Chapter 1The day I gave birth, my mate found me EMPTY on the operating table.
Drugged me? Stole my wolf essence? Killed our child for her?
Well, my dear mate—it's time you learned what happens when a woman STOPS FORGIVING.
I watched him tear through every border looking for me.
Begged. Screamed. Broke.
Huh. Too bad.
Mercy isn't in my vocabulary anymore.
His pack? Crumbling.
His pathetic bitch? Crippled.
Me?
I'm gonna hold my daughter, sitting on this whole territory's THRONE.
--
The first time my Alpha mate asked me to donate my wolf marrow to save his first love, I said yes. I was the pack's Luna. That's what I should do.
Then I got pregnant. And he asked me to do it again.
This time? I said no—not for me. For the pup growing inside me.
He didn't fight me. He didn't yell. He just slipped suppressants into my dinner.
I woke up on the pack's operating table.
Empty.
No pup. No marrow. No apology.
Just a text: "We can have another pup."
I had nothing left. So I made one call. The Werewolf Regulation Bureau. I buried him with his own secrets.
Now? He's screaming my name. Begging. Crying. His pack is crumbling. His wolves are dying.
His first love? Sold to a rival pack as lowest omega.
And me?
And me? I got strong. Strong enough to force them to sever our mate bond.
I'm not his Luna anymore.
I'm the wolf who ended his pack.
And he never even saw me coming.
--
That day, my Alpha mate Darius Blackmoor asked me to donate my wolf marrow to one of the pack's core members. I looked into those cold, indifferent eyes and agreed without a second thought. Back then, I genuinely believed that as the Luna of the Blackmoor Pack, that was just part of the job.
A year later, I got pregnant.
Then he came to me again. Said he needed me to donate one more time because Selene Sinclair's condition had flared up.
That was the first time I said no.
Not for myself—for the pup growing inside me.
"No."
He didn't yell. Didn't argue. He just... slipped suppressants into my dinner that night without saying a word.
When I came to, I was already lying in the pack's private medical wing. The air smelled heavily of silver barrier mesh, burning my skin on contact. My hand shot to my stomach instinctively—
Flat. Empty.
Then the pain hit. A deep, throbbing ache in my lower back that felt like something had been ripped out of me.
They'd already extracted the marrow. And in the process, they'd taken my pup too.
I turned my head. Didn't cry. Didn't scream. I just picked up my phone and dialed a number I'd sworn I'd never call in this lifetime—the Werewolf Regulation Bureau.
I turned myself in. And I handed over every single secret I knew about the pack.
Later, Darius went crazy looking for me, shouting like a mad wolf: "Thalia Stone! Where are you?! We can have another pup—I promise!"
But under the Werewolf Regulation Bureau's lockdown, no one answered his calls anymore.
...
"Thalia, once you enter the Wolf Protection Program, all bonds to your past will be severed permanently. Minimum term is ten years. Are you absolutely sure?"
The wolf agent's voice on the other end was calm. Professional. Matter-of-fact.
I didn't hang up. Instead, I held the phone to my ear as I slowly descended the stairs.
Darius was standing in the middle of the living room, flipping through a notebook I'd deliberately left on the coffee table.
My journal. Two years' worth of entries from my time as Luna.
The first page had a date I remembered clearly. Three days after I became Luna. The first time I got hurt protecting the pack. I wasn't used to combat yet—a silver blade grazed my shoulder, soaking my sleeve in blood.
I flipped back to the first few pages in my mind.
When they carried me back to the medical wing, pack members crowded the doorway, faces pale with fear.
He wasn't there. He said he had an important pack meeting that day.
In my journal, I'd written: It's okay. He's the Alpha. He carries more weight than I do. I understand.
The second entry was about the wolf marrow donation.
That time, I miscarried. The pack healer said it was an irreversible reaction caused by forced extraction. I lay in the recovery pod staring at the flickering ceiling lights, feeling completely hollowed out.
He'd signed the consent form from outside the room. Quickly. Without hesitation.
Even though I was numb from losing the pup, I still wrote in my journal: He must be hurting too. He's just not good at expressing it.
