Ivy’s POV

I sat alone on the edge of the bed that used to be mine and Ethan’s—though it had been cold on his side for over a year. The silence pressed in around me, suffocating, so thick it was as if the very walls bore witness to my despair.

The room, once filled with warmth and the scent of lavender from my oils, now reeked of loss. The love I had once clung to like a lifeline was long gone, replaced with the bitter stench of betrayal.

I stared at the phone in my hand, my thumb hovering over the call button. I hesitated, swallowing hard.

With a deep breath, I pressed it.

The line connected almost immediately. “Ivy,” came Alpha Vincent’s voice—deep, commanding, and unmistakably angry. His tone was a blade wrapped in velvet. “To what do I owe this unexpected call?”

I gripped the phone tightly. “I… I need your help.” I sighed and opened my mouth to explain, “I need you to come get me out of Foreland Pack. I’ll be ready once the elder confirms everything is finalized.”

Silence followed. When he finally spoke, there was a bitter edge to his words. “Help? After all these years of silence? After choosing Ethan over me?”

The guilt was immediate. “I made mistakes… I know. I thought I knew what I wanted.”

He scoffed. “Mistakes, huh? I offered you everything, Ivy—mateship, love, a future. And you ran toward the first wolf who sweet-talked you into believing he could give you more.”

“I thought he would learn to love me,” I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded. “I thought I made the right choice.”

“And now you see the truth,” he snapped. “What do you want from me?”

“I’m leaving him,” I said quietly. “But I need time. There are things I have to handle before I go.”

Vincent paused, his voice lowering. “You have two weeks. After that, if you’re not free from him, I will come and take what’s mine.”

Then the line went dead.

I let the phone slip from my hand, the dial tone humming in my ears. Vincent’s words clung to me like a second skin. His possessiveness hadn’t changed—but neither had his desire to protect me. I didn’t know whether that comforted me… or frightened me.

That night, sleep never came. I drifted through the Luna quarters like a ghost, fingers trailing along polished wood and velvet curtains. I found myself opening drawers and pulling out gifts Ethan had given me over the years.

A ruby necklace. Beautiful, expensive… but impersonal. I always preferred emeralds, the color of nature and healing.

An orange handbag. Vibrant, bold—Farah’s style, not mine. I preferred soft sage greens, muted earth tones.

A golden bracelet, elegant but cold. Silver felt more like me—softer, quieter, but stronger in its own way.

It was all so clear now. Even in the things he gave me, Ethan had never really seen me.

When dawn broke, I heard the front door creak open. Ethan walked in, rumpled and exhausted. The scent of another woman clung to him like a curse. Farah.

His eyes scanned the items laid out on the table. “What’s all this?”

“Just things I no longer need,” I replied, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “Perhaps Farah would appreciate them. They seem more her taste.”

He didn’t respond. No anger. No concern. Just a slight nod, like I’d offered him nothing more than spare clothes to donate. The indifference in his eyes was worse than rage.

Suddenly, a crash echoed through the room.

We both turned to see Farah, her wide eyes fixed on the shattered remains of our wedding photo. A huge wedding photo… of me and Alpha Ethan.

“Oh no,” she gasped, feigning innocence as she knelt beside the shards. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to knock it over.”

Ethan rushed to her side, his face etched with worry. “Are you hurt?”

Farah shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “Just startled.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest like she was the most precious thing in the world. “Nothing is more important than you and your safety.”

I stood there, frozen in place. The jagged glass between us mirrored the chasm in our relationship—once whole, now irreparably shattered.

“It’s fine,” I muttered, kneeling to pick up the pieces. One of them sliced my finger, and blood welled up instantly. I ignored it.

Then, after shattering the wedding frame like nothing, I saw how Farah lifted her head, her eyes gleaming with mock concern. “Alpha… I don’t feel safe alone right now… my staff is off-duty. Could I stay here for a while?”

“Of course,” Ethan replied without hesitation. “Take the Luna quarters. It’s the most comfortable.”

He didn’t even glance at me. He didn’t care whether I agree or not.

I left the room silently and moved into the guest room. The air was stale. The furniture cold. The mattress stiff. This room had never been meant for a Luna.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face looked hollow. The circles under my eyes, the pale tint to my cheeks—it was as if being with Ethan had drained the life from me.

Tears fell freely now. Not just from heartbreak. But from the years I’d lost. From the woman I had let myself become. I had given up my strength, my fire, for a wolf who only saw me as a convenience.

But no more.

That night, I opened a blank page in my old journal and began to write—not about Ethan, not about the betrayal—but about myself. My thoughts, my pain, and the things I would never again sacrifice for someone else’s approval.

I wasn’t a mere second option.

Ivy’s POV

For two years, I’ve worn the Luna title like an ill-fitting cloak—heavy, burdensome, never truly mine. And even after all this time, Alpha Ethan and I don’t share a bed.

He once told me, “I just sleep better alone.” But the way he said it—the way he wouldn’t even look me in the eye—told me what he really meant. He didn’t want to sleep beside me. Me, specifically.

