Aurora's POV

I had just closed the novel I was reading when the chamber door creaked open. I kept my expression steady, though surprise flickered through me.

Alaric stepped in.

He reeked faintly of liquor, and when his gaze locked onto me, a crooked smirk curled on his face.

“Well, look at you,” he drawled. “Relaxing as if you didn’t just try to embarrass me tonight.” His tone hovered somewhere between mocking and irritated. “Really bold of you, Kris. Announcing in public that you’re done acting like my little attendant. What was that about? Trying to drop hints about our bond?”

I exhaled slowly as he came to a stop at the edge of the bed.

“I told you already—I don’t care who knows,” I said, moving around him and heading for the exit.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice sharpened, the warning unmistakable.

“To the room I actually sleep in,” I replied calmly. “You’re the one who made the rule that I shouldn’t be here if you are.”

I saw the moment the memory hit him—the cold words he’d thrown at me the night of our wedding.

“Did I give you permission to walk out?”

“What exactly do you want from me, Alaric?” I turned, facing him fully. “To stand here and wait for your insults? No thanks. I’d rather keep what little peace I have.”

His eyes darkened, frustration tightening his jaw.

“You’re acting strange. What are you upset about this time? I can’t understand you.”

I held his stare without blinking.

“I’m not angry, Alpha Alaric. I’m finished. I’m done letting you treat me like something beneath your boots. I am not a servant.”

“You’re my wife, Aurora,” he growled. “Do you need to be reminded what this marriage means?”

Of course. The marriage.

The arrangement he never wanted—forced on him when Mirelle vanished to chase fame. He didn’t choose me. He chose duty, politics, and resentment. And I paid for it with my dignity.

“Believe me, I remember everything,” I said, my tone flat as ice. “And Mirelle’s back now. You can finally have the mate you actually wanted. You don’t have to keep punishing me for her choices.”

Silence stretched between us. Alaric’s lips parted, but he had no words.

“Kris…” he murmured, guilt edging into his voice.

“You know I loved you,” I whispered, the words cutting deeper than I expected. “I said it. And you made me suffer for it. I kept hoping you’d see me, but now… now I realize I was nothing but a fool.”

I opened the door and stepped out.

Tears blurred my vision, but I wiped them away before a single drop fell.

I wouldn’t shed tears for him anymore.

---

Morning came.

Mirelle stood in the main hall like a princess arriving at her castle, a bright suitcase parked beside her.

She looked around with a sparkling smile.

“Sis! Where’s Alpha Alaric?” she chirped.

“I have no idea,” I replied, voice flat.

She tried to hug me, but I moved aside. Her lips puckered into an exaggerated pout.

“Are you upset with me, Sis Kris?” she asked, her voice sugary enough to rot teeth.

My wolf growled at the sound. I used to fall for that innocent act—treated her like my real sister, protected her even. But that version of me wasn’t here anymore.

“No, I’m not upset,” I answered with a smile that didn’t touch my eyes. I looked at her luggage. “Staying awhile?”

She lit up.

“Alpha Alaric told me to move in! He wants me nearby. You don’t mind, right? Right, Sis Kris?”

Her eyes gleamed with triumph beneath all that fake sweetness.

“Do whatever you want.”

I turned to leave, but she grabbed my wrist.

Alaric’s presence approached—his scent, his aura, the shift in the air.

“You don’t seem happy that I’m here,” she whimpered. “Maybe I should just leave…”

Her voice cracked pathetically. My jaw tightened—she wanted him to catch her crying.

And right on cue, she stepped back and let herself fall.

“Aurora!” Alaric’s roar echoed through the hall.

He bolted toward her as she burst into soft sobs, clutching her wrist like I’d twisted it.

“Don’t be mad at her, Alpha,” she sniffled. “It was my fault. I slipped… she didn’t push me.”

Alaric touched her cheek like she was fragile porcelain.

“I didn’t touch her,” I said steadily.