Then there was the night the pack got attacked. A rival pack breached our borders. The defensive line was torn apart. That night, the Alpha who was supposed to be on guard duty vanished. No one could reach him. Every signal cut off. I tried reaching him through our mate bond over and over—nothing.
I stood alone on the wall and held the pack line all night, leading the pack through sheer willpower. I was critically injured and unconscious for three days. When I finally woke up, he still wasn't there.
He came back a month later and said: "You did a good job."
So I wrote in my journal again: This is a Luna's duty. I still didn't do enough. Maybe he had something else he had to handle.
There were so many more entries after that. The first gift I picked out for him. Our first mating anniversary. The trip we'd planned to the Northern Snowlands. Then the cancellations. The broken promises. Being left behind again and again.
But every single time, I made excuses for him in my journal: He's busy. He's under pressure. I'm being too sensitive.
I stepped off the last stair and stood in the shadows of the living room, watching him flip through my journal. He moved fast, no pauses, like he was skimming a pack report that had nothing to do with him.
Finally, he closed it. The black cover reflected the cold light. He looked up at me, and instinctively, I searched his expression for something—guilt, pain, anything.
Nothing. Just boredom. And barely concealed irritation.
"What's the point of showing me this?" he asked coldly. "You trying to guilt-trip me?"
I didn't answer.
Darius let out a sharp laugh and tossed the journal onto the coffee table. "You've always done this stuff anyway. What's the point of bringing it up now?"
The journal hit the table with a soft thud. Just like all those years of my devotion—tossed aside like it weighed nothing.
"Pathetic," he muttered.
His voice was emotionless. Dismissive. Like an adult wolf watching a pup play pretend and finding it utterly meaningless.
In that moment, I finally understood something—even if he knew everything, it wouldn't matter. None of it ever mattered to him. It never had.
I looked at him calmly and added, word by word: "December 31st, 2025. Clear skies. I was drugged with suppressants and taken to the operating table. Second wolf marrow extraction. Second miscarriage. The wolf who drugged me—Darius. My Alpha mate."
The fire in the hearth flickered, then dimmed. His eyes darkened with it. He finally spoke, his tone losing just a fraction of that Alpha arrogance. "Thalia... we can have another one. Tomorrow's my mom's birthday. Get ready. I'll pick you up."
I watched his back as he left, thinking silently to myself: There won't be a next one.
I was still holding my phone. And finally, I answered the question I'd been avoiding this whole time.
"Thalia, once you enter the Wolf Protection Program, all contact with your past will be severed for a minimum of ten years. Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," I said clearly.
The agent didn't hesitate. "Understood. We'll erase your scent records and wipe your identity from the pack registry. You'll become someone else. You'll live somewhere no Alpha can ever find you. Welcome to your new life. We'll send someone to pick you up in three days."
Three days. That's all I had left. In three days, I'd vanish from Blackmoor territory completely.
Chapter 2
I didn't sleep well that night.
Not because I was heartbroken—that feeling had been worn down long ago in the pack's medical pod, stripped away bit by bit by those silver mesh barriers.
I couldn't sleep because my mind was too awake.
So awake that even rolling over in bed felt like a calculated move.
Three days. No—two days now.
I had to act normal. Just like I always had. I couldn't suddenly get weird or cold. I couldn't skip the pack banquet, and I definitely couldn't blow off sucking up to Darius's mom—the former Luna, Margot Blackmoor.
I knew these wolves too well. In the Blackmoor Pack, the second you showed even a hint of "disobedience," it got flagged as abnormal behavior. And any abnormality? The Council of Elders would blow it up into a full-blown risk. And risks only had one outcome—control, interrogation, and total loss of control over your own life.
I couldn't let them destroy my escape plan.
So I got up, washed my face, changed clothes. Every movement sharp and efficient, like I was executing a cold mission.
The old me would've started preparing a week in advance.
Picking out gifts, choosing jewelry, finding a dress fancy and refined enough to make me "worthy" of standing next to the Alpha.
I'd even practice my smile in the mirror—not too harsh, or I'd look arrogant; not too soft, or I'd look spineless. I'd think: What flowers does the former Luna like? What are the Elders buzzing about lately? What wine would make them happy? What can I say to make Margot roll her eyes one less time?
But today? I didn't think about any of that.
