I stayed at the infirmary far longer than I expected.

Part of it was the fractured ankle, which pulsed with pain no matter how still I lay. But the real reason was quieter, heavier—there was no one waiting to bring me back to the pack estate.

No one, except Ardyn.

Ardyn, who had once shared lecture halls with me at the Academy.

Ardyn, who had confessed his feelings years ago and stepped back without resentment when I told him my heart already belonged to another. To Thorne.

And now, somehow, he was the one sitting beside my bed when the nights stretched too long. He brought meals gentle enough for my weakened body. He stayed silent when I cried, never asking questions, never demanding answers. He appeared without making me feel indebted.

The morning the healers finally cleared me to leave, he wheeled me into the small moon garden behind the infirmary. Sunlight filtered through silverleaf trees, warm and calm. We sat in silence, listening to the wind brush the branches.

“I meant what I said before,” Ardyn spoke at last, watching me carefully. “You don’t have to return to Ridgefern Territory. If you want to leave… I’ll help you build a new life.”

I lowered my gaze to my hands.

They looked thinner. Slightly unsteady. Like hands that had clung too long and were finally letting go.

“Give me five days,” I said quietly. “There are things I need to settle. After that… if you’re still willing, I’ll go with you.”

His smile was soft, edged with something sad. “I won’t move an inch.”

***

By the time I reached the estate, the sun was already high.

Everything felt cruelly ordinary—wolves passing through the streets, guards changing shifts, neighbors tending courtyards—while something inside my chest twisted tight.

The cane tapped softly against the stone path as I limped toward the door. Each step reminded me how broken I still was.

Choosing Ardyn felt like stepping into the unknown.

But staying in a place where no one saw me felt worse.

I opened the door. Laughter greeted me.

I froze.

They were all there—Thorne, Arion, Axton… and Rionna. Sitting comfortably in the main hall, drinks in hand, like nothing had ever shattered. Rionna leaned easily against Thorne’s shoulder, her body angled toward his.

My mate.

My sister.

My brothers.

Together. Relaxed.

Their expressions shifted the moment they saw me.

“Oh,” Thorne said blankly. “Right… you’re back. How are you feeling?”

He had forgotten.

The urge to laugh rose sharp and bitter in my throat. None of them had visited me. Not once.

Before I could speak, Rionna stood, moving toward me with a gentle, practiced smile.

“Ray,” she said sweetly. “I missed you. I’m sorry we didn’t come—I've been unwell. But I’m better now. What about you? Are you alright?”

I stepped back instinctively, my skin crawling.

“No,” I said flatly. “I’m not.”

Her smile faltered as she reached for me. “Rayna—”

I knocked her hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

Axton stood immediately. “What’s wrong with you?” he snapped. “You know she’s fragile right now.”

Arion joined him. “She’s suffering. You don’t get to act like this.”

My voice cut through the room. “I was in the infirmary. I was hit by a carriage.”

Thorne exhaled sharply, irritated. “That was your fault,” he said. “You ran into the road. But Rionna—she’s ill. She’s not like you.”

“I’m still her sister,” Rionna said softly, eyes shimmering. “We’re both hurting. We should support each other.”

I shook my head. “I was hurting too. None of you came. I lost my pup and—”

Rionna suddenly swayed, clutching her abdomen.

Axton rushed forward. “She’s sick again.”

They moved instantly.

Thorne caught her. Arion fetched cloths. Axton murmured softly, holding her as if she might break.

And I stood there.

Unseen. Unheard. Invisible.

No one acknowledged what I’d said. I considered screaming it—forcing them to listen. But exhaustion settled into my bones.

I was fighting for space in a den that had never saved a place for me.

So I turned away.

I walked slowly toward the bedroom.

When I opened the door, my breath stopped.

Everything that belonged to me was gone.

My clothes. My keepsakes. My framed memories.

All replaced.

Rionna’s scent filled the room. Her cosmetics on the dresser. Her gowns hanging neatly by the mirror.

My hands trembled so badly I nearly dropped the cane.

I stepped back—and she was there.

Rionna.

Smiling. Not the fragile mask she wore for others. This smile was sharp. Satisfied.

“I really tried to be kind,” she said lazily. “But kindness never gave me anything. While I was gone, you took my life. My position. My mate. Even my brothers.”

She moved closer.

“I’m only reclaiming what was always mine. I should’ve done it five years ago.”

Her eyes were cold.

Then she added lightly, “I’ll give you a few days to leave. I’m not cruel. It wouldn’t look good if you ended up on the streets.”

I stared at her. My voice was quiet. “Are you truly ill?”

Her eyes snapped. “What do you think?”

But memories surfaced—fake collapses, invented pain, tears used like weapons.

“You think I’m pretending?” she raised her voice, loud enough to carry.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

Footsteps rushed down the hall. Arion and Axton appeared.

“She’s doing it again,” Rionna sobbed instantly. “She keeps saying I’m lying.”

Axton’s gaze hardened. “You’ve always been venomous,” he said. “No one ever liked you growing up. This is why.”

Arion stepped forward.

He grabbed the chain around my neck and tore it free—the pack pendant he’d given me years ago, swearing it meant loyalty.

