The moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting thin silver lines across the wooden floor. I stared blankly at the ceiling, my body heavy with exhaustion. The weight in my chest pressed down harder than usual tonight.

Dave was in the bathroom, the sound of running water muffled by the closed door. I should have been asleep, but how could I? Every breath felt like it scraped against my ribs.

Then, the faint buzz of a phone broke through the quiet.

I turned my head slowly toward the sound. Dave's phone lit up on the nightstand, casting a soft glow in the dark room. I wasn't the type to invade privacy, and Dave knew that. He had always counted on me to trust him without question.

But tonight... something in me cracked.

I shifted carefully, making sure the sheets didn’t rustle, and reached for his phone. The screen still glowed, the preview of a message hanging in the air like a warning.

"My Luna "

The contact name froze me in place.

No.

Not "Luna" in the way a pack honors its Alpha female. This was personal. Intimate.

My thumb hovered over the message. One more breath, and I tapped it open.

Images loaded slowly, but the second I saw them, my breath caught in my throat.

Clara.

Dressed in silk and lace, sprawled across a bed that wasn’t hers. Her lips curled in a playful smirk, eyes half-lidded in that practiced, seductive way.

"Come to me, love. I need you tonight."

I nearly dropped the phone.

My stomach turned, bile creeping up my throat.

The wedding was days away, and here they were, baring their betrayal like it was nothing.

I wanted to scream. To break the phone, to confront him, to tear this entire room apart. But the weight of it all pressed me down.

The bathroom door creaked open.

I quickly set the phone back on the nightstand, rolling over to face the wall, feigning sleep.

Dave stepped out, toweling off his hair, the scent of mint and pine soap lingering behind him. He paused, his eyes scanning me for any sign that I was awake.

Satisfied, he reached for his phone.

I listened to the faint taps of his fingers as he typed.

"Can't tonight, babe. She's still up. Tomorrow?"

Bile burned the back of my throat.

Her reply was instant.

"Don't be like that, Dave. I miss you. Remember how good we were last night?"

I clenched the sheets in my fists, forcing my breathing to remain steady.

His chuckle was low and soft.

"Tomorrow, I promise. She’s dead asleep by then."

Dead.

That word sent a shiver down my spine.

His footsteps moved closer to the bed. For a moment, I thought he'd lean in, maybe kiss my cheek like he used to. But he didn’t.

Instead, he grabbed his keys from the dresser.

He paused, then sent a message—this time to me.

"Emergency at the packhouse. Gotta check on it. Get some rest, beautiful."

Beautiful.

How many times had he called Clara that tonight?

The door clicked shut behind him.

And I was alone.

Utterly, devastatingly alone.

I sat up slowly, the cold air biting at my skin. My hands trembled as they ran through my hair.

This wasn’t just a one-time mistake. This had been happening—repeatedly, deliberately.

The bond between mates was sacred. Breaking it wasn’t just betrayal; it was treason of the soul.

I rose from the bed and crossed the room, every step feeling heavier than the last.

The moon stared down at me through the window, full and brilliant.

For once, it offered me no comfort.

I reached for my coat draped over the chair. My fingers grazed the small silver dagger tucked into the pocket. It wasn’t meant for killing—it was ceremonial, a symbol of severance.

And tonight, I intended to use it.

Not on him.

On the bond.

But not yet.

Not here.

I needed to be far from this place when I cut the thread that bound me to Dave. Somewhere no one could stop me.

Somewhere I could be free.

I grabbed my bag, already packed for the day I knew would come. My escape wasn’t going to be tomorrow or next week. It was now.

The Crescent Howl Pack wouldn’t miss me. Not the Alpha. Not the Luna. And certainly not Dave.

But they’d feel my absence when it was too late to matter.

And Clara…

She could have him.

Because when I returned, I wouldn’t come back as the quiet, obedient girl they cast aside.

No.

I’d come back as something far more dangerous.

And they’d all regret the day they underestimated me.

I watched Dave’s figure disappear beyond the doorway, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if he could feel my eyes burning holes into his back. A bitter taste filled my mouth, something between regret and quiet rage. But I swallowed it down. What good would it do now?

Lying in the cold, empty bed, I stared at the ceiling as silent tears slipped down my cheeks. The pain wasn't sharp anymore—it had dulled into a constant, gnawing ache. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood and whispered into the darkness, "Dave, you can have it all. I’m done fighting for scraps."

