Mireya

My fingers were still wrapped around my sister’s shawl, stiff with dried blood, when my phone vibrated in my palm.

The name glowing on the screen made my stomach lurch.

Dominic Ivyclaw.

Once, that name meant safety. Devotion. The man who stood with me beneath moonlight and whispered vows no one else was allowed to hear. His scent used to quiet my wolf instantly—pine, steel, promise.

Now it made bile crawl up my throat.

I didn’t answer right away. My thumb hovered above the screen while my wolf growled deep inside my chest, low and warning. She sensed danger. So did I.

A message came through. It was from Dominic.

[Bring Marianne her handbag. She left it behind. She’s attending the royal auction. I’ve forwarded the location. You have an hour.]

No greeting. No softness. No acknowledgment of what I’d lost.

Just an order.

As if I were nothing more than a runner. A faceless omega. Not his wife—hidden or otherwise. Not an advocate of the High Wolf Court. Not a woman whose twin had just died.

My vision blurred as I stared at the screen. A broken laugh tore out of me, sharp and ugly.

He didn’t even know Ysabel was gone.

Or worse—he didn’t care.

I typed with shaking hands.

[I can’t.]

Barely seconds passed before another notification appeared.

A video attachment.

My heart slammed painfully against my ribs.

Not again.

I tapped it before I could stop myself.

The same footage flooded the screen. Ysabel’s screams. Her sobbing pleas. The way her terror echoed off unseen walls. The laughter—mocking, delighted—of the creature who had destroyed her.

I gagged and dropped the phone, stomach heaving.

My mother, huddled on the floor nearby like something already half-buried, reached out blindly. When her eyes found the screen, her breath shattered into a wail.

“She’s already dead!” she cried hoarsely. “What more does he want? Does he plan to grind what’s left of my child into dust before he’s satisfied?”

I crawled to her, gripping her shoulders, trying to anchor us both. “Mama… please. I’ll handle it. I swear by the Moon Goddess, I’ll stop him. I promise—”

The words broke apart in my mouth.

Because I had no idea how.

All I knew was this: we had five days. Five days before we disappeared completely. If Dominic sensed even a hint of that, everything would collapse. I couldn’t let that happen.

Not for my mother.

Not for Ysabel.

So I swallowed my fury until it burned. Picked up the purse.

And I ran.

The location Dominic sent was deliberately vague, as if meant to remind me how small I was. I pushed through the city, past ancient stone buildings carved with pack sigils, past nobles cloaked in gold-threaded finery, past Luna-blooded women draped in silk dyed with moon-blossom hues.

At last, I reached the auction estate—a vast, guarded hall blessed by royal decree, reserved only for aristocrats and those deemed worthy of standing beside them.

That’s when I saw him.

The man from the video.

Ysabel’s attacker.

He lounged casually against a marble column, immaculate in a tailored suit, a lazy smirk stretched across his face like he owned the world.

My steps faltered. Ice spread through my veins.

“So you’re Mireya,” he said smoothly. “Marianne mentioned you’d show up with her things.”

He adjusted his cuffs, navy fabric embroidered with a silver M. “Custom work,” he added smugly. “Commissioned by Alpha Dominic’s preferred tailor. Marianne thought it suited me.”

My grip tightened around the purse. Leather creaked under the pressure as my claws threatened to break through. My wolf snarled, barely contained.

“Your twin was entertaining,” he continued, voice dripping with filth. “You both carry the same desperate scent. Guess rot runs in the blood.”

Something snapped.

I hurled the purse straight at his face.

“How dare you!” I screamed, charging him. “You don’t get to speak her name! You don’t get to exist after what you did!”

I struck wildly—fists, claws, grief driving every blow. There was no technique, only pain and rage. I wanted him to hurt. I needed him to feel something.

Shouts erupted. The heavy auction doors swung open.

A familiar voice sliced through the chaos.

“Mireya.”

Marianne stepped forward, Dominic at her side. “Who exactly authorized you to attack my client?”

The courtyard fell silent.

Dominic’s arm slid around her waist, possessive, deliberate. She leaned into him naturally—like she belonged there. Like that space had never been mine.

“You owe him an apology,” she said coolly.

My whole body shook. “He murdered my sister. And you expect me to—”

“There has been no verdict,” she cut in smoothly. “What you’re saying borders on slander.”

Before I could respond, the auction announcer’s voice boomed from inside the hall.

“Our next piece—an anonymous donation. Untitled.”

The screen lit up.

I recognized it instantly.

