my phone on the tile and crushed it under my heel.

"Flight 815 to Bali," the announcer called.

Graves was taking Alex to Paris tomorrow. Let him have Paris. I was going where the sun would burn his touch off my skin.

Graves POV:

The penthouse felt haunted. The smell of ash from the garden wouldn't leave.

We were leaving for Paris in an hour. Alex was packing, humming a tune. Why did her humming grate on my nerves? Why was the silence in my head so loud?

"Alpha," Dustin knocked. He looked pale. "Priority package. Strange energy signature."

He placed a box on my desk. It radiated cold. And blood.

I ripped the tape. An envelope. A parchment.

I, Kimberly... reject you...

The words were written in dried blood. My breath hitched. Rejection wasn't just a breakup; it was spiritual amputation.

I looked at the bio-hazard container. Your Heir. Returned.

The world tilted.

I opened the lid. Dry ice mist curled out. Inside was a medical vial. A suspended fetus.

I could smell it. Cedar and rain. My scent. And milk.

My pup.

"No," I croaked.

The realization hit me like a freight train. She was pregnant. When the Enforcers beat her? Pregnant. When I cut her open? Pregnant.

"Graves?" Alex waltzed in. "Ready for Paris?"

She saw the vial. "Ew. Did she send a dead animal?"

The smell of her perfume shifted. It wasn't strawberries anymore. It was chemical. Fake. It smelled like the poison that killed my family.

"Get out," I whispered.

"Don't be silly, baby—"

"GET OUT!" I roared.

I reached for the Mind-Link. I slammed against a wall of solid ice. She was gone.

I looked at the vial. My legacy. Dead in a box.