Kaia’s POV

As soon as I turned away from the hospital and stepped outside, everything around me faded into a dull hum. My wolf whimpered inside me—hurt, exhausted, silent—too drained even to bare her teeth. I should have shifted and run until the earth tore beneath my paws. But I was empty. Numb.

I had cancer.

The words still didn’t feel real. They floated in my head, blurry and surreal, like a nightmare I hadn’t woken from. And Alden—my mate, the father of the child growing inside me, my Alpha—had treated me like I was meaningless. Less than a stranger. He lifted the woman who shattered our life and carried her like his world revolved around her, while I stood alone, accused, dismissed, humiliated.

I was carrying his pup.

Yet he chose her.

Every step toward the Moonspire Packhouse felt heavier, like the ground wanted to swallow me whole. The breeze cut colder. Leaves rustled not in comfort, but like they whispered about my fall. The pack felt unfamiliar, foreign… hostile. As though the entire world witnessed my heartbreak and simply watched.

I reached our home—no, his home now—and hesitated in the doorway. The familiar blend of cedarwood and honey, Alden’s scent, was faint… already replaced by something floral. Lavender. Lilac.

Marinal.

Her smell clung to the house like rot beneath perfume.

My gaze landed on the photo from our mateship ceremony. His smile had been bright, real. His hand at my waist, our foreheads touching like fate was sealed between us. Slowly, I lifted the frame from the wall. My fingers did not tremble.

The crash when it hit the trash bin echoed across the silent room.

I didn’t react.

Quietly, methodically, I began to pack. Shirt by shirt, memory by memory. My body ached; every muscle felt inflamed, bones heavy with illness. The fatigue was bone-deep, the nausea constant, like poison threading through my veins. The sickness felt alive, pulling at me from within.

My pup fluttered beneath my palms, sensing my distress.

“I’m so sorry, little one,” I murmured, pressing both hands protectively against my belly. “We’ll leave this place soon. Somewhere safe. I swear.”

After a long soak—hot water attempting to calm the burn under my skin—I wrapped myself in a thick robe. I summoned the pack healers. Time was slipping through my fingers; if I wanted this child to live, I needed guidance. Even if I didn’t survive, I had to give my pup a chance.

The scent of wolfsbane tea and eucalyptus greeted me downstairs. The healers were already gathered, heads bowed respectfully. Elder Matteo stood among them—steady, wise, loyal. If anyone would fight for me, it was him.

“Luna Kaia,” he greeted, voice full of quiet concern. “We arrived as soon as we could.”

“Thank you,” I replied softly, my voice barely steady. “We need to discuss my condition…”

The front door swung open.

Alden entered, carrying Marinal in his arms like she was made of fragile crystal.

I stepped forward, blocking their path. “I told you not to bring her here.”

His expression hardened instantly. “She’s injured. Because of you.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “She threw herself into glass and bled on purpose. You think I can’t smell deceit? I’m sick, not blind.”

Marinal whimpered delicately. “I only came because I didn’t know where else to go… I would never burden you, Luna. I’m just thinking of my baby.”

A growl formed in my chest.

“You don’t belong in this house.”

Her lashes lowered, trembling dramatically. She slid Alden’s hand onto her stomach—barely swollen.

“If you want us gone, Alpha… we’ll leave. Even if I feel faint. I would never defy your Luna.”

Viper. Manipulative and cunning.

Alden’s tone cut through the room. “What happened to your compassion? She’s expecting a pup.”

My composure cracked. “And I’m not? Did you forget I’m your mate and the mother of your firstborn?”

Alden stared at me like I was a stranger he despised.

“If she makes you uncomfortable, Kaia… maybe you should go.”

The room stilled.

He said it.

He actually said it.

In front of the healers.

Some dropped their gazes in shame. Elder Matteo’s jaw tightened in silent anger, but even he remained still. No one moved. No one spoke.

Words lodged in my throat. My voice felt trapped beneath grief and disbelief.

Slowly, I inhaled.

“Very well,” I whispered. “Do as you please.”

I turned away. I would not crumble—not here, not for him.

Marinal’s voice floated behind me, honey-coated poison.

“Oh, Alpha, did she break your mateship photo? That’s such a pity… it looked so beautiful where it was.”

My steps paused—but I did not turn.

“She’s being dramatic,” Alden muttered. “She always comes back after she cools off.”

I walked out of the house without looking back. A single tear slid down my cheek.

And it was the final tear I would ever waste on Alpha Alden.

Kaia’s POV

I spent the night tucked away in a tiny lodge at the very edge of pack territory—just me, the freezing wind, and the echo of a mate bond I could no longer feel. I thought distance might numb the ache clawing through me, but all it did was make the silence louder. Space didn’t heal me; it reminded me how completely I’d shattered.