Ysabel’s painting.

The blues she only used when she was drowning. The curled figure beneath a bleeding moon. The one she hid away. The last thing she ever created.

“No!” I screamed. “That’s hers! You can’t sell it! That’s my sister—give it back!”

Guards closed in as I fought against them, sobbing, half-mad with grief.

Marianne folded her arms, smiling faintly. “It was gifted to me. I donated it. You’re mistaken.”

“She would never give you that!”

Dominic’s voice turned sharp. “Enough, Mireya. One more outburst and you’ll be detained.”

I stopped.

Because if I didn’t, my mother would lose me too.

Marianne stepped closer. “You still haven’t apologized.”

“What…?”

Dominic’s tone was steady, unforgiving. “Get down. Say you’re sorry.”

I stared at him, the world tilting.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I gave you an order.”

I tried to speak—but his men moved first.

They yanked my hair, slammed me to the stone. Pain exploded. Blood blurred my vision.

Dominic crouched beside me, offering a handkerchief like a mockery. “Clean yourself,” he murmured. “You used to be impressive. Now you’re just an embarrassment.”

I slapped the cloth away. Forced myself upright.

He didn’t look back. His arm settled around Marianne’s shoulders.

“Dominic,” she purred, “you’re taking me home tonight, right?”

He kissed her slowly. “Always.”

That was the final fracture.

I walked home alone. No escort. No protection. Bloodied feet. Hollow chest. Autumn wind slicing through me.

The Ivyclaw estate rose ahead—once my sanctuary. Now a tomb.

At the door, I stopped.

Sounds drifted out.

Moans. Familiar. Intimate.

I stood there for nearly an hour.

Then I entered.

Clothes everywhere. Condoms on the bookshelf I built myself. The stench of sex clung to the air.

I didn’t cry.

I climbed the stairs.

And she stopped me.

Marianne. Wrapped in my towel. The blue one.

She smiled sweetly.

“Just so you’re clear, Mireya,” she said softly, venom under silk,

“I’m not the other woman.”

Mireya

The air was thick with something sharp and metallic—cold iron, treachery, intent—long before Marianne spoke a single word.

I should have trusted that instinctive chill the moment I found her inside Dominic’s private den. His inner sanctum. The one room in the estate guarded more fiercely than any vault. The space I had never once been permitted to step into, not even after becoming his wife. And there she was, standing comfortably before the safe, fingers gliding over the locking mechanism with practiced ease.

Like it belonged to her.

Like she had always belonged there.

The lock disengaged with a soft click. The safe door groaned open.

I stood frozen as she reached inside and removed a slim folder, neat and deliberate. She turned toward me slowly, triumph flashing in her eyes, and struck the folder against my chest without hesitation.

The impact stole my breath.

“Divorce papers,” she said lightly, as though delivering trivial news. “Filed, approved, finalized. You and Dominic are no longer married, Mireya. Honestly, you haven’t been for quite some time.”

My hands trembled as I opened it. Page after page burned my vision. Every clause was airtight. My name. My signature. Legal, undeniable.

I didn’t remember signing this.

But I had.

Buried in trust. Hidden beneath documents I never thought to question.

“He deceived me,” I murmured, the words barely audible above the pounding in my ears.

Marianne’s smile widened, sharp and predatory. “We’re attorneys. You know better than anyone that intent doesn’t matter. Ink does. If you were careless enough to sign blindly, that’s hardly his fault.”

I couldn’t move. My heart hammered violently as memories clashed with reality. Three years. Three years believing in a marriage that apparently ended long before today.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You keep pretending there’s still something binding you. But tell me—did he ever claim you properly? He never marked you. Never completed the bond. With me, though?” Her lips curved cruelly. “He did.”

My wolf stirred, wounded but alive, snarling deep within my chest.

“I’m just cleaning up what he left unfinished,” Marianne continued, cradling the folder as if it were precious. “You can consider this an act of mercy. By tomorrow, I expect you gone.”

I didn’t beg. I didn’t collapse.

I met her gaze evenly. “Then I hope the two of you find everything you deserve.”

My jaw clenched until pain bloomed, but I didn’t let it show. I turned away, each step tearing something raw inside me.

That night passed without sleep.

I packed methodically. Not with tears or hysteria, but with emptiness. The kind that settles after devastation, when grief has already burned everything down.

I folded dresses carefully—luxury fabrics chosen by him, jewels clasped around my throat like ownership. I boxed them all. Not to keep. Not to sell.

