Isabela POV:

The world came back in a haze of white ceilings and the steady beep-beep-beep of a monitor.

I blinked, my eyelids feeling heavy as lead. The sharp agony in my stomach was gone, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache and the tightness of bandages.

"You're awake."

I turned my head. Kason was sitting in the armchair next to the bed. He looked terrible. His shirt was rumpled, his eyes bloodshot. He was holding a cup of coffee that had long gone cold.

"Kason," I rasped. My throat felt like sandpaper.

He stood up quickly, pouring a glass of water from a pitcher on the bedside table. He held the straw to my lips. His hand was trembling.

"Drink," he said softly. Not a command. A plea.

I drank. The water was cool and soothing.

"It wasn't a baby," he said, setting the glass down. He didn't look at me. He looked at his hands. "It was your appendix. Dr. Evans fixed it."

"I know," I whispered. "I told you."

"I..." He stopped, his jaw working. Alphas didn't apologize. It wasn't in their nature. "I moved you to a VIP suite. You will stay here until you are healed. No basement."

"Thank you, Alpha," I said, closing my eyes. The title felt like a wall between us.

Three days later, I was discharged. But instead of taking me back to the Pack House, the car turned toward the city center.

"Where are we going?" I asked, looking out the window. I was wearing a soft cashmere sweater Kason had brought me. It smelled of the store, not of him.

"The Annual Pack Charity Auction," Kason said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. "You need fresh air. And... people have been talking. They need to see that the Oneal Pack takes care of its own."

Of course. It was about appearances. The rumors from the hospital must have spread.

We arrived at the grand hotel ballroom. It was filled with the elite of the werewolf world-Alphas, Betas, wealthy business partners. The air was thick with the scents of expensive cologne and power.

Dalia wasn't there. Kason had said she was "indisposed," though I suspected he had ordered her to stay away to avoid a scene.

"Stay close to me," Kason murmured, placing a hand on the small of my back. His touch burned, but not in the way Hadley's did. This was a brand of possession, not a spark of connection.

I nodded, my hand drifting to my neck. I wasn't wearing the Moonstone pendant. Dalia had that. Instead, I wore a simple string of freshwater pearls. They were my mother's, the only jewelry I had managed to hide from the "cleaning" of my room.

We sat at the front table. The auction began. Vintage wines, antique swords, vacations in the Alps. I stared blankly ahead, my mind miles away. In New York. With Hadley.

"And now," the auctioneer announced, "Lot 45. A rare, hand-carved wolf's tooth necklace. Donated by Alpha Kason Oneal."

My head snapped up.

A spotlight hit the glass case on stage. Inside, resting on black velvet, was a necklace made of a real timber wolf's tooth, bound in silver wire.

Kason had given that to me when I was sixteen. He had told me he found it in a souvenir shop. I had cherished it, wearing it under my shirt every day until Dalia came back and he demanded I stop wearing "trash."

"I didn't know you donated this," I said, my voice hollow.

"It was just clutter," Kason said, swirling his wine. "Dalia said it looked primitive."

"It was my favorite," I said quietly. "You told me it was a symbol of strength."

"I lied," he said, though his eyes didn't meet mine. "It was just a trinket."

"Bidding starts at five thousand dollars!" the auctioneer shouted.

"Six thousand!" a Beta from a neighboring pack called out.

"Seven thousand!"

I watched the numbers climb. That necklace represented the lie of my childhood. Kason had given it to me, taken it back, and was now selling it.

"It has no soul," I whispered, more to myself than him. "Just like this pack."

Kason froze. He looked at me, really looked at me. He saw the emptiness in my eyes. The adoration that used to be there was gone, replaced by a terrifying indifference.

Panic flashed across his face.

"Ten thousand!" Kason shouted, raising his paddle.

The room went silent. The auctioneer blinked. "Alpha Oneal? You are... bidding on your own item?"

"Twenty thousand!" Kason barked, his voice laced with Alpha power. "I am buying it back."

"Kason, stop," I said, embarrassed as heads turned. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters!" he hissed, turning to me. His eyes were wild. "It's yours. I gave it to you. Nobody else touches what is yours."

"Sold! To Alpha Oneal for twenty thousand dollars!"

He slumped back in his chair, breathing hard. He looked at me, expecting gratitude. Expecting the old Isabela to cry and thank him.

I just looked at the stage.

"You wasted your money, Kason," I said softly. "I don't wear collars anymore."

Isabela POV:

The auction had been a disaster. Kason had spent the rest of the night brooding, drinking too much scotch, while I sat in silence, counting the minutes.

The next morning, the Pack House was quiet. Kason had left early for a meeting with the Elders to explain the hospital incident. Dalia was out shopping, spending Kason's guilt money.

It was time.

My flight to New York was at 4:00 PM. It was currently noon.

I had already packed my small bag. It was hidden in the bushes near the back gate. But there was one thing I needed to do. A closure I needed for myself.

I walked up the grand staircase to the Alpha's office. The door was ajar.

I pushed it open. The room used to smell of old books and pine-Kason's scent. Now, it reeked of Dalia's synthetic rose perfume. It was everywhere, cloying and suffocating.

