Elena POV

The private airstrip was bathed in the harsh, clinical light of halogen lamps. It felt sterile. Efficient.

It smelled of jet fuel and money.

My father's security team moved around me like a phalanx. They were imposing men in dark suits, their expressions unreadable, their presence a living fortress.

"Miss Sterling," the head of security, a man named Kane, said softly. He draped a heavy wool coat over my shoulders. "The medical team is on the plane. They are ready for you."

I sat in the wheelchair, feeling impossibly small. I felt like a porcelain doll that had been smashed against a wall and glued back together with the wrong pieces.

"Thank you," I said.

My father hadn't come himself-he was in Tokyo closing a deal-but his influence was everywhere. The plane was a Gulfstream, sleek and silver. It was a chariot waiting to carry me out of hell.

A young woman, an Omega with kind eyes, walked up to me. "I'm Sarah, your father's assistant. We have everything you need. Clothes, food... pain management."

She looked at me as if I were precious. As if I mattered. It was so foreign I almost flinched.

"I just want to sleep," I said.

"You will," she promised. "You're safe now."

We were moving toward the ramp when I heard it. The guttural roar of an engine.

A black SUV tore onto the tarmac, bypassing the outer security. It skidded to a halt fifty yards away, tires screeching against the pavement.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Damien.

The door opened.

But it wasn't Damien who stepped out first. It was Victoria's driver. And then, Damien.

He looked disheveled. He was wearing the same clothes from the hospital, stained and wrinkled. He looked around wildly, his eyes scanning the row of planes.

He was looking for me.

"Go," I told Kane, my voice trembling. "Get me on the plane."

"Wait," Sarah said, looking at the car. "Is that...?"

Damien's eyes swept over our group. For a terrifying second, his gaze landed on me.

But I was surrounded by guards. I was wrapped in a coat that wasn't mine. I was sitting in a wheelchair.

He didn't recognize me.

He looked right through me, searching for the Luna he knew. The woman who stood tall and took his abuse. He didn't see the broken thing in the chair.

Victoria leaned out of the car window. She shouted something at him, pointing impatiently at her watch.

Damien hesitated. He looked at the plane, then back at the car.

He got back in the car.

He turned his back. Again.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"He didn't see you," Sarah whispered.

"No," I said, my voice gaining strength. "He never did."

I reached into my pocket. I pulled out the copy of the separation agreement-the one I had kept for myself. The paper was crinkled, stained with a single drop of dried blood.

I didn't need it. I didn't need a piece of paper to tell me I was free.

I tore it in half. Then in quarters.

I threw the pieces onto the tarmac. The wind from the jet engines caught them, scattering the white confetti into the dark night.

"Let's go," I said.

Kane pushed the wheelchair up the ramp. I didn't look back at the black SUV. I didn't look back at the Pack lands that were now just fading lights in the distance.

The cabin door closed with a heavy thud, sealing out the noise, the cold, and the past.

As the plane taxied down the runway, I felt the vibration in my bones. We lifted off, the gravity pressing me into the seat.

I looked out the window as the ground fell away. The world below became small. Damien became small.

I placed a hand on my empty, aching stomach.

"I promise," I whispered to the clouds. "I will never be weak again."

The plane banked left, turning toward the mountains, toward Zurich, toward a future that belonged only to me.

I was Elena Sterling. And I was finally awake.

Damien POV

The digital numbers on the dashboard climbed past one hundred and twenty.

The world outside the window was a blur of black and grey, trees whipping past like skeletal fingers clawing at the glass. I didn't slow down. The vibration of the steering wheel in my hands was the only thing that felt real.

It was the only thing that drowned out the silence.

Seven days.

One hundred and sixty-eight hours since I had stood on that tarmac and watched a plane disappear into the clouds. I didn't know who was on it then. I just knew that when I turned back to the car, the air felt thinner.

"Damien, you're going to kill us!"

Victoria's voice shrieked through the car's Bluetooth system, shrill and distorted. I had forgotten I was on the phone with her. I had forgotten she existed for the last ten miles.

"The gala is in ruins," she continued, her voice pitching up an octave. "The florists sent lilies instead of moonflowers. And the council members are asking where the Luna is. You need to come back and fix this."

I stared at the road. The white lines were hypnotic. Dash. Dash. Dash.

"Damien? Are you listening to me?"

"I'm driving," I said. My voice sounded rusty, unused, like a machine left out in the rain.

"Well, pull over! This is a disaster. Everyone is whispering. They think you can't control your household. They think-"

I reached out and tapped the red icon on the screen.

The car went silent. The engine roared, filling the void, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

I gripped the leather wheel until my knuckles turned white and the seams bit into my palms. My chest felt like it had been hollowed out with a spoon. It was a physical ache, a dull, throbbing pressure right behind my sternum.

I told myself it was stress. It was the merger. It was the unruly pack elders.

But I knew it was the house.

The house was too quiet.

I had walked into the master bedroom last night. It smelled of antiseptic cleaner and Victoria's cloying perfume. But underneath that, faintly, was the scent of rain and vanilla. Elena's scent.

I had opened her closet. It was empty.

Not just empty. Scrubbed.

There were no stray hairs. No forgotten shoes. No dust bunnies. It was as if she had never lived there. As if the last three years were a hallucination I had conjured up.

I swerved around a semi-truck, ignoring the angry blare of the horn behind me. I didn't flinch.

Why did it matter? She was just Elena. Quiet, mousy Elena. The woman who signed papers and sat at the end of the table. The woman I married because my father told me to.

So why did I feel like I was bleeding out?

My phone buzzed again. Victoria.

I didn't answer.