But he wasn’t listening.

He turned toward me, eyes blazing. “I saw everything, Aurora. Don’t you dare lie to me. Mirelle is staying here—she belongs here. And you have no right to mistreat her. I won’t let you repeat your cruelty. I am your Alpha. You are only a Luna… barely one.”

Mirelle’s smile flickered behind him—a cruel, victorious curl of her lips.

I stayed perfectly still, gaze unwavering.

“I know exactly what I am, Alpha Alaric. And if you’re determined to believe her lies, that’s your choice. I’m done defending myself.”

“You—!”

He seized my jaw, fingers digging painfully into my skin.

“If you ever hurt Mirelle again, I swear, Aurora—I’ll make you pay.”

His grip tightened before he shoved my face away. My lips quivered—not from fear, but from the rage boiling inside me. My wolf snarled, clawing at the edges of my mind.

“GUARDS!” Alaric thundered. “Take the Luna to the dungeon. She can rot there for the next day!”

The guards moved toward me.

I straightened my spine.

Lifted my chin.

“You don’t need to force me,” I said quietly. “I can walk on my own.”

I gave Alaric and Mirelle one last look—the Alpha who never wanted me, and the woman he’d always chosen over me.

My eyes were cold.

Empty.

And then I turned and walked away.

Aurora's POV

The guards released me at dawn. My legs trembled as I walked, my muscles stiff and sore from the night I spent curled on the dungeon floor. Every breath felt heavy. All I wanted was a bath, clean clothes, and a moment where no one would raise their voice at me.

But peace never lasted long in this place.

The moment I pushed open my bedroom door, I stopped dead.

Mirelle lounged on my bed—my bed—like it belonged to her.

She crossed her legs delicately and flashed a sugar-sweet smile.

“Oh, sis. How was the dungeon? Did they at least give you a crumb of food?” she cooed, every syllable soaked in venom.

I didn’t bother reacting.

“What are you doing here, Mirelle?”

She rose slowly, strolling around the small room like she was inspecting a peasant’s hut.

“So this is where you sleep.” Her nose wrinkled. “Tucked conveniently near the maids’ corridor. Suits you, I guess.”

I kept my tone steady. “Alaric didn’t choose this room for me.”

She paused.

“I picked it myself,” I added. “He offered me the room beside his, remember? But I didn’t feel like listening to you two tearing up the Alpha’s chamber every night. You enjoy that room—you’ve already made yourself at home in it.”

Her expression soured instantly.

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a taunting whisper.

“Doesn’t it just… burn? Knowing he comes to me now? That he holds me, claims me, touches me in ways he never wanted you?”

I actually laughed—short, sharp, unrestrained. Her eyes widened, thrown off.

“What’s so funny?” she snapped.

“You,” I answered simply. “You honestly think I still care about that man? Mirelle, please. I’m done groveling for someone who never chose me. You want him? He’s yours. Every broken piece.”

Her jaw clenched. There it was—the anger she hid behind her girlish smiles.

“Don’t pretend you never cared,” she spat. “You always wanted him. But he chose me. Everyone believes me. No one believes you.”

“Then celebrate.” I shrugged. “Enjoy the lies. Enjoy the attention. I hope they keep you warm at night.”

Her expression twisted into something ugly.

“You think this ends here?” she hissed. “I haven’t even started with you.”

Before I could react, she snatched a glass from the nightstand and hurled it at me. I ducked, the shards exploding against the wall, glass flying like tiny razors.

“What is wrong with you?!” I shouted, stepping back.

She only grinned—wide, unhinged.

“You should suffer,” she murmured. “It’s what you’re good at.”

Then, with a chilling calmness, she picked up one of the largest shards on the floor and dragged it across her own palm. Blood poured down her wrist.

She screamed.

“Help! She attacked me! Help!”

My mind froze. “Mirelle—what the hell are you doing?!”