Five days. That was all that stood between me and freedom. Five days until the cruise set sail.

I rose before the sun, driven by a restless energy that wouldn't let me sleep. I needed to finalize the last of the preparations. Once the ship arrived, I’d board without a backward glance. Morocco was the first stop—a territory far beyond our pack’s reach, untouched by Crescent Howl influence. It was a place I had always dreamed of visiting, somewhere I could finally breathe without feeling the weight of expectations crushing me.

Packing had been easy. I only took what mattered. The rest? Let them rot in this house filled with lies.

Dave came home earlier than usual. His presence felt suffocating, like a predator lurking just beyond my line of sight. I was folding the last of my clothes when he appeared in the doorway, watching me with that same disarming smile he used to wear so easily.

"Darling, you’re working too hard," he said, his tone soft, falsely warm. He stepped closer, gently taking my hand in his. "Once we’re married, you won’t need to lift a finger. I’ll handle everything. You just need to be happy."

I stared at him, wondering how many times he’d rehearsed that line. Did he whisper the same sweet lies to my sister?

I forced a small, tight-lipped smile and nodded slowly.

Marry him? That was never going to happen.

Looking at him now, all I felt was exhaustion. His smile didn’t reach his eyes anymore, but maybe it never had.

Then his phone rang. His expression shifted subtly, a flicker of irritation before he masked it with a grin.

"It’s from your family," he muttered, answering the call.

The voice on the other end was sharp, commanding. No warmth, no courtesy. "Today is the meeting between our families to finalize the wedding details. You need to be there."

A statement, not a request.

I clenched my jaw. Of course, they wouldn’t ask. They never did.

Dave hung up and gave me a look that was half-apology, half-dismissal. "We need to go."

I didn’t argue. Not because I agreed, but because I was tired of pretending that my opinion mattered to anyone in that family.

The restaurant they chose was nestled in the park, styled exactly how Clara liked it. Floral arrangements in soft pink hues, delicate lace tablecloths—it was her taste woven into every detail. It was supposed to be my engagement gathering, but Clara sat comfortably in the seat of honor, draped in a crimson cloak that shimmered against her pale skin.

Dave's parents practically hovered around her, fawning like she was already part of the family. I stood at the edge of it all, like an outsider crashing someone else’s celebration.

"Aria, if only you were as sweet and charming as Clara," Dave's mother sighed dramatically. "I always thought Dave should’ve ended up with someone like her. Such a blessing."

Her words slid off me like rain against stone. I’d heard them before, disguised in softer tones. Now they didn’t bother with disguises.

Clara leaned in, flashing a saccharine smile. "Oh, don’t say that. I’m sure Aria’s doing her best." She let out a soft, tinkling laugh. "But don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. That’s what sisters are for, right?"

Her voice dripped with honey, but the venom underneath was unmistakable.

Dave chuckled along, eyes lingering too long on her face. Not once did he glance at me.

I stared at them—at all of them—and felt nothing. Not anger, not sadness. Just a hollow, widening emptiness.

Once, Dave would have noticed my discomfort. Once, he would’ve found an excuse for us to leave early. Now he barely acknowledged I was there.

The air was stifling. I barely touched my drink, my appetite long gone.

Then, as if the universe mirrored my mood, rain began to pour outside.

Clara stood gracefully, her gown flowing like liquid fire, and Dave was immediately at her side. Without hesitation, he draped his jacket over her shoulders, shielding her from the cold.

He didn’t even glance at me.

I watched them walk into the rain together, his arm around her waist, their heads close in quiet conversation.

It was a gutting realization.

They weren’t hiding anymore.

They didn’t need to.

The rest of the family filed out, laughing under umbrellas. I stood there alone, the soft hum of the restaurant fading around me.

But this time, I didn’t cry.

No.

I was past tears.

Let them have their moment. Let them bask in their stolen happiness.

Because soon, I would be gone.

And when the moon rose again, the girl they thought they could break would be nothing but a shadow on the wind.

Let the storm come.

I would be ready.

The rain poured harder, drumming against the pavement in a relentless rhythm. Dave shielded Clara beneath the umbrella, cradling her in his arms as if she were something fragile, precious. She curled into him like a cat seeking warmth, her delicate hands clutching his shirt. Dave didn’t seem to mind the rain soaking through his clothes, not as long as Clara remained dry and comfortable.