Today, as the late sun cast long shadows through the tall windows of the pack house, Ethan stood in the middle of the hall and announced that Farah would be staying for a while. Not just staying—she’d be taking the Luna quarters.

My quarters.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t argue. I gave a small nod and murmured, “Alright.” I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for a reaction, probably even expecting a fight. But I was too tired. There was no point fighting for a place I was already being pushed out of.

When I turned away to begin packing, his footsteps echoed down the corridor—and just like that, he was gone. Again. With Farah.

In my old room, sunlight streamed through the windows, painting golden streaks on the carpet. I stood in the middle of the space I once tried so hard to make feel like mine. Now, it just felt hollow.

I pulled down a framed photo from the shelf—our wedding photo. The same one Farah knocked over earlier that morning. The glass was still cracked, but I hadn’t had the heart to throw it away. As I laid it flat inside the box, I didn’t see the broken edge sticking out.

My hand slipped.

“Shit—” I gasped as I fell to the floor, my knee landing squarely on the jagged glass. Pain shot up my thigh like fire, hot and biting. Blood immediately began to trickle down my leg, staining the hem of my dress. The wound wasn’t small—it was deep, and I could already feel the skin around it swelling.

But when I looked toward the door, it was empty. No footsteps. No scent of my so-called mate. He hadn’t even noticed I’d hurt myself. He hadn’t bothered to check on me.

I bit down hard on my lower lip, swallowing the sob that threatened to escape. My fingers trembled as I pressed the edge of my shirt against the bleeding wound. This pain was nothing compared to the one in my chest.

Not once in two years had he offered me comfort. Not when I had nightmares. Not when I was sick. Not even when I was kidnapped and thrown to rogues like a piece of meat.

Farah waltzes in and he hands her my bed, my room, my title—like it all belonged to her all along.

By sunset, I’d finished moving out of the Luna quarters. I carried the last box into one of the guest rooms, limping slightly as the pain in my knee worsened. The smell of antiseptic still clung to my hands after treating it myself. No healer had been called. I didn’t want to give anyone another reason to whisper about me being “too weak to be Luna.”

When Ethan finally returned, still smelling faintly of Farah’s jasmine scent, he glanced at the stack of boxes lining the hallway.

“Why are you packing up so much stuff?” he asked, his tone casual—as if the past few days hadn’t turned my world upside down.

I gave him a small smile. “Just clearing things I don’t need anymore.”

His brow twitched, but he didn’t press. “Farah’s just staying temporarily.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

He said nothing else and walked away.

Later that night, he informed me, in a clipped tone, that we’d be attending the Alpha Gathering.

“You want me to come?” I asked, surprised.

“You’re still Luna, aren’t you?” he said flatly. “You’re expected.”

Right. Of course. But I wasn’t the only woman on his arm that night.

Farah came too, draped in emerald silk, her glossy hair braided with moonflowers. She looked radiant. Ethan didn’t hide the way he admired her. The way his eyes trailed her every movement.

We arrived at the venue, a towering hall lit by chandeliers and filled with the scent of power and polished silver. Alphas from across the region mingled in tailored suits, their Lunas standing gracefully beside them. When we entered, the host—a thickly built Alpha from Granite Ridge—approached us with a warm smile.

“Alpha Ethan, Luna Ivy—how lovely to see you again.”

Before I could even return the greeting, Ethan corrected him.

“She’s not my Luna,” he said quickly, gesturing toward me with barely a glance. “This is Farah—daughter of the Snowland Pack.”

The host blinked in confusion, then quickly recovered with a courteous nod. “Of course.”

I said nothing. Not a flicker of pain showed on my face. But inside, I felt something wither.

He didn’t even call me by title. Just my name. Like I was no more than a former acquaintance tagging along.

We sat at our table, and I tried to swallow the bitterness building in my throat. My wolf stirred uncomfortably in my chest, restless, angry, humiliated.

But then something strange happened.

As I sat there, staring at the golden-rimmed plates, my stomach turned. A strange scent filled the air, faint but intoxicating. My heartbeat picked up, and my palms grew clammy.

I inhaled again, sharper this time.

That scent. My wolf suddenly lifted her head, ears alert.

She began to pace inside me, growling low with confusion and… anticipation?

The scent was pulling at her. At me. Like a magnet. Like fire to dry wood. It wrapped around my senses and squeezed.

I couldn’t breathe.

“I need some air,” I said quickly, rising to my feet. The room was suddenly too loud, too bright, too suffocating.

I didn’t wait for Ethan’s permission. I slipped through the side door of the hall, heart racing.

Because that scent didn’t belong to Ethan.

And whoever it did belong to… my wolf recognized him.

And that terrified me.

Ivy’s POV

The nausea hit me like a crashing wave, sudden and forceful. It wasn’t the kind that came from eating too little or standing too long—it was deeper, sharper, as if something inside me was being twisted by unseen claws. I clutched my head and leaned against the hallway wall just outside the gathering room, trying to breathe through it.

