“I’ve already prepared the separation decree and my withdrawal seal from the Nightreaver Pack,” I said quietly. “I’m leaving Alpha Haldrick for good.”

My closest friend stared at me like she’d just heard blasphemy. “Didn’t the Alpha Nightreaver swear he’d finally announce you as his Luna? After all these years, why walk away now?”

I curved my lips into a smile that tasted bitter.

Five years.

I had endured five full winters as Haldrick Nightreaver’s hidden mate—his Luna in name only, never acknowledged beneath the moon banners. And yet, my feelings for him went back far longer. Fifteen years, ever since we were cubs running through the forest borders together.

He was born with frost in his blood—cold, distant, untouchable.

I told myself that if I stayed warm enough, patient enough, if I whispered “I choose you” again and again, one day even an ice-bound alpha would thaw.

Everyone believed I would never leave him.

But two weeks ago, when my mother lay dying, I begged him to drive me to the healer’s hall beyond the western ridge. The skies split open with rain and the moon was swallowed by storm clouds. Yet Haldrick stopped the car at the edge of the territory and told me to get out.

His reason?

His first mate had summoned him.

By the time I reached the healer’s hall on foot, soaked to the bone and shaking, my mother only had enough strength left to squeeze my hand once before her breath faded away.

Something inside me shattered beyond repair.

I had always told myself Haldrick was simply distant by nature—that alphas carried burdens heavier than others.

But that day, I learned the truth.

Later, in the healer’s corridor, his first love smiled gently at me and said, “Can’t you tell? He’s cold to everyone except me.”

Then she showed me a crystal image.

In it, the alpha who hated disorder and avoided touch was leaning close, wiping milk from the corner of her lips with careful fingers. His gaze was soft—tender in a way I had never once received.

I stopped lying to myself.

I was not the one who could warm his frost.

She was his fire.

So I let go.

A week ago, I left the separation decree on his desk beneath the Nightreaver sigil. He didn’t even read it before pressing his seal.

Seven days…

Seven days and the bond would dissolve.

Outside the café carved into the stone of the central territory, Haldrick’s black rune-marked car waited. He had come to collect me, as always—never asking if I wished to ride with him.

He glanced over, faintly frowning at my silence.

“That document you asked me to approve the other day,” he said, voice cool. “Which trade clan was it with?”

I opened my mouth, but…

“Never mind,” he added flatly. “It doesn’t matter. I trust your judgment.”

That sentence struck harder than claws.

For five years, I clung to those words like a blessing.

I trust you.

I thought it meant reliance. Respect. That I mattered.

Now I finally understood.

It wasn’t trust.

It was indifference.

He didn’t care what I handled, only that I never embarrassed him beneath the moon council’s eyes.

I wanted to scream, That wasn’t a trade pact—it was our separation decree!

But his communicator lit up.

One glance at the name and the ice in his eyes melted.

“You’re not feeling well?” His voice softened instantly. “Don’t move. I’ll come now.”

My strength drained away.

When the car slowed at a random street corner, I opened the door and stepped out without a word. The night wind cut my skin, but it was nothing compared to my heart.

We grew up together—if that could be called love.

I was always the bright one, chasing after him through forest paths, calling his name like sunlight breaking frost. I believed—foolishly—that warmth could change destiny.

But real life isn’t a moon-blessed legend.

In high school, I watched him fall for another girl. Clumsy. Gentle. Helpless in the most endearing way. She burned his cold world without trying.

And me?

I tried for years.

Loved for years.

Endured for years.

Until I finally understood…

This bond meant nothing anymore.

Seven days.

Just seven more days and I would be free.

The next morning, I arrived at the Nightreaver Pack’s central tower as I always had.

The Alpha Court was already awake—clerks moving between rune-lit corridors, messengers carrying sealed scrolls between departments, the low hum of territory wards vibrating through the stone walls.

I set my leather satchel on my desk and activated the crystal screen, preparing to finalize my handover reports.

For the first time in years, I did not step into the communal hearth room to prepare Haldrick’s morning brew.