“You don’t deserve this anymore,” he said coldly.

I didn’t resist.

I didn’t cry.

I just stood there, empty.

One by one, they left.

I lowered myself to the floor, my ankle burning, my side aching. I stayed silent. Because in a few days, I would be gone.

And when they finally understood what they had done…

It would already be too late.

I was finishing the last of my packing, pressing folded clothes into a half-closed travel satchel, when the ward bell rang.

I froze.

For a heartbeat, my pulse jumped.

Ardyn?

I checked my communicator. No missed calls. No messages. After a slow breath, I walked to the entrance.

A large white chest rested neatly before the door, bound with a wide ribbon of gold-threaded silk. Heavy. Refined. My name was etched across the lid in flowing runes.

No seal. No message. Only my name.

Unease and curiosity tugged me forward. I carried it inside, set it on the table and lifted the lid. My breath stopped.

Inside lay a ceremonial Luna gown.

Not just any gown—my gown.

The exact design I had drawn years ago, when I still believed Thorne and I would stand beneath the Full Moon together. Moon-ivory silk that shimmered softly. Lace sleeves spun fine as frost-thread. My fingers trembled as I brushed the fabric.

A tag had been sewn into the lining.

‘Rayna’, stitched by hand in gold.

My vision blurred.

Was this real?

Was this… him?

For one dangerous moment, hope surged—sharp and foolish. After the distance. The coldness. The betrayal. Was this Thorne’s apology? Was he finally ready to complete the Moon Rite? To give me what he had denied me for five years?

I let myself believe it.

Just for a moment.

I slipped into the gown slowly, breath held as the fabric settled against my skin like it had been waiting for me. It fit almost perfectly. I turned toward the mirror, hands pressed to my chest, eyes shining with fragile hope.

Then the door slammed open.

“Rayna, what do you think you’re doing?!”

I jumped.

Thorne stood there, fury and disbelief darkening his features. He crossed the room in long strides and seized the fabric at my shoulder, yanking it so hard the seams nearly tore.

“Why are you wearing that?”

“I—” My voice shook. “Isn’t this meant for me? My name is inside. It’s my design. The gown I dreamed of. I thought maybe… we were finally completing the bond.”

He laughed—short and cold.

“Have you lost your mind? We’re already mates.”

“Then why send this here?” I whispered.

“It’s not yours,” he snapped, brushing his hands over the silk like he was cleansing it. “It’s for Rionna. She wants a Moon Rite. A real one. She deserves it. She’s ill.”

My blood turned cold.

“She’s ill,” he repeated, as if that explained everything.

“She wants to stand beneath the moon,” he went on. “Wear the gown. Have the ceremony she was meant to have five years ago. This was always her fate.”

“It was mine too,” I said quietly. “I drew it. That dream was mine. Why give her something that belonged to me?”

Footsteps followed him in.

Arion and Axton entered.

“What’s all the noise?” Arion asked, then scoffed when he saw the gown. “Oh, this? Rayna, you’re not dying. Let her have it. If she likes your design, you can make another.”

Axton nodded. “You always overreact. It’s just one night. She deserves that much.”

“She deserves my dream?” The words barely left my mouth.

Rionna appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a pale shawl, playing fragility perfectly.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I just want to be a bride once. To stand beneath the moon before…” She let the words fade, eyes filling with practiced tears. “I won’t take him forever. Just for the ceremony. Let me borrow him.”

I looked at her. At all of them. Something inside me went completely still.

“You’re all unbelievable,” I said quietly.

Her lips trembled.

“Do whatever you want,” I continued flatly. “Hold your Moon Rite. Take the gown. Use my design. Borrow my mate. Take everything. I’m finished.”

I turned and walked away.

My legs felt numb, but my chest burned like it was being split open.

Back in my room, I opened drawers, chests, and shelves. I gathered clothes, letters, sketches—every remnant of the girl I had been. Every fragile hope I had guarded.

Behind the estate stood an old iron brazier.

I dropped everything inside.

And struck a flame.

Fire surged upward, hungry and bright. Smoke twisted into the night sky, carrying away photos of Thorne and me, handwritten vows, and the sketches of the gown I would never wear.

I remembered my brothers swearing loyalty. I remembered believing I belonged. I remembered Rionna clinging to my arm, calling me her favorite.

All lies.

Every one.

As the last page of my sketchbook curled into ash, arms wrapped around me from behind.

“Ray…” Thorne murmured, breath warm at my ear. “I’m sorry. I know this hurts. I didn’t want it to go this far. Just do this for her. She’s ill. You’re stronger. You can endure it.”

I said nothing.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered. “Tomorrow. Just us. I’ll fix everything.”

Too tired to argue, I nodded.

“…Fine.”

He exhaled in relief and pressed a soft kiss into my hair.

That night, I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to numb the ache.

But just as darkness claimed me…

“Rayna! Wake up!”

I jolted upright.

Thorne stood beside the bed, urgent and pale.

“We need your blood,” he said quickly. “Your sister’s condition is worsening. Your bloodline matches.”

My throat went dry.

“What…?”

“She’s failing,” he said, already gripping my arm. “Don’t make this difficult. Be useful for once.”

Then, colder…

“Be her blood reserve.”