The door burst open so hard it slammed into the wall. Alaric stormed in, his whole body stiff with fury. His gaze jumped from the blood on Mirelle’s hand to me standing near the broken glass.

“Alpha,” Mirelle whimpered, tears spilling, “she—I tried to talk to her, and she snapped. She grabbed the glass—she hurt me, I swear—”

“That is NOT what happened!” I protested. “She threw the glass at me—she cut her own—”

I didn’t even finish before pain exploded across my cheek.

Alaric had struck me.

“You’ve crossed the line,” he snarled, shaking with fury. “How dare you raise your hand against your sister?”

I staggered, the room spinning.

“You didn’t even ask,” I whispered. “You just believed her.”

“I gave you warnings,” he barked. “And you ignored each one. Guards! Bring silver restraints. Let her understand what betrayal feels like.”

Tears burned my eyes—not because of the pain—but because of the certainty:

He truly hated me.

The guards dragged me away, chaining my wrists with silver. The metal scorched instantly, biting into my skin. My wolf whimpered, recoiling, too weak to fight back.

Everything blurred into hours of burning, throbbing pain.

Pain so deep I didn’t realize something was wrong until it was too late.

A sudden, violent ache tore through my stomach. I doubled over, screaming—this time not in anger, but in terror. The agony climbed up my spine, crashed through my hips, and I collapsed, unable to breathe.

I begged for help.

No one came.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

---

When I woke, I was lying on a healer’s cot, wrapped in blankets. The scent of herbs hung in the air.

The healer’s face was solemn, grief-stricken.

“The Alpha ordered you released from the dungeon,” she said quietly. “They brought you here when you didn’t wake.”

Her voice trembled.

“I did everything I could, Luna. I truly tried. But your body… your wolf… they were too weak. The pup didn’t survive.”

The world dropped out beneath me.

A pup?

My pup?

I didn’t know. I didn’t feel it. My wolf had been so silent, so drained, I hadn’t sensed a thing.

Something shattered inside me. Something no one would ever repair.

“Does Alaric know?” I asked hoarsely.

“I haven’t told him,” she admitted. “If he finds out I failed, he might—”

She couldn’t finish.

“I’ll tell him,” I said. My voice sounded distant, hollow. “It’s my burden.”

She placed a tiny wooden box in my hands. It was small. Too small.

I didn’t cry.

I couldn’t.

---

Alaric arrived minutes later. His face was tight with guilt, eyes flicking to the bandages on my wrists.

“Kris… I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize I’d hurt you that badly. I didn’t want to—”

“I’m alive,” I cut in, emotionless. “Does that disappoint you?”

Shock flickered across his face.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he insisted. “I just wanted you to stop attacking Mirelle—”

“I never touched her,” I said. “But believe whatever makes you sleep at night.”

I walked past him, the box pressed against my chest. He called after me, but I didn’t look back.

“What’s that? Aurora—Kris!”

I ignored him.

I returned to my room, packed only what I needed, and took one last sweeping look at the place I once prayed would feel like home.

It never did.

I made my way to the riverbank. The water flowed quietly—uncaring, constant.

One by one, I emptied my suitcase. Letters. Little gifts. Things I once treasured.

Things that meant nothing now.

I watched the suitcase slip into the water, sinking slowly until it vanished into the dark.

My phone buzzed. Alaric’s name flashed.

I answered—not out of longing, but closure.

“Aurora! Where are you? You’re not fully healed! Listen—I know you’re angry, but I didn’t mean— I feel guilty—”

A sleek car rolled up beside me. A man stepped out and opened the door.

I lifted the phone to my ear one last time.

“I left you a birthday present, Alaric.”

“What are you talking about? Where are you? A servant said you left with luggage—are you planning to leave? Kris, just because I—”

I hung up.

And tossed the phone into the river.

As it disappeared beneath the water, the man held the car door open for me.

I climbed in without glancing back.

The car pulled away.

And I left everything—everyone—behind.