BIRD STANLEY POV:

The click of the doorknob was unnaturally loud in the silent room.

Archibald walked in, bringing the cold night air and the faint, sweet scent of Seraphina's perfume with him.

His eyes landed on me, then on the suitcase at my feet. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a familiar, deep-seated mockery.

"What new game is this, Bird?" he asked, unfastening his cufflinks. His tone was dismissive, like he was talking to a child throwing a tantrum.

I didn't answer.

I simply picked up a document from the table beside me and held it out to him. It was the Pack's official Rejection agreement. My name was already signed at the bottom.

His gaze dropped to the papers, and the smirk on his face froze. "You got this from the Elders?"

"Yes," I replied calmly. "I requested to initiate The Rejection. Once you sign, I will leave and never come back."

He stared at me, and the air in the room thickened. A crushing weight pressed down on me-his Alpha aura, a power he used to command and intimidate. In the past, it would have made my knees weak, my breath catch in my throat.

But now, my heart was a graveyard. His power was just a cold wind blowing over tombstones. It meant nothing.

He saw my lack of reaction, and a flash of disbelief crossed his eyes. It was quickly followed by a cold, cruel laugh.

"Because of Seraphina? I told you from the beginning, Bird. You were just a substitute."

His words were meant to be daggers.

"I only accepted this union because the Elders insisted I needed a Luna while she was away," he continued, his voice brutal. "The mate-bond between us was a mistake from the start."

"I know," I said, looking directly at him.

My simple agreement stunned him again. He had expected tears, accusations, hysterics. Not this dead calm.

"Since it's a mistake, it's time to correct it," I said, pushing the document a little closer to him. "Sign it, Archibald. Set me free. And set yourself free."

He stared at the papers, then back at my face, searching for a crack in my composure, a hint of the act he was so sure I was putting on.

I met his gaze without flinching.

After a few tense seconds, he snatched the papers and a pen from my hand. He scrawled his name with a furious, jagged stroke.

"As you wish," he spat, throwing the document back at me. The edge of the paper sliced across the back of my hand, leaving a thin red line.

"Don't come to regret this, Bird. You are nothing without the Blackwater Pack."

I picked up the paper that represented my freedom. I folded it carefully and tucked it into the inner pocket of my coat.

"Thank you," I said. And I meant it.

My gratitude seemed to enrage him more than anything else. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like steel, tight enough to crush bone.

"Do you think this will get my attention? Is that it?" he snarled, leaning in close. His ice-blue eyes were burning with a fury I'd never seen before. "I'm telling you, it won't work. I will never love you."

I didn't struggle. I just looked up at his handsome, angry face.

"Archibald," I said softly. "Have you ever considered that I'm not trying to get your attention? That I just... don't want you anymore."

His hand recoiled as if he'd been burned. His face was a mask of pure, undiluted shock.

I rubbed my reddening wrist, not giving him another glance. I picked up the handle of my suitcase.

The sound of its wheels rolling across the hardwood floor was my final goodbye.

As I reached the door, I paused without turning back. "According to the agreement, I am to receive a severance of fifty million dollars from the Pack trust, and my wedding ring."

The ring was a technicality. It was already in my pocket.

"The money will be in your account," he said from behind me, his voice tight with suppressed rage. "Now get out of my sight."

I opened the door and walked out.

Behind me, the door slammed shut with a deafening bang that seemed to shake the entire mansion.

BIRD STANLEY POV:

I walked down the spiraling staircase, my suitcase wheels clicking softly behind me. Each step felt like I was treading on the ghosts of the last three years.

In the living room, Gavin Sharp, Archibald's Beta and second-in-command, was lounging on the sofa. He was clearly waiting for Archibald.

He saw me and my suitcase, and his eyebrows shot up. A glint of amusement lit his handsome, roguish face.

"Well, well. Is our Luna off on a vacation?" he asked in a light, teasing tone.

I ignored him and continued toward the main door.

Just then, Archibald came down the stairs. He'd changed into casual clothes, his face once again a mask of cool control.

He walked right past me as if I were a piece of furniture.

"She's throwing a tantrum," he said to Gavin, his voice low but loud enough for me to hear. "She'll be back in a few days."

Gavin let out a low whistle. "I'll bet you she doesn't last three days."

Archibald scoffed, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. "Three days? I'll bet one. You know she can't survive without me."

"What about the pup you lost?" Gavin asked suddenly, his tone turning serious for a moment. "Aren't you a little sorry?"

Archibald's hand paused. He then downed the whiskey in one gulp and slammed the glass onto the table.

"It was an unexpected nuisance," he said, his voice devoid of all emotion. "It's better this way."

That sentence pierced through the numbness. The last bit of warmth in my soul evaporated. I gripped the handle of my suitcase, my knuckles turning white.

I didn't linger. I pulled open the heavy front door and stepped out into the crisp autumn air. The cold wind on my face was a welcome shock, clearing my head.

I got into the waiting taxi I had called with my own savings.

As the car pulled away, I watched the magnificent prison I once called home shrink in the rearview mirror until it was gone.

My phone buzzed. A notification from my banking app.

A transfer of $50,000,000 had been completed.

I stared at the long line of zeros. There was no joy, only a bitter, biting irony. This was the price of three years of my life.

I didn't close the app. Instead, I navigated to my phone's alarms.

At the very top was a daily alarm set for 6:30 AM. The label read: "Archy's breakfast and morning coffee."

For three years, I had woken up to that alarm without fail. I'd prepared his breakfast and coffee by hand, just for the chance to see him for a few moments before he left for work.

Most days, he would just grab the sandwich and walk away without a word.

I stared at the label for a long moment.

Then, my thumb moved decisively over the screen.

Delete.

A confirmation box popped up. Are you sure you want to delete this alarm?

Yes.

From now on, my mornings belonged to me.

I took the wedding ring-that priceless, cold piece of metal-from my pocket and slipped it off my ring finger. It was loose. I had lost weight.

I didn't throw it away. I put it in my coat pocket with the signed Rejection agreement. It was a trophy. Proof of my escape.

I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the city lights blur past.

I didn't know what the future held, but for the first time in three years, I felt like I could finally breathe.

I opened my contacts and found a name I hadn't used in a long time: Kendal Beach.

I sent a short text.

"Kendal, it's me, Bird. I'm out. I need to talk."