Normally, I would grind moon-roasted beans myself, adjusting the bitterness precisely to his preference, then deliver it to his office before he even asked.

Today, I poured a cup of dark wolfroot coffee for myself and drank it alone, its sharp taste grounding me as I reviewed contracts in silence.

When Haldrick emerged from his office, his gaze swept across the room out of habit—and stopped.

There was only one cup on my desk.

Mine.

He paused.

Just briefly.

Then he said nothing and continued forward.

The atmosphere in the office felt unnaturally quiet.

I used to fill the space with idle chatter, light laughter meant to soften the rigid formality of the Alpha Court. Today, I didn’t even lift my head.

Haldrick slowed near my desk.

“Is something obstructing your work?” he asked, his tone flat, carefully controlled.

“No,” I replied, eyes still on the screen.

He lingered.

There was something sharp in his stare, like he was searching for a crack in my composure. For a fleeting second, I thought he might finally mention the severance scroll he had signed without reading.

Then…

A sharp cry rang out from the stairwell.

Haldrick’s head snapped toward the sound, his wolf surging violently beneath his skin.

I followed his line of sight—and my stomach dropped.

It was Danella Evergrove, stood halfway up the stone steps, arms wrapped around an overflowing crate of archived documents. One heel had slipped into the edge of the stair, throwing her balance dangerously off.

Below her stretched a hard stone floor and a steep drop of more than ten steps.

Her arms shook. The crate tilted.

She could fall at any moment.

“Danella!” Haldrick shouted.

The sound tore from him—raw, panicked, stripped of all restraint.

Before I could react, he shoved my chair aside and lunged forward.

“Haldrick!” I called instinctively. “Don’t run like that—”

I reached for him, fear spiking sharp and sudden. I didn’t care about Danella. All I saw was him, charging headlong toward danger.

I even shouted for the sentries stationed nearby.

But Haldrick didn’t look back.

He tore his arm free from my grasp, striking my hand aside without hesitation. Heat flared across my knuckles where he’d knocked me away.

He took the stairs in a blur, faster than the guards could respond.

I watched as he caught Danella just in time, pulling her against his chest.

But the momentum carried them both backward.

The crate spilled.

They fell.

The impact echoed through the hall like thunder.

I froze at the top of the stairwell.

Haldrick lay sprawled on the ground, his body curved protectively around Danella’s. His shoulder had slammed hard into the iron railing—I heard the sharp grunt of pain he tried to suppress.

Yet when he looked at her—his eyes were impossibly gentle.

As if the frost that had ruled him for years had finally melted.

My hands were shaking.

The fall hadn’t been fatal.

But it could have been.

If his head had struck the stone instead of his shoulder, he might have died in that instant.

And still—

He hadn’t hesitated.

Not even for a heartbeat.

I stared down at my reddened hand—the one he had flung away moments before—and let out a hollow, broken laugh.

There was no warmth left in it.

Only something cold and bitter, settling deep in my bones.

I turned back to my desk.

My fingers trembled as I slid the silver mating ring from my hand.

The ring his mother had chosen. The one I used to press my lips to in secret, pretending it represented love instead of obligation.

“Enough,” I murmured.

I stood, walked to the hearth room and dropped the ring into the refuse bin.

It struck the bottom with a soft clink.

A small sound.

Like something final breaking.

Irreversible.

I pushed open the infirmary door of the Silverclaw Pack and warm moonlight spilled out.

Haldrick was propped against the bed carved with protective runes, one arm wrapped tightly in healing bandages infused with lunar herbs. His wolf aura was calm, steady—as he leaned close, murmuring reassurance to Danella, who sat beside him with reddened eyes.

“I already told you,” he said softly, his voice unusually gentle. “This wasn’t your fault. I chose to move that fast.”

Danella sniffed, tears clinging to her lashes. “But if I hadn’t slipped on the steps, you wouldn’t have been injured…”

Her shoulders curled inward, her posture small, fragile—like she was afraid of taking up space.

Haldrick’s mother sat at the bedside, patting Danella’s hand fondly. “You’ve always been tender-hearted. Even as a pup, you cried for days after cracking a ceremonial bowl.”

