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.

Mireya

The morning I planned to leave with my mother, I never once considered the possibility that someone would be waiting for me.

I stopped short the second her scent reached me.

She didn’t belong.

Gardenias—too heavy, too deliberate—mixed with something sharp and chemical, a perfume meant to smother her real smell. It lingered inside our small den like a warning. My bare feet touched the cool planks as I moved farther in, slow and cautious, claws aching to break free beneath my skin.

And there she was.

A stranger sat on our couch as if she’d always owned it, spine straight, legs crossed, heels pressed into the rug with quiet authority. Her hair was pulled tight into a polished bun, and the moment she noticed me, her lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Who are you supposed to be?” I growled, stepping forward. My wolf prowled uneasily inside me. “And why are you in my house? Leave. Now.”

Her gaze dragged over me with clear disdain. “Mm. That face…” She clicked her tongue, ignoring my demand entirely. “Ivyclaw blood does produce striking features. Shame it also produces such an unrefined attitude.”

The jab landed deeper than I wanted to admit, but I kept my expression still.

“Say what you came to say,” I snapped, lowering my center of gravity. “Because if you don’t walk out that door, I will make you.”

Only then did she fully turn toward me, folding her arms like a judge about to pass sentence. “I’m a messenger. Alpha Voren has acquired you.”

My breath stuttered. “Acquired?”

She smiled wider. “Sold. Handed over willingly—by your pack, your Alpha, and yes, even your dear former husband, Dominic. All signatures accounted for.” Her voice coiled around my chest. “You’re being transferred as Alpha Voren’s secondary companion. A political arrangement.”

My legs nearly gave out. “That’s impossible. That’s illegal.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she replied lightly, producing an aged scroll stamped with multiple seals. “Not under werewolf trade statutes. Particularly not for… compromised bloodlines.”

The name burned my throat.

“Voren,” I breathed. “The same Alpha Marianne defended? The one who assaulted a child?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Details. The rogue had no standing. You, however, are Ivyclaw-born. Healthy. Capable of producing heirs. And most importantly—unclaimed.”

Something inside me snapped. I launched forward.

I never reached her.

Two massive wolves moved faster than thought, slamming into place between us. Alpha Voren’s guards. I bared my fangs, snarling, but they didn’t flinch.

Then the door opened again.

I turned—and felt my heart drop.

Dominic. Marianne at his side. And behind them, filling the doorway like a living nightmare, Alpha Voren himself.

My wolf howled inside my skull.

“There she is,” Marianne purred, stepping closer. “Our little bargaining chip.” She tilted her head toward Dominic. “Did you explain that her sister was the original deal?”

Cold flooded my veins.

“What did you say?”

“Your twin,” she clarified smoothly. “She was meant to be delivered. But she vanished, didn’t she? Ran off with some rogue?” Marianne’s eyes glittered. “So now you’ll take her place. Dead blood has no value.”

I swallowed hard. “She’s gone,” I whispered. “She’s dead.”

Dominic recoiled. Marianne merely smirked.

“You keep insisting that. No remains, no proof. She could be anywhere—warm, hidden, pregnant.”

I screamed and surged forward again, but Dominic grabbed me this time. His hands crushed my wrists.

I searched his face desperately.

There was nothing there.

“This is necessary,” he said without emotion.

“You’re condemning me,” I spat. “Remember that.”

He shoved me straight into Voren’s arms. The stench—decay, blood, suffering—made my stomach twist.

“No!” My mother’s cry split the air.

She rushed forward, but guards restrained her. I met her gaze and gave a tiny shake of my head.

Trust me.

She sobbed—but nodded.

I went limp in Voren’s grasp. My wolf protested, but I murmured, Soon.

They forced me into an armored vehicle. I memorized everything—the guards, the locks, the road. No wolfsbane. No open windows.

Good.

I counted silently.

The road curved. Trees blurred.

I let my wolf rise.

When the turn came, I shifted.

Metal shattered. Pain exploded. I ran.

Branches tore at me as howls erupted behind. But these woods were mine.

I reached the hollow tree, found my bag, sent the message.

Airport. Terminal 2. Now.

The reply came instantly.

I’m here.

I made it.

When I saw my mother, hood up, eyes wet, I took her hand.

“Mom,” I whispered, breaking.

“…we’re finally leaving.”