The Alpha's outcast

I’ve always known where I stood in this family. From the moment my sister Freya and I were brought into the Norman pack’s home, the distinction was made clear. Freya was their miracle child, the one who, by some cosmic twist of fate, resembled their lost biological daughter. They lavished her with love and paraded her as the Norman family's rightful heir, their precious second chance. And me? I was just… there. They didn’t say it outright, but the way they treated me spoke louder than words. To the outside world, I was the adopted stray they took pity on. I was the extra, the mistake, the shadow that always lingered behind Freya's dazzling light. I thought I had grown used to it. The subtle digs, the indifferent gazes, the way everyone—from my so-called parents to the pack members—acted like I didn’t matter. But tonight, as I sat at the dining table, I realized it still stung. “Aria,” Freya’s voice sliced through the awkward silence like a blade. Her tone was saccharine, but her words dripped with condescension. “Do you even care about this family? We’ve been waiting for you for hours, and you waltz in here as if nothing happened.” I lifted my gaze to meet hers, forcing my expression to remain neutral. “I’m sorry I’m late.” Freya smirked, the kind of smirk that made my blood boil. She thrived on these moments—moments where she could paint me as the careless, disrespectful sister while she played the role of the perfect daughter. “You’re always like this,” she continued, feigning exasperation. “I don’t know how you can be so thoughtless, especially to Mom and Dad. Have you no respect for them?” I didn’t respond. There was no point. Arguing with Freya was like trying to howl at the moon and expecting it to howl back. Dave, ever the knight in shining armor, stepped in to defend her. “Don’t be upset, Freya. Aria didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t argue with her.” His words were like a dagger to my chest, twisting and tearing at my already fragile composure. He didn’t even glance at me—his focus was entirely on her. It wasn’t the first time. I’d seen the messages. Hundreds of them, hidden away in a private account he thought I’d never find. Messages filled with declarations of love for Freya, with promises to protect her, to always be there for her. Messages that painted a picture of a life they were building together—without me. The betrayal cut deeper than I thought possible. Dave wasn’t just my mate; he was supposed to be my partner, my other half, the one who would stand by my side against the world. Instead, he had been plotting a future with my sister, the very person who had spent her life ensuring I stayed in her shadow. “Aria,” my father’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. His tone was curt, as always. “Sit down. You should be grateful to have someone like Dave by your side. He’s done so much for this family.” I clenched my jaw, biting back the urge to lash out. Grateful? For what? For a mate who spent more time holding my sister’s hand under the table than he did looking at me? For a family that treated me like a guest in my own home? But I swallowed my pride and obeyed. As I sat down, my gaze flickered to Dave. He was smiling, basking in the praise of my parents. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. His hand, subtly reaching under the table to clasp Freya’s. The lump in my throat threatened to choke me. I wanted to scream, to confront them both, to demand answers. But I didn’t. Instead, I forced myself to pick up my fork and take a bite of the meal in front of me. Soon. That word became my anchor, the only thing keeping me grounded. Soon, I would be free of this place, of these people who had done nothing but suffocate me. The ship would be ready in a few days, and then I could disappear, leaving them to their perfect little lives. --- The next morning, Dave woke me with a kiss. His lips brushed against mine, and I flinched, pulling away instinctively. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with faux concern. I forced a smile, trying to mask the disgust bubbling beneath the surface. “Nothing. Just startled, that’s all.” His smile returned, bright and carefree. “Don’t forget, we’re supposed to go try on wedding outfits today. Only a week left until the big day!” I nodded numbly, the reality of the situation sinking in. A week. That was all the time I had left before I became his wife in name only. Dave leaned in, wrapping his arms around me. “I can’t wait to call you my wife. I’ve been dreaming of this day for so long.” I felt bile rise in my throat. Dreaming of what? Marrying me, or using me as a stepping stone to stay close to Freya? But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I let him hold me, counting the seconds until I could pull away. --- As the day wore on, the weight of the situation pressed down on me. Every moment with Dave felt like a reminder of his betrayal, of the lies he had spun so effortlessly. And Freya? She was everywhere. Every detail of the wedding seemed designed to revolve around her. The colors she liked, the flowers she preferred, even the music—it was as if I didn’t exist. But that was nothing new. From the moment we were adopted, Freya had made it clear that there wasn’t room for two daughters in this family. She sabotaged me at every turn, framing me for things I didn’t do, twisting every situation to make herself look better. And my parents believed her every time. As I stood in front of the mirror that evening, staring at the dress Dave had picked for me, a thought struck me. Why had I spent so long trying to please people who didn’t care about me? I turned away from the mirror, my resolve hardening. In a week, they would all get the surprise of their lives. I wasn’t going to stand in Freya’s shadow anymore. I was going to step into the light—and leave them all behind.