I treated myself like what I actually was now—someone whose scent records were about to be wiped, someone who'd vanish from this pack in two days. I wasn't going to waste another ounce of energy on Darius. Or his mother, for that matter.
That she-wolf had sized me up the very first day I married into this pack, evaluating my worth like I was livestock. She loved saying, "Remember your place, Thalia. You're just the Luna. Without my son, you're nothing."
She especially loved reminding people of her own accomplishments—former Luna, the woman who once stood beside the former Alpha; former Luna, who gave everything for the pack; former Luna, who deserved respect.
And me? The current Luna? I was just a freebie tacked onto a contract. An extra. Useless.
Even though I'd successfully protected this pack time and time again.
I fastened the last button and left the room.
Darius had already texted saying he was waiting in the car. I took a deep breath and walked out.
Just as I reached for the door handle—
I heard Darius's voice inside the car.
Soft. Gentle. The kind of tone I'd never gotten from him. Not once.
"I know," he said. "I'll remind her."
A pause. Then he added with what sounded like a smile, "You're very thoughtful."
My fingers froze on the handle, cold as if they'd been sliced by silver wire.
I didn't even need to look at the screen to know who was on the other end. I glanced at the terminal on the center console anyway. The contact name was exactly what I expected—Sel, followed by a tiny crescent moon symbol.
A mark. A declaration. A reminder—she was the one who should've been standing beside Darius as Luna.
Darius hung up and turned to look at me. He seemed to notice my hesitation but didn't explain. He just flipped the terminal facedown casually, as if that sliver of tenderness had never existed.
"Get in," he said flatly.
I got into the backseat and shut the door. The car filled with his Alpha scent right away—thick and suffocating.
Silence stretched between us for a long time.
I thought it'd be like always—he'd drive me to the pack banquet, put me where I was supposed to be, show me off for a bit, then take me back to the pack house once he was done using me.
But then he spoke.
"How have you been… lately?"
He paused, like he was picking his words carefully.
"How's your body holding up?"
I froze.
The question didn't sound like him at all. It almost sounded like… concern.
Some tiny, pathetic corner of my heart instinctively stirred—like a starving pup hearing the sound of food.
Then his earlier words echoed in my head: You're very thoughtful.
My stomach twisted with nausea.
I realized it then—even this so-called concern was probably Selene's doing. After she'd forcibly extracted my marrow and killed my pup, she still had the audacity to use my mate to perform this pathetic charade of charity.
It was a declaration—my Alpha would always belong to her.
Ridiculous. This man could negotiate billion-dollar blood pact deals, hold the Council in check, stabilize border supply lines—but he needed another woman to remind him that I could feel pain too.
"I'm fine," I replied flatly.
Darius caught the coldness in my tone. He hesitated, then tried again—almost sounding like he actually meant it this time.
"Don't touch cold water for now. Silver suppressant residue will slow your recovery."
I didn't respond.
"And avoid anything irritating—cold food, spicy food, all of that."
He hesitated before adding, "No intense physical activity either." He sounded serious. Like a responsible Alpha mate taking proper care of his Luna.
I almost laughed out loud.
I thought back to the night he'd slipped suppressants into my food without a word. The hollow emptiness in my stomach when I woke up—the pain like someone had ripped my soul clean out of me. The way he'd signed that consent form outside the medical room—quick, decisive, not a single moment of hesitation.
If he'd ever actually cared, how could things have ended up like this?
"I'll keep an eye on the pack's defenses," Darius said. "You just rest up."
I ignored his hollow concern and closed my eyes, signaling that I was tired.
I could feel my indifference unsettling him—his gaze lingered on me longer than it ever had before.
Then he started the car.
I smiled faintly to myself.
Two days left.
And then I'd be gone for good.
Chapter 3
The pack hall lights were blindingly bright.
Moonstone chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, cutting the light into a bunch of tiny glittering pieces that scattered across the floor, the wine glasses, and every carefully made-up face.
The air smelled like spices, alcohol, and wolf pheromones all mixed together—familiar, but so suffocating.
I walked in beside Darius.
And immediately spotted the woman standing front and center, right next to his mother.
Selene.