When dawn crept in, I returned to the packhouse. One hand instinctively cradled my belly as I stepped inside. I paused at the threshold, breath catching. The scent wasn’t the one I left. Marinal’s perfume—sweet lilac rolled in synthetic rosewater—hung in the air like poison, weaving through the home that used to be mine.

My wolf rumbled with warning, her ears pinned back.

I climbed the stairs slowly, dread tightening around my ribs. Voices drifted from my room—healers’ low tones, nurses murmuring softly. And her voice. Marinal’s. In my space.

My pulse thundered so loudly it drowned everything else. That room held every tender dream I ever had—warm evenings curled on the window seat, quiet nights whispering plans for a family, love painted in soft colors and candlelight.

All of it soiled.

I swallowed hard, steadied my wolf, and pushed the door open.

The world tilted.

She was sprawled across my bed like it already belonged to her, wrapped in the sheets I’d chosen—my sheets. The vanity I used every morning had been scrubbed clean of me, now cluttered with her perfumes and brushes. Her photos sat smugly where my journal and crystals used to rest.

Rage detonated inside me. My vision tunneled red. I marched forward and seized her arm, yanking her upright.

“What are you doing in here?” My voice erupted like a snarl.

Before I could drag her from the bed, strong arms ripped me backward.

“Alpha!” she screamed dramatically. “Help me!”

And as if summoned by her tears, Alden appeared, storming toward us.

“Kaia, stop!” he barked, voice cracking with anger. His grip on me was iron cold, pulling me out into the hallway. “You’re losing your mind.”

I ripped myself free, tears burning. “This is my room. Mine. You—”

“Enough,” he snapped, slicing his hand through the air. “Marinal likes this room. I offered it to her. Find another.”

I stared at him, stunned. “Those healers are here for me. I’m sick, Alden. I’m dying—”

He cut me off. “She fell. You hurt her. She needed care, so I brought them. And if you keep acting like this, maybe being mated to you was a damn mistake.” His voice dripped with disgust. “You’re exhausting to deal with. You don’t listen to me at all.”

Something inside me turned to ice.

“You don’t mean that,” I whispered, barely breathing.

His gaze was flat. “If you can’t behave, then leave. Raise your pup somewhere else.”

The world scraped away beneath my feet. My knees hit the ground before I realized I’d collapsed, arms wrapped around my belly like I could shield my unborn child from his cruelty. My throat burned but no sound came out.

I didn’t plead. I didn’t scream.

I simply stood, legs trembling like they might snap, and walked toward the hall.

Later, lying on the stiff guestroom mattress he told me to use, I didn’t have anger left—not for him, not for her. Weariness soaked into my bones. The illness gnawed through my body, my joints stiff, skin feverish. My wolf curled close within me, little presence pressed against my soul like she wanted to shield me too.

My phone buzzed. I lifted it weakly.

A message from Marinal.

I opened it.

Alden brought little postcards for the baby. Isn't he the sweetest father?

Something inside me cracked.

Another recording.

Marinal, I hope you’re resting. Kaia acted up again but don’t worry, I scolded her. This stress isn’t good for you.

His tone—tender, gentle—was like a blade sinking into my back.

A third.

I hesitated. Then hit play.

Alden’s voice poured out, warm, devoted.

Don’t worry, love. I made you chamomile tea. Our pup is healthy. You’re glowing.

My hands trembled so violently the phone nearly slipped.

Everything that was supposed to be mine—our Luna suite, the shared study, our bed—felt like a memory. A script. I had been the rehearsal. Marinal was the final performance.

A laugh scraped out of my throat—too hollow to be humor. My wolf whimpered, and I wrapped both arms around my belly.

“It’s alright,” I whispered to my pup, voice shaking. “It’s just us now.”

A soft kick answered beneath my palm.

“I’ll protect you,” I vowed quietly. “Whatever it costs.”

No tears came. I refused to give him another piece of me.

I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly.

Freedom was rising on the horizon. I wasn’t there yet—but I was moving toward it.

For now, I had my unborn child. My failing body. And a heart still beating despite every fracture.

And soon, I would have my life back—far away from a mate who never deserved me.

Kaia’s POV

Ever since Marinal settled into the rooms that were once ours, everything between Alden and me shifted—quietly, like a storm changing direction before anyone noticed the sky darkening. He haunted the edges of my existence, torn between remorse and whatever twisted devotion he felt for her. Even during my cancer infusions, when I lay weak and aching in a sterile bed, he wasn’t there for me—he was beside her. Stroking her hair. Whispering comfort. Treating her like the Luna that I was.