As I stared at Dave’s smiling face, I wondered if his happiness was genuine or a carefully crafted illusion. Was he truly excited about marrying me, or did the sight of my sister, Freya, light up his world in ways I never could? The faint scent of betrayal clung to the air, mingling with his otherwise familiar musk—a sharp reminder that something wasn’t right. When I arrived at the pack seamstress’ shop, my stomach churned. The scene waiting for me confirmed my worst fears. Freya, my sister in name but my rival in spirit, stood before the mirror draped in my Luna gown. The shimmering silver threads caught the light, casting an ethereal glow around her. It was meant to be a symbol of my union with the future Alpha, Dave, and my ascension to Luna of the Crescent Moon Pack. Instead, it looked like Freya was already claiming the title. She twirled, her golden hair catching the light, a radiant smile on her face. Every inch of her screamed perfection. But to me, she was poison wrapped in silk. Dave stood beside her, his amber eyes glowing faintly. The bond between mates should have tied his gaze to me, but his attention was wholly focused on Freya. “Wow, Freya,” he said, his voice laced with awe. “You look breathtaking.” Freya let out a soft laugh, her voice melodic and sweet. “Oh, Dave, I just wanted to see how it felt. This dress is magnificent. It feels like it was made for me.” I stepped forward, my claws instinctively extending ever so slightly beneath my skin. I clenched my fists, reigning in my wolf. She stirred uneasily, her instincts screaming to assert dominance, but I forced her back down. “Have you worn it long enough?” I asked, my voice cold and clipped. “Take it off.” Freya turned toward me, her emerald eyes widening in mock surprise. “Aria, I didn’t realize you’d be upset. I was just trying it on. You know I’ve always looked up to you.” Her words dripped with false innocence. She knew exactly what she was doing. Dave stepped forward, his presence looming, though his expression remained calm. “It’s not a big deal, Aria,” he said, his voice soft and placating. “She’s your sister. It’s her first time trying it on. You should be more understanding.” Understanding. That word rang hollow in my ears. I turned my gaze to him, my wolf surging forward momentarily. He flinched ever so slightly as my eyes flickered with the golden hue of my wolf’s presence. “You don’t understand what this dress means to me,” I said, my voice low and steady. But I didn’t want to argue—not here, not now. I shifted my focus back to Freya, who stood there with her head tilted in mock submission. She had always been good at pretending to yield while stealing everything I worked for. “You can have it,” I said flatly, turning on my heel. Freya blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Wait, really?” she asked, her tone laced with disbelief. Without answering, I walked out of the shop, my wolf snarling in my chest. --- Dave caught up with me outside, grabbing my wrist. His touch, once comforting, now felt suffocating. “Aria, wait,” he said, his voice full of concern. “What’s wrong? Are you angry? Don’t be upset, darling. It’s just a dress. I’ll—” I pulled my hand free, my claws itching to extend. “I’m fine,” I said, cutting him off. “Go back and finish with the seamstress. You can choose whatever dress you like.” His brows furrowed, but the moment passed quickly. A smile spread across his face. “I knew you’d understand,” he said. I watched as he returned to the shop, his steps light, his focus already back on Freya. My stomach churned, but I forced myself to remain calm. As I turned to leave, I caught one last glimpse of them through the window. Dave leaned close to Freya, whispering something that made her laugh. The sight made my wolf snarl, a deep growl rumbling in my chest. I took a deep breath, forcing her down. Soon, I reminded myself. Soon, this will all be over. --- That evening, as I sat in my room, the glow of my phone illuminated Freya’s latest post. A photo of her in my Luna gown stared back at me. The caption read: “This dress feels like it was made for me. I can’t wait for my turn to shine.” Beneath the post were dozens of comments from pack members. “Freya, you look stunning! Are you next in line for a mating ceremony?” “Such a perfect fit! You’d make a wonderful Luna someday.” My claws extended, slicing through the soft wood of my bedside table. She wasn’t just stealing my dress—she was planting the idea in the pack’s mind that she was the rightful Luna. My wolf stirred again, furious and restless. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, she growled. But I knew better than to lash out now. Timing was everything. The night of the full moon was approaching, and with it, the perfect opportunity to sever every tie that bound me to this pack and these people. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. For now, I would wait. And when the moment came, I would make them regret underestimating me.

The moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting thin silver lines across the wooden floor. I stared blankly at the ceiling, my body heavy with exhaustion. The weight in my chest pressed down harder than usual tonight. Dave was in the bathroom, the sound of running water muffled by the closed door. I should have been asleep, but how could I? Every breath felt like it scraped against my ribs. Then, the faint buzz of a phone broke through the quiet. I turned my head slowly toward the sound. Dave's phone lit up on the nightstand, casting a soft glow in the dark room. I wasn't the type to invade privacy, and Dave knew that. He had always counted on me to trust him without question. But tonight... something in me cracked. I shifted carefully, making sure the sheets didn’t rustle, and reached for his phone. The screen still glowed, the preview of a message hanging in the air like a warning. "My Luna " The contact name froze me in place. No. Not "Luna" in the way a pack honors its Alpha female. This was personal. Intimate. My thumb hovered over the message. One more breath, and I tapped it open. Images loaded slowly, but the second I saw them, my breath caught in my throat. Clara. Dressed in silk and lace, sprawled across a bed that wasn’t hers. Her lips curled in a playful smirk, eyes half-lidded in that practiced, seductive way. "Come to me, love. I need you tonight." I nearly dropped the phone. My stomach turned, bile creeping up my throat. The wedding was days away, and here they were, baring their betrayal like it was nothing. I wanted to scream. To break the phone, to confront him, to tear this entire room apart. But the weight of it all pressed me down. The bathroom door creaked open. I quickly set the phone back on the nightstand, rolling over to face the wall, feigning sleep. Dave stepped out, toweling off his hair, the scent of mint and pine soap lingering behind him. He paused, his eyes scanning me for any sign that I was awake. Satisfied, he reached for his phone. I listened to the faint taps of his fingers as he typed. "Can't tonight, babe. She's still up. Tomorrow?" Bile burned the back of my throat. Her reply was instant. "Don't be like that, Dave. I miss you. Remember how good we were last night?" I clenched the sheets in my fists, forcing my breathing to remain steady. His chuckle was low and soft. "Tomorrow, I promise. She’s dead asleep by then." Dead. That word sent a shiver down my spine. His footsteps moved closer to the bed. For a moment, I thought he'd lean in, maybe kiss my cheek like he used to. But he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed his keys from the dresser. He paused, then sent a message—this time to me. "Emergency at the packhouse. Gotta check on it. Get some rest, beautiful." Beautiful. How many times had he called Clara that tonight? The door clicked shut behind him. And I was alone. Utterly, devastatingly alone. I sat up slowly, the cold air biting at my skin. My hands trembled as they ran through my hair. This wasn’t just a one-time mistake. This had been happening—repeatedly, deliberately. The bond between mates was sacred. Breaking it wasn’t just betrayal; it was treason of the soul. I rose from the bed and crossed the room, every step feeling heavier than the last. The moon stared down at me through the window, full and brilliant. For once, it offered me no comfort. I reached for my coat draped over the chair. My fingers grazed the small silver dagger tucked into the pocket. It wasn’t meant for killing—it was ceremonial, a symbol of severance. And tonight, I intended to use it. Not on him. On the bond. But not yet. Not here. I needed to be far from this place when I cut the thread that bound me to Dave. Somewhere no one could stop me. Somewhere I could be free. I grabbed my bag, already packed for the day I knew would come. My escape wasn’t going to be tomorrow or next week. It was now. The Crescent Howl Pack wouldn’t miss me. Not the Alpha. Not the Luna. And certainly not Dave. But they’d feel my absence when it was too late to matter. And Clara… She could have him. Because when I returned, I wouldn’t come back as the quiet, obedient girl they cast aside. No. I’d come back as something far more dangerous. And they’d all regret the day they underestimated me.