To erase.

When Dominic and Marianne left the estate the next morning—no doubt celebrating my removal—I contacted a courier. When he arrived, I handed over the boxes and the address.

He hesitated. “Ma’am… this location is an incineration facility.”

“Yes,” I replied evenly. “Make sure nothing survives.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Understood, Attorney.”

As the truck disappeared, so did the last remnants of that life. Silk and gold no longer meant anything. Neither did Dominic.

Then my phone rang.

I nearly ignored it—until I saw my mother’s name.

Her voice broke through the line in fractured sobs. “Mireya… they’re destroying your sister’s shrine. They’re pulling it apart—her resting place—”

The phone slipped from my hand.

I didn’t grab shoes. I didn’t think. I shifted partially, claws breaking through skin, vision blazing gold, and ran.

When I arrived, my mother was on the ground, clutching Ysabel’s urn like a lifeline. Blood smeared her palms where she’d been shoved aside.

I knelt beside her, fury tearing through me. “Who did this?”

She pointed weakly. “She said her dog died. She tried to take the shrine. She shoved me—she tried to throw your sister away!”

I turned.

Marianne stood near the half-open doors, eyes red with feigned tears, mouth curved smugly.

“Oh,” she said sweetly. “You’re here for another performance?”

My voice came out low and dangerous. “You knew this space was already claimed.”

She gestured toward a satin-wrapped box. “I need somewhere to bury my pet. Surely even you wouldn’t deny that.”

“That shrine was for my sister.”

She shrugged. “It’s not like she’s really in there, is she? After all, you’ve been hiding her ever since that video.”

The words cut deep—but I didn’t react.

Instead, I turned to the cemetery manager who had rushed over. “This shrine was purchased and registered under my sister’s name. We have documentation. My mother carved the plate herself.”

He nodded. “I remember. We don’t reassign occupied shrines. I’ll assist Miss Marianne elsewhere.”

Marianne screamed.

“She’s lying! She’s manipulating everyone! Her sister isn’t dead—and now she’s stealing from me!”

I ignored her. Carefully placed Ysabel’s urn back where it belonged.

“Heartless?” I said quietly. “That accusation suits you better.”

She collapsed theatrically behind me—until a familiar presence slammed into the space.

Dominic.

His aura crushed the air, alpha dominance radiating outward. Wolves backed away instinctively.

“Remove that,” he ordered coldly.

He lifted Marianne into his arms, cradling her protectively.

I stepped forward, blocking the shrine. “Do you even know whose remains those are?”

His gaze was empty. “And if I do? You brought this chaos on yourself.”

He gestured.

The urn was seized. It fell. Shattered.

Ashes scattered across the ground.

A boot crushed them.

My mother screamed and collapsed, clawing at dirt, sobbing uncontrollably.

I couldn’t move. My claws pierced my palms, blood dripping freely.

“That’s my sister,” I whispered. “That’s all that’s left of her.”

Dominic scoffed. “Keep lying. I’ll make your lie permanent.”

Then he left. Carrying her.

Silence followed.

I sank beside my mother, hands shaking as I gathered what little remained.

Ash. Bone. Soil.

The Moon Goddess gave no answer.

But I made a vow.

I would remember.

And I would make them pay.

Mireya

The air inside our modest house felt heavy enough to choke on—not from heat, but from sorrow that had nowhere left to go.

Mama sat near the window, folded into herself as though trying to disappear. Her gaze was distant, unfixed, while her shaking fingers traced the fractures in the glass pane again and again, like she was waiting for the Moon Goddess to answer through those cracks. Strands of silver threaded through her dark hair, framing her ashen face like remnants of a fire long extinguished. Ever since the cemetery—ever since they violated my sister’s resting place—something inside her had retreated completely. Her wolf no longer surfaced. It hid, wounded beyond reach.

I lowered myself beside her and carefully wrapped my hand around hers. Her skin felt cold.

“We’ll be gone soon,” I murmured, brushing my lips against her knuckles. “Two days, Mama. Just two more nights. After that, we disappear. Dominic, this pack—none of it will touch us again. I swear.”

Her eyes blinked slowly, unfocused, as though she were trying to remember who I was. Then a single tear slipped free. She didn’t speak—she almost never did now—but her fingers tightened faintly around mine, like she was anchoring herself to the last thing she trusted.

Everything was ready. Our bags were already packed and hidden beneath the loose boards in my old bedroom floor. I hadn’t told a soul—not even Sera, who sold herbs at the corner stall and sometimes looked the other way for me. The Ivyclaw Pack was no longer safe. Not with Dominic on the verge of taking full power. Not after he stripped me of everything.