He only learned about my cancer today. Not because he cared enough to ask—but because he finally overheard what he’d refused to listen to all this time.

And by then, I had stopped hoping. My heart had already slammed its gates shut.

That evening, after another wave of treatment left my bones aching like they were turning to dust, I dragged myself through the pack hospital halls. Every step felt like it scraped something raw inside me. The magic was harsh, fast, unforgiving—pushing me toward survival while draining the life right out of me.

I should have stayed away—gone anywhere but home. Yet somehow, instinct pulled me back to the place that once felt safe.

I walked the corridor toward the Alpha wing, half praying he wouldn’t be there and half terrified that he would. A warm glow spilled from beneath his door. Marinal’s voice floated through the crack, soft as sugar-coated venom.

“Alpha… may I wear the Moonspire Moonstone?” she murmured—sweet, innocent, pleading. “The one you gave Kaia when you pledged your lives together? I only want to feel cherished… just like she did.”

My breath hitched, and I pressed myself against the cold wall.

The Moonstone.

The Luna heirloom passed down generations—placed at my throat under moonlight as Alden vowed loyalty and forever. My symbol. My vow. My future.

I listened to history crumble in two sentences.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Alden whispered, a gentle tone that had once been mine. “It would look beautiful on you. At least until the baby arrives.”

A quiet kiss brushed her cheek. The impact felt like a blade sinking into my ribs.

Then his voice dipped low. “I’ll talk to Kaia. She’ll understand.”

That was the moment I finally felt the bond snap—not with a scream, but with a silence sharp enough to bleed.

Footsteps shuffled behind the door. Our eyes met in that sliver of light. And for the first time… I felt absolutely nothing for him.

I turned. My legs buckled, and the hallway spun. My wolf whimpered deep inside me—hurt, furious, abandoned.

Then everything blurred and I found myself pulled into his room, his hands steadying me.

“Kaia—did you hear—”

“Go ahead,” I interrupted softly. “Give it to her. Let her wear it as long as she likes.”

His brows lifted, shock flickering. “You… truly don’t mind?”

“I don’t,” I whispered.

Relief washed over him like he’d escaped a punishment he deserved. “I knew you’d be reasonable.”

He threaded his fingers through mine with false tenderness, as if he thought this half-hearted touch could erase betrayal. My gaze swept the room, landing on the small table where divorce documents—termination of Luna title and bond—sat unfolded and waiting.

He hadn’t even bothered to hide them.

“Alden.” My voice steadied. “Just sign.”

He blinked. “You’re sure? You don’t want—anything? No demands?”

I placed the papers in his hands. “Sign.”

He didn’t read. Not a single line. He simply scribbled his name—careless, blind, exactly as I expected.

When he set the pen down, he sighed. “I know you’re doing this for leverage. It’s fine. But don’t ever doubt your place here.” He touched my wrist lightly. “Or in my heart.”

A hollow smile curved my mouth. Lies taste bitter when you’ve stopped needing them.

I slowly unclasped the Moonstone at my throat. The chain slid over my fingers—cool, final. He stared, startled, but I placed it gently in his palm.

“She can have it,” I murmured. “Forever, if that makes her feel complete.”

He hesitated, something like longing flickering in his eyes. But it died quickly, replaced by duty—or whatever he chose to call that weakness.

Then he hugged me.

My body went rigid, my wolf silent. There was no comfort in him anymore—only memory and suffocation. I eased backward, slipping free from his arms.

“Go to her,” I whispered. “That’s where you belong now.”

He obeyed. Without hesitation, without looking back. The door shut behind him as he entered her room. Marinal’s delighted laughter echoed through the hall when the clasp clicked around her neck.

I stood there for one heartbeat. Then I turned and walked away.

Hours later, I sat alone by the frost-kissed window in the forgotten guestroom. Moonlight spilled over my trembling hands. Not from sorrow—sorrow had burned itself out—but from the quiet battle between my body and illness. My wolf curled inside my spirit, wounded and loyal, pressing herself against me with soft, desperate need.

“It’s over,” I whispered to her. “It’s time to go. We’ll be safe soon.”

A tiny kick stirred beneath my ribs—soft, brave, alive.

My child. The only heart that truly mattered.

I cradled my belly with both arms. “I’ll protect you,” I vowed. “No more pain. No more humiliation. Just us.”

The moon dipped behind clouds. My breathing steadied.

Tomorrow, I would walk out of this place for good. No hesitation. No looking back.

On my calendar, I drew a circle around the date.

The day I would leave.

The day I would finally reclaim myself.

Goodbye, Alpha.