I thought about the divorce papers. They were sitting on my desk, signed. I hadn't filed them yet. I told myself I was too busy.

The truth was, looking at her signature-that shaky, jagged script-made me feel sick.

Ahead, I saw a sign for the exit to the Pack lands. I should turn. I should go home, fix the flowers, soothe Victoria, play the Alpha.

I slammed on the brakes.

The car fishtailed violently, tires screaming against the asphalt, smoke rising in the headlights. I came to a shuddering stop on the shoulder, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

I couldn't go back there. Not to that empty house.

I hit the steering wheel with the heel of my hand. Once. Twice.

I needed to find her. I needed to scream at her for leaving. I needed to drag her back and tell her she couldn't just quit.

I put the car in reverse, spinning it around on the narrow highway with a spray of gravel.

I wasn't going home. I was going hunting.

Damien POV

The notification hit my phone like a physical blow, vibrating against my palm with the weight of a gavel strike.

Status Update: Legal Dissolution of Bond. Finalized.

I stared at the screen until the pixels burned into my retinas. It was done. The law recognized what my heart refused to process. On paper, and in the eyes of the pack, we were strangers.

The silence in my temporary city office was shattered as the door burst open.

Marcus, my Beta, walked in. He looked ill, a sheen of cold sweat glistening on his forehead despite the aggressive hum of the air conditioning. He held a manila envelope with two hands, as if it contained a live grenade.

Victoria followed him in, a smirk playing on her lips. She looked radiant, pristine and untouched by the chaos currently unraveling my soul.

"Finally," she said, her gaze flicking to the phone in my hand. "I told you it was for the best. She was weak, Damien. She would have dragged the pack down."

She tossed a piece of paper onto the mahogany desk. It slid across the polished surface, stopping just under my hand. "And look at this. I had the doctor run a DNA test on the... remains found at the scene. Just to be sure."

My stomach lurched. I looked at the paper. It was a jumble of medical jargon, cold clinical terms for something that should have been life, but the conclusion was highlighted in neon yellow.

Inconclusive.

"It was probably a mercy," Victoria said, examining her manicured fingernails as if discussing the weather. "She couldn't even carry a child to term. Imagine if it had lived? It would have been defective."

Something inside me snapped.

It wasn't a thought; it was a physical fracture, a loud, violent crack in the center of my chest.

"Shut up," I said. It didn't sound like me. It came out as a low, feral growl.

Victoria froze, her hand pausing mid-air. "Excuse me?"

"I said shut up!" I roared.

I swept my arm across the desk in a blind rage. The lamp, the files, the expensive crystal decanter-everything went flying. Glass shattered against the wall, a symphony of destruction. Ink splattered across the Persian rug like black blood.

"You don't know her," I spat, standing up so abruptly my chair toppled over behind me. "You don't get to speak about her."

Victoria took a step back, genuine fear flickering in her eyes for the first time. "Damien, you're being irrational. I'm just trying to help you see-"

"Get out," I whispered.

Then, I let the Alpha command bleed into my voice, shaking the room. "Get out!"

She fled. The sound of her heels clicking rapidly down the hallway faded into silence.

I was alone with Marcus. He hadn't moved. He was still holding that envelope, his knuckles white.

"Where is she, Marcus?" I asked. My voice was shaking, the adrenaline crash leaving me hollow. "I want her location. Now."

Marcus swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Alpha... we don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Call her friends."

"She didn't have any," Marcus said quietly, his eyes fixed on the floor. "You didn't allow her to socialize outside the pack."

The accusation hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

"Call her family."

"Her father's company is a shell corporation. We don't have a direct line."

I ran a hand through my hair, pulling at the roots, trying to ground myself in the physical pain. "Think, Marcus! What did she like? Where did she go? What was her degree in?"

Marcus looked up at me then. His expression wasn't fearful; it was filled with a pity so profound it felt like a slap.

"She studied Architecture, Alpha. But she never practiced. You told her the pack needed a full-time Luna."

I froze.

The memory hit me-her excited face holding a portfolio, and my dismissive wave.

I didn't know her.

I had lived with her for three years. I had slept in the same bed. I had marked her neck.

But I didn't know her favorite color. I didn't know her coffee order. I didn't know a single dream she had because I had crushed them all before she could even speak them aloud.

The door creaked open again, dragging me out of my spiraling thoughts.

It was the Pack Seer, an old woman with milky, sightless eyes who rarely left the sanctuary of the caves. She hobbled in, her cane tapping a rhythmic warning against the floorboards.

"The balance is off," she croaked, her voice sounding like dry leaves skittering on pavement.

"Not now," I said, turning away, unable to deal with riddles.

"The child," she said.

I flinched. "Victoria's son is healthy. The heir is safe."

The Seer laughed. It was a dry, rattling sound that made the hair on my arms stand up. "That child is not the firstborn. The mother has birthed before. Years ago."

The room stopped spinning. It just tilted violently on its axis.

"What?" I whispered.

"Victoria has a child," the Seer said, her blind eyes seeming to bore straight through me. "A pup from another pack. Hidden. But the true heir... the Star... is gone."

I looked at Marcus. He looked as shocked as I felt.

Victoria had lied. About everything.

And Elena?

I had ignored her pregnancy for eight months. I hadn't asked about the baby. I hadn't felt the kicks. I had assumed... God, I had assumed she was just gaining weight. I had assumed she was letting herself go.

I was blind. I was stupid. And I was too late.

"Pack the car," I told Marcus. My voice was dead calm, a terrifying contrast to the storm raging inside me.

"Where are we going, Alpha?"

"We are going to find my wife," I said, my wolf rising to the surface, ready to tear the world apart to find her. "And God help anyone who stands in my way."