I rested my head against Mama’s knee and closed my eyes. For a brief moment, there was a fragile calm between us, the kind that exists only in the still center of a storm.

Then the door shook violently.

A thunderous bang rattled the walls. Then another. And another.

My wolf surged instantly, bristling beneath my skin. I rose and stepped in front of my mother without thinking. “Who’s there?” I shouted—though dread already coiled tight in my chest.

The door burst inward.

Three wolves stormed inside, all wearing black with the Ivyclaw crest emblazoned over their hearts. Their eyes glimmered faintly, wolves close to the surface. They were massive, built like war machines, their scent thick with blood and iron.

Kael stepped forward first, a cruel grin stretching his face. “Alpha Dominic sends word.”

He tossed a crimson envelope onto the table. The gold seal was already broken.

“You’re expected at Miss Marianne’s birthday celebration,” he said. “Tonight.”

“I won’t be there,” I replied flatly.

Kael’s grin widened. “That’s a shame.”

Before I could react, he seized my mother’s arm and hauled her upright.

“Don’t touch her!” I screamed, half-shifting before forcing myself to stop. Mama whimpered, frail in his grip.

“Please—stop!” I choked. “I’ll go. I’ll go wherever you want. Just let her go!”

They shoved her aside like refuse. She collapsed into the chair, gasping softly.

My fists clenched until pain shot through my palms. Pride meant nothing now. Dignity was useless. The only thing that mattered was keeping her alive.

---

The banquet hall glittered obscenely—marble floors, crystal chandeliers, glass walls reflecting excess and power. The scent of wealth and dominance clung to the air. Marianne had turned the place into a shrine to herself. Alpha laughter echoed. Glasses clinked. Lunas whispered behind jeweled hands.

And then there was me.

While they shimmered, I stood in plain black. Barefaced. Unadorned. Defiance stitched over humiliation.

Marianne ruled the stage, draped in deep blue velvet, flawless and radiant. Dominic stood at her side, his arm draped casually around her waist. His eyes swept the room.

Then they found me.

Something flickered across his face—brief, sharp. A ghost of what once was. The look he used to give me in private, before everything burned.

Marianne followed his gaze and smiled viciously. “Attorney Mireya,” she crooned into the microphone. “I see you could make time after all.”

I didn’t respond. I stood still, unmoving.

“I arranged something special this evening,” she continued, laughing softly. “Just for you.”

As I was guided closer to the stage, she leaned in. “I know you’re sentimental.”

I didn’t understand what she meant. Not until something shifted in the air.

My breath caught.

A pull—strong, undeniable.

Warmth flared in my chest. My wolf reacted violently, snarling and crying out in confusion. My legs weakened.

My mate.

He was here. Somewhere among the crowd. I didn’t know his face or name—but I felt him, unmistakably.

The bond surged—

Then shattered.

The screen descended.

Sound filled the hall. Moans. Familiar. Horrifying.

I knew before I saw it.

Ysabel.

The same footage they’d used to torture her—now displayed for everyone.

“No…” I whispered, staggering forward.

Guards stopped me.

“Turn it off!” I screamed. “Stop it!”

Laughter rippled through the room.

“She doesn’t look unwilling.”

“Maybe she liked it.”

My lungs refused to work. My wolf clawed at my insides.

Marianne approached, smiling. “Isn’t it moving?”

Something broke.

I struck her.

The crack echoed through the hall. Dominic caught her as she stumbled, fury blazing.

“Have you lost your mind?!” he roared.

I faced him, shaking. “Do you enjoy this? Do you need to destroy her even now? Was any of it ever love—or were you always this empty?”

“You only ever saw her,” I whispered bitterly. “I was nothing to you.”

His jaw tightened. “You know the terms.”

The agreement.

“If you speak again,” he said quietly, “the next recording will involve your mother.”

That was it.

“I’ll remember this night,” I said flatly. “Every second.”

And I left.

---

I didn’t get far.

Hands dragged me into the alley. A hood. Blows.

I screamed. Fought. It didn’t matter.

“I’m a lawyer—” I tried to shout.

Slap.

Again. Again.

Pain blurred everything.

“Alpha Dominic. Punishment complete.”

“Good,” came the reply. “Payment sent.”

Darkness swallowed me.

I lay there, broken, my wolf whimpering.

And for the first time, I couldn’t even cry.