She wore a pale-colored dress, perfectly tailored, chatting and laughing with Margot like they were littermates. The scene looked effortlessly natural—like she was the real Luna of this pack.
And me? Just some rogue who'd wandered in by mistake.
Margot noticed me first. Her gaze shifted from Selene to me—cold and judgmental, like she was looking at a piece of worthless trash.
"You made it," she said flatly. "Don't look too happy about it."
Selene turned to face me, a smile curling at the corner of her lips—the kind that could almost be called gentle, like she was trying to soften Margot's harshness.
But her words cut just as deep.
"Thalia," she said softly. "You look… a little tired today."
Margot let out a cold laugh, not bothering to hide her disdain.
"She's always like this. Her pheromones are weak and unstable. Standing next to my Alpha son like that, wolves are gonna think the Blackmoor bloodline's gone to shit."
Someone in the hall snickered quietly. Not kindly.
I clenched my claws slightly at my sides.
"I was against choosing her as Luna from the start," Margot continued, stating it like an obvious fact. "Bloodline's not pure enough. Strength's not strong enough. Turns out I was right to worry."
Selene sighed softly, as if she genuinely pitied me.
"Margot, don't say that," she said gently. "Thalia wasn't always like this."
She was right. I wasn't always like this.
Before the first wolf marrow extraction, my power had been stable. My bloodline pure. My aura strong enough to dominate other she-wolves of the same rank. Back then, I could stand alone on the wall and hold off an invading pack.
But now? I had to consciously control my breathing just to keep people from seeing how weak I'd become.
"Before?" Margot scoffed. "What good is 'before'?"
Her eyes were sharp as knives.
"What's standing here now is a Luna who can't even protect herself."
"My son is an Alpha," she went on. "The mate he needs is someone who can stabilize the pack's bloodline, strengthen the pack's power—not some—"
She paused deliberately, her gaze dropping to my flat stomach.
"Woman who can't even carry a pup to term."
The entire hall went silent.
I could hear my wolf screaming inside me.
Two pups. I'd lost two pups.
My vision blurred. The lights stretched into streaks. Everything went blurry. My body trembled, but I forced myself to stay standing.
The pack hall remained quiet.
Finally, Darius spoke.
"There's no rush."
Of course there wasn't—not for him.
Both my pups were gone because of him.
I looked up at him, eyes burning red. Darius met my gaze and froze for a second, instinctively stepping toward me—
Then his mother blocked him.
"No rush?" Margot turned to Selene, her expression softening instantly. "Perfect timing, then."
She gently patted Selene's hand.
"Since Thalia can't have pups, let Selene do it."
Someone in the hall gasped audibly.
And me? I went completely rigid.
"After all," Margot continued slowly, her eyes drifting down to Selene's stomach, "she's already carrying one."
The pack stopped.
All sound, all stares, all breath—
Gone.
So that's how it was.
The last bit of self-deception shattered completely.
I used to think maybe they were just close. I'd even been naive enough to believe they hadn't crossed that line.
But now I understood.
All those nights together. All those times he was "too busy" when I wasn't around—how could there not have been something?
And I'd actually made excuses for him.
Pathetic.
I took a slow breath, forcing my voice steady.
"In that case," I said, "we should sever the mate bond."
The entire hall erupted.
Darius whipped around to face me.
"What did you just say?" His voice finally wavered. "I never agreed to this—I never even—"
"Never betrayed me?" I looked at him, suddenly feeling exhausted.
He didn't finish.
Because Selene suddenly grabbed his arm tightly.
"Darius…" Her voice was thin, on the verge of tears. "My stomach hurts."
Her face went pale all at once.
Darius's attention snapped to her immediately.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a tone I'd never heard from him before—anxious, worried.
He didn't spare me another glance.
The next second, he bent down and scooped Selene into his arms.
"I'm taking her upstairs."
And then he just turned and left.
Whispers erupted throughout the pack hall.
I stood there, unmoving.
Margot walked up to me, looking down with undisguised mockery in her eyes.
"See?" she said quietly. "My son doesn't care about you at all."
She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. "If you know what's good for you—leave. Now."
I watched their figures disappear around the staircase, my chest hollow and empty.
Then I smiled.
"I will," I said.