I watched Dave’s figure disappear beyond the doorway, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if he could feel my eyes burning holes into his back. A bitter taste filled my mouth, something between regret and quiet rage. But I swallowed it down. What good would it do now? Lying in the cold, empty bed, I stared at the ceiling as silent tears slipped down my cheeks. The pain wasn't sharp anymore—it had dulled into a constant, gnawing ache. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood and whispered into the darkness, "Dave, you can have it all. I’m done fighting for scraps." Five days. That was all that stood between me and freedom. Five days until the cruise set sail. I rose before the sun, driven by a restless energy that wouldn't let me sleep. I needed to finalize the last of the preparations. Once the ship arrived, I’d board without a backward glance. Morocco was the first stop—a territory far beyond our pack’s reach, untouched by Crescent Howl influence. It was a place I had always dreamed of visiting, somewhere I could finally breathe without feeling the weight of expectations crushing me. Packing had been easy. I only took what mattered. The rest? Let them rot in this house filled with lies. Dave came home earlier than usual. His presence felt suffocating, like a predator lurking just beyond my line of sight. I was folding the last of my clothes when he appeared in the doorway, watching me with that same disarming smile he used to wear so easily. "Darling, you’re working too hard," he said, his tone soft, falsely warm. He stepped closer, gently taking my hand in his. "Once we’re married, you won’t need to lift a finger. I’ll handle everything. You just need to be happy." I stared at him, wondering how many times he’d rehearsed that line. Did he whisper the same sweet lies to my sister? I forced a small, tight-lipped smile and nodded slowly. Marry him? That was never going to happen. Looking at him now, all I felt was exhaustion. His smile didn’t reach his eyes anymore, but maybe it never had. Then his phone rang. His expression shifted subtly, a flicker of irritation before he masked it with a grin. "It’s from your family," he muttered, answering the call. The voice on the other end was sharp, commanding. No warmth, no courtesy. "Today is the meeting between our families to finalize the wedding details. You need to be there." A statement, not a request. I clenched my jaw. Of course, they wouldn’t ask. They never did. Dave hung up and gave me a look that was half-apology, half-dismissal. "We need to go." I didn’t argue. Not because I agreed, but because I was tired of pretending that my opinion mattered to anyone in that family. The restaurant they chose was nestled in the park, styled exactly how Clara liked it. Floral arrangements in soft pink hues, delicate lace tablecloths—it was her taste woven into every detail. It was supposed to be my engagement gathering, but Clara sat comfortably in the seat of honor, draped in a crimson cloak that shimmered against her pale skin. Dave's parents practically hovered around her, fawning like she was already part of the family. I stood at the edge of it all, like an outsider crashing someone else’s celebration. "Aria, if only you were as sweet and charming as Clara," Dave's mother sighed dramatically. "I always thought Dave should’ve ended up with someone like her. Such a blessing." Her words slid off me like rain against stone. I’d heard them before, disguised in softer tones. Now they didn’t bother with disguises. Clara leaned in, flashing a saccharine smile. "Oh, don’t say that. I’m sure Aria’s doing her best." She let out a soft, tinkling laugh. "But don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. That’s what sisters are for, right?" Her voice dripped with honey, but the venom underneath was unmistakable. Dave chuckled along, eyes lingering too long on her face. Not once did he glance at me. I stared at them—at all of them—and felt nothing. Not anger, not sadness. Just a hollow, widening emptiness. Once, Dave would have noticed my discomfort. Once, he would’ve found an excuse for us to leave early. Now he barely acknowledged I was there. The air was stifling. I barely touched my drink, my appetite long gone. Then, as if the universe mirrored my mood, rain began to pour outside. Clara stood gracefully, her gown flowing like liquid fire, and Dave was immediately at her side. Without hesitation, he draped his jacket over her shoulders, shielding her from the cold. He didn’t even glance at me. I watched them walk into the rain together, his arm around her waist, their heads close in quiet conversation. It was a gutting realization. They weren’t hiding anymore. They didn’t need to. The rest of the family filed out, laughing under umbrellas. I stood there alone, the soft hum of the restaurant fading around me. But this time, I didn’t cry. No. I was past tears. Let them have their moment. Let them bask in their stolen happiness. Because soon, I would be gone. And when the moon rose again, the girl they thought they could break would be nothing but a shadow on the wind. Let the storm come. I would be ready.

The rain poured harder, drumming against the pavement in a relentless rhythm. Dave shielded Clara beneath the umbrella, cradling her in his arms as if she were something fragile, precious. She curled into