This was new. My wolf was restless, pacing, ears pinned back, tail low—not in fear, but in wild discomfort. I had no idea what was happening to us, only that I had to get away. Now.

The hotel staff had given us access to private rooms above the venue in case we needed rest during the gathering. I found an empty one and slipped in, locking the door behind me. The moment I stepped inside and shut out the suffocating crowd and mingling scents of alphas and betas, my body began to calm. My breath steadied. The nausea ebbed into a dull throb, and my wolf, though still alert, quieted.

I sat on the edge of the bed for a long while, breathing in the scentless air, my head bowed low. Maybe it was stress. Or maybe it was the humiliating introduction Ethan gave back there—denying our marriage, calling me just Ivy while Farah stood beside him glowing like a smug little star.

But just as I began to gather myself to return downstairs, I heard the door click.

I turned sharply, startled. The knob twisted, and Farah slipped in, not even pretending to knock. She closed the door behind her with a soft click, her scent wafting in like poison.

“Well,” she said, her smile stretched thin and sharp. “If it isn’t the perfect Luna, hiding away while the real guests enjoy the event.”

I didn’t rise. “What do you want?”

She walked slowly toward me, heels clicking like warning signals. “You always do this,” she said with a fake sigh. “Act like you don’t care. But you do. You’re so desperate for Ethan’s love, even now, after everything.”

I looked at her evenly, my voice quiet. “I’m not desperate. You can have him all you want.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Like I need your permission. You were never his first choice. Hell, you weren’t even a choice. You clung to him like a weed after I left years ago, thinking being Luna would make you worth something.”

My stomach twisted again, stronger this time. My knees buckled slightly as I stood. I didn’t understand what was happening to me—why my entire body felt like it was rejecting the air itself.

“Whatever game you’re playing, Farah,” I said through clenched teeth, “I’m done playing it with you.”

“Oh, I’m not playing,” she said, and then—without warning—turned on her heel and walked to the door. Before leaving, she looked over her shoulder and added with syrupy malice, “You might want to rest a little longer. You look sick.” Then she locked the door from the outside.

I rushed after her, but she was already gone. I jiggled the handle—it wouldn’t budge. She’d even hung a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the knob. I could hear the click as it settled.

When I thought the strange feelings subsided, it resurfaced once again. And then it all hit at once.

My knees gave out and I collapsed onto the bed, my body burning from within. My wolf howled inside me—desperate, frantic, needing. But needing what?

My mind tried to reach out, frantically calling through the mindlink. Alpha Ethan. Ethan, I need—

Nothing.

Silence.

No answer.

I curled into the bed, shaking and burning and breathless. My skin prickled like fire ants crawling just beneath the surface. My wolf clawed at my insides, and my heart pounded so hard it hurt. The nausea, the heat, the need in my chest—I didn’t understand any of it. I felt like my body was desperate of something.

And just like that, everything faded.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

Third Person POV

The alpha gathering wound down with laughter, wine, and hollow declarations of alliance. But Ivy did not return.

Alpha Ethan stood with a drink in his hand, his arm loosely around Farah’s waist. He glanced around the thinning crowd once or twice—but only because Farah commented absently, “She must’ve gone home early. I think I saw her looking upset.”

Ethan didn’t even pretend to be concerned.

“She’s dramatic,” he muttered. “Always sulking when things don’t revolve around her.”

Farah offered a pitying look. “Well, I do feel bad. I hope she doesn’t do anything…rash.”

Ethan chuckled, sipping from his glass. “She’s not that unpredictable. She’ll be fine.”

And with that, he ushered Farah toward the car that would return them to the Foreland Pack. Not once did he look back. Not once did he ask anyone where his Luna had gone.

The next morning, a cleaning lady at the hotel knocked softly on a private room door. When there was no answer, she entered to tidy up—and gasped.

Ivy was still on the bed, unconscious. Her skin was pale, but her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her breathing was shallow, and her temperature burned beneath her skin.

“Oh, Goddess,” the woman whispered. “Miss?”

Ivy stirred slowly, blinking groggily as if waking from a fevered dream.

“Do you need a doctor? I can call someone—”

“No,” Ivy rasped, struggling to sit up. “No, I’m fine.”

She wasn’t.

She gathered her composure and forced her body upright, every muscle protesting. She didn’t know what had happened to her last night. But she knew it had been real. Her wolf still trembled inside her, confused and needing something—or someone.

She left the room quietly and hailed a cab.

In the back seat, she found her phone tucked in her handbag. Several missed messages blinked on the screen—but none from Ethan.

Not even one.

Instead, her eyes fell on a string of messages from a name she hadn’t expected to see again so soon.

Alpha Vincent.

[I saw you last night at the alpha gathering, but you disappeared. I’m sure of it. Where did you go?]

[I tried to find you but I started feeling sick… damn it. It was strange.]

[Are you alright?]

[If you don’t answer, I’ll send my elite wolves to find you.]

[Also, I can’t wait weeks to get you out of Ethan’s Pack. I’ll give you a few days. After that… I’m coming to get you.]