I fell ill.

Holding the dried-up paints and brushes, I collapsed in the spring.

Outside the window, clusters of withered flowers hung like dead weight, their lifeless forms a stark reminder of my own state.

Sometimes, I felt those sickly blooms were me—fragile, broken, and fading.

The flowers were dying, and so was I.

My mother’s painting, her last keepsake, was gone, and with it, my spirit seemed to wither away.

Day after day, I counted the hours, waiting for my message to reach Lawson, my mentor and closest ally in the Oliver Pack.

When would he arrive in the city?

Sometimes, I would count for what felt like an eternity, only for my attendant to tell me it had only been a day.

Finally, a message came from Lawson:

“I’ll arrive in seven days. I’ve met a friend along the way who’s skilled in restoring paintings.”

By my calculations, he’d be here tomorrow.

And that friend of his might just be the one to save my mother’s painting!

With renewed determination, I packed the painting and supplies into a chest, carefully arranging each item.

That night, a fire broke out in the Bennett estate.

The rest of the estate was untouched, but the flames engulfed the quarters of the two young mates, Louise and her sister.

The fire raged with an intensity that left everyone shaken.

The sickly flowers outside my window reflected the blaze, their branches consumed by the flames.

As I watched them burn to ashes, I felt as though I, too, had been reborn.

The journey to Qingzhou was long and tedious.

On the way, I overheard a pair of werewolves whispering with smirks plastered across their faces:

“Has the Alpha of the Medina Pack woken up yet?”

“Yes, three days ago. But he’s been at odds with the Bennett Pack. It’s a mess.”

“Of course it is. How can an Alpha mourn his mate’s sister so desperately? I heard he shredded through the Bennett mansion until his claws were raw and bleeding. It’s terrifying.”

“I wonder who Alpha Taylor truly loves?”

“Who knows?”

Lawson, my Beta companion, cleared his throat, his expression tinged with concern.

“Eden,” he began carefully, “why did you destroy the Bennett mansion and fake your death before leaving? There must be more to it.”

He seemed to have more to say, but he held his tongue.

I gazed out at the rippling waves beyond the boat, my heart eerily calm.

“Lawson,” I said, my voice steady, “the past is behind me. From now on, I’m no longer Eden Bennett. I’ve taken my mother’s name. I’m Eden Mendez.”

Faking my death wasn’t for anyone else’s sake.

Certainly not to make Alpha Taylor Medina regret his actions to the point of despair.

That would’ve been too petty, too ridiculous.

I was never someone’s pawn, nor did I want my life tied to another’s emotions.

Whether Alpha Taylor thrived or suffered, it no longer concerned me.

From this moment on, I was no longer Eden Bennett.

And I would never see him again.