I walked to the desk. I wasn't looking to steal anything. I just wanted to leave a note. A resignation letter from the pack.

I reached for a pen, but my elbow knocked over a stack of leather-bound journals. They tumbled to the floor with a heavy thud.

I knelt to pick them up. One had fallen open. It was Kason's personal log, the one every Alpha kept to record pack business and private thoughts.

My eyes caught my own name. The ink was fresh, dated just two weeks ago.

April 14th.

The bond pulls at me. Every time I look at Isabela, my wolf howls. It wants to claim her. It wants to mark her.

My heart hammered. He felt it? He knew?

I read on.

But I cannot. The Oneal Pack needs a Luna with connections, with status. Dalia brings the Keith family fortune. Isabela brings nothing but a muddy history and a weak constitution.

My hands began to shake.

I have convinced myself Dalia is the one. I have to. The pull I feel for Isabela... I will suppress it. She smells like the forest, like home. But Dalia is the future.

Isabela is just a substitute. A placeholder for my wolf's instincts until I can fully bond with Dalia. I will keep her close, keep her in the basement if I have to, just to settle my wolf. But she will never be Luna.

Substitute.

The word burned itself into my retinas.

I wasn't just rejected. I was a tool. A biological pacifier to keep his wolf calm while he played politics with Dalia. He knew we were Mates. He knew it, and he chose money. He chose status.

"Brotherly love," I scoffed, a bitter laugh bubbling up in my throat. It sounded like a sob.

A tear slipped from my eye, landing on the page. It smeared the ink of the word Substitute, turning it into a dark, ugly blotch.

"Isabela?"

I jumped, slamming the book shut. But it wasn't Kason. It was just the wind blowing the balcony door open.

I stood up, placing the journal back on the desk. I didn't leave a note. This book said everything that needed to be said.

I heard the front door slam downstairs. Kason was back.

I scrambled into the small closet behind the bookshelf, pulling the door almost shut. Through the crack, I watched Kason stride into the room. He looked exhausted. He loosened his tie and threw himself into his chair.

His phone rang. He put it on speaker.

"Kason!" Dalia's voice whined through the room. "The people on the forum are being mean again! They're saying you bought that necklace because you still love that Omega trash!"

Kason rubbed his temples. "Dalia, not now. I have a headache."

"You need to issue a statement!" she shrieked. "Tell them she's nothing! Tell them she's just a servant!"

Kason looked at the closed journal on his desk. He reached out, his fingers brushing the leather cover. For a second, I thought he would defend me.

"Fine," he said, his voice dead. "I'll tell the press she's mentally unstable. That she's obsessed with me. That will stop the rumors."

"Good," Dalia purred. "I love you, baby."

"Yeah," Kason said. He hung up.

He didn't say "I love you" back.

I waited until his breathing evened out, until he turned his chair to look out the window. Then, silent as a ghost, I slipped out of the closet and out of the room.

He never turned around. He never sensed me.

Because in my heart, I had already left.

Isabela POV:

The taxi ride to the airport was a blur of gray highway and rain.

I sat in the back seat, clutching my bag. I had no phone-I had left my pack-issued phone on my bed in the VIP suite. I had only the burner phone my father had sent me, and the plane ticket.

Oneal Territory, the sign on the highway flashed past. You are now leaving.

A physical weight lifted off my shoulders. It was as if gravity had been dialed down. The constant, low-level hum of anxiety that came from living under an Alpha who didn't want you finally ceased.

I arrived at the terminal. It was crowded with humans. For once, their ignorance was a blessing. To them, I wasn't a rejected Omega or a scandalous headline. I was just a girl in a green coat.

I checked in and went through security. I sat at the gate, staring at the screen.

Flight 802 to New York.

On the TV screen mounted on the wall, a news ticker for the Werewolf Network scrolled by.

BREAKING: Alpha Kason Oneal issues statement regarding Pack internal affairs.

I watched, numb, as Kason's face appeared. He stood at a podium, looking solemn.

"Isabela Walker has been struggling with mental health issues for years," Kason told the cameras. "Her obsession with the Alpha bloodline has led to unfortunate incidents. We ask for privacy as we help her seek treatment."

Lies. All lies. He was painting me as the villain to save his stock prices.

"Attention passengers," the intercom crackled. "Flight 802 to New York is now boarding."

I stood up. I didn't look back at the TV. I didn't look back at the city skyline.

I walked down the jet bridge. With every step, I visualized the thin, tattered thread that still connected me to the Oneal Pack.

I reject this life, I thought, focusing my will. I reject the name Oneal. I reject the pain.

I stepped onto the plane.

Snap.

It wasn't a loud sound. It was a feeling, like a rubber band breaking deep in my chest. The connection to the pack lands was severed. The geographical distance and my spiritual intent had done the job.

I sat in my seat by the window. As the plane taxied down the runway, the engines roared to life. We lifted off, climbing through the clouds.

I looked down one last time as the Oneal territory became nothing but a patchwork of green and brown squares, insignificant and small.

"Goodbye, Kason," I whispered.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out the SIM card from the burner phone, and snapped it in half.

I was no longer Isabela the Omega. I was Isabela, the future Luna of the Payne Pack. And I was going to my True Mate.