She smiled nostalgically. “And Haldrick was so distant back then. If not for you, he never would’ve learned how to soften.”

His father laughed quietly. “True. You even cooked for him during your academy days. The food was terrible, but he ate every bite. Said he didn’t want to hurt you.”

“We all believed you two would end up as mates,” he added easily.

The room glowed with warmth—like a perfectly balanced pack unit.

I stood frozen at the doorway, gripping the basket of spirit-fruit until the woven handle dug into my palm.

For years, I had been the one tending Haldrick’s wounds, managing his duties as Alpha heir, caring for his parents through illness and ritual fasting. I had endured their indifference, smiled through their coldness.

And yet, not once had I been spoken to with this warmth.

Haldrick finally noticed me.

The gentleness in his eyes vanished instantly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked coolly.

Danella startled and hurried to her feet, bowing slightly. “Luna—Vireya, I’m sorry. Alpha Haldrick was hurt because of me.”

“Please don’t blame him. This was my mistake. I never meant—”

Her voice trembled, light and harmless, like a frightened bird.

Before I could reply, Haldrick stepped forward and placed himself squarely between us, shielding her without hesitation.

“Stop,” he said firmly. “This was my decision. Danella had nothing to do with it. Don’t direct your anger at her.”

His mother sighed, clearly displeased. “Don’t make trouble here. Haldrick chose to protect her. There’s no reason to be upset, understand?”

I looked at them—every single one standing instinctively on her side—and felt something twist sharply in my chest.

I smiled.

Not aloud. Just a thin, bitter curve of my lips.

As if I were the unreasonable ex-Luna. The jealous woman threatening an innocent she-wolf.

Danella stepped forward again, trying to speak. “Vireya—”

I cut her off with a calm smile sharp enough to wound.

“Be thankful you survived,” I said evenly. “I came to see that much for myself. That’s all. You may continue playing family.”

I turned and walked out.

“Vireya!” Haldrick called after me.

I didn’t slow.

Outside the ward, I pulled out my communicator rune and activated it. “Trevian?”

His familiar, warm voice answered. “That’s rare. Everything alright?”

I stared at the glowing sigils lining the corridor.

“I want to leave the pack residence,” I said quietly. “Can you help?”

“When?” he asked, without hesitation.

“This afternoon.”

***

Back in the infirmary, silence settled thickly.

Danella’s tears spilled over as she sobbed, “Did I make her angry? I swear, I never meant to…”

Haldrick’s mother squeezed her hand gently. “Sweetheart, you did nothing wrong. Haldrick wouldn’t have risked his life if you didn’t matter to him. Don’t blame yourself.”

His father nodded. “Exactly. Vireya has always been…sensitive.”

Haldrick said nothing, staring at the closed door, an unfamiliar pressure tightening in his chest.

“Haldrick…” Danella whispered. “The den I’m staying in isn’t safe. My former mate keeps finding me. I’m frightened.”

“Can I stay with you for a while? Like before… during academy?”

Before Haldrick could respond, his mother answered briskly, “Of course she can. Right?”

Haldrick hesitated.

He knew bringing an unmated she-wolf into a Luna’s territory was improper.

But when he saw the fear in Danella’s eyes, he finally said, “Fine. You can stay for now.”

***

That evening, he brought her home.

“She’ll stay temporarily,” he said. “Her territory isn’t secure. Don’t misunderstand. She’s only a friend.”

“Oh,” I replied simply, not looking at either of them.

Haldrick frowned, unsettled by my calm.

The old me would’ve argued, cried, demanded explanations.

But now, I watched Danella’s faintly swollen eyes as though separated by glass—detached, unmoved.

Then the door opened again.

Heavy footsteps echoed.

“Done hauling your things,” a familiar voice drawled. “You collect junk like you’re prepping for war.”

Trevian stepped inside, dragging two suitcases.

He crossed the room and casually wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“You owe me dinner,” he said with a grin. “The expensive kind.”

Haldrick’s aura darkened instantly.

“What is this?” he demanded coldly. “Vireya—explain.”