He didn’t even glance back.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, watching them move toward the car. A cold numbness spread through me.

It was a scene I had witnessed before, long ago, during the early days when my heart beat only for him. I had once thought his arms were a safe place, his embrace something sacred. But even back then, it had been Clara he sheltered like this.

The rain plastered my hair to my face, chilling me to the bone. My hands trembled—not from the cold, but from the realization that I had been blind for far too long.

No. I wouldn’t stand there like a fool any longer.

Clenching my fists, I forced my legs to move, cutting through the rain and sliding into the back seat of Dave’s car. The leather was cold against my skin, but I didn’t shiver. I simply stared out the window, the glass blurring with rivulets of rain.

Dave finally returned, brushing water from his hair, and paused when he saw me. His expression flickered—surprise, maybe even guilt—but it quickly vanished behind that familiar mask.

“Oh, Aria,” he said, his tone overly sweet, “Clara’s health is delicate. You know how easily she gets sick. I just wanted to make sure she was safe in the car. You’re not upset, are you?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to gauge my reaction.

Then, realizing how cold and wet I was, he quickly added, “Darling, why didn’t you wait for me to help you in? I should’ve been more considerate.”

His apology was smooth, practiced.

I met his eyes and forced a thin smile. “It’s fine.”

Those two words seemed to satisfy him. He let out a soft chuckle, shoulders relaxing. Of course, Dave believed me. I had never been the type to hold grudges, and he took comfort in that.

But deep inside, whatever remained of my feelings for him had long since turned to ash.

The drive back was suffocating. The car was filled with the sound of rain and silence. Neither of us spoke. He kept his eyes on the road, and I stared out the window, pretending the storm outside was louder than the storm inside me.

When we finally reached the Norman estate, I moved like a ghost through the halls.

I didn’t waste time. I gathered my belongings, folding clothes into a suitcase with mechanical precision. The room felt colder than usual, stripped of any warmth. On my dresser sat an old, worn diary—the only thing I left behind.

Its pages were filled with memories of a girl who once believed in family, in love. Let them keep it. Let it be my last gift to the people who had raised me.

As I dragged my suitcase toward the front door, Freya’s voice echoed behind me, sharp and cold.

“Oh? So, you’re really leaving? Don’t expect us to come running if something happens to you. You’re on your own now.”

I paused in the doorway, fingers tightening around the suitcase handle. Slowly, I turned back to look at her.

Twenty years. Twenty years under this roof, and this was how it ended.

I held her gaze, searching for any trace of warmth, of regret. There was none.

“Not even a sliver of affection left, is there?” My voice was steady, almost too calm. I gave her a faint, humorless smile. “Goodbye, Mother.”

Freya didn’t flinch. She just turned away, as if I were a shadow on the wall.

And that was it. My farewell to the Norman Family.

By the time I returned to the house I shared with Dave, the sky had darkened. The storm still lingered, distant thunder rumbling like a warning.

Dave greeted me with a wide grin, holding up an elegant white garment. “Aria! Look at this. I picked it out myself. The wedding is a once-in-a-lifetime event, after all. You deserve the best.”

Laid out before me were rows of pristine wedding dresses, each more elaborate than the last.

I stared at them, my mind distant.

It was all a performance to him now. An elaborate show.

Dave’s eyes sparkled as he lifted one of the gowns toward me. “Here, try this one. I think it’s perfect for you!”

I hesitated, fingers brushing over the fabric. No matter how beautiful these dresses were, none could compare to the one I had designed myself, the one I had dreamed of wearing.

But dreams were for fools.

Wordlessly, I took the dress and disappeared into the fitting room.

The gown felt heavy against my skin, as if it carried the weight of every lie Dave had ever told me.

When I stepped out, Dave wasn’t even paying attention. He was huddled in the corner, speaking in hushed tones on the phone.

“I have to come now?” His voice was soft, careful. “But I’m with Aria, helping her choose a dress... Fine. I’ll be there soon.”

He thought I couldn’t hear him.

But I heard every word.

Every damn word.

And just like that, the fragile threads holding me together snapped.

Let him go.

Let them both think they’ve won.

Because soon, none of this would matter.

The full moon was coming.

And with it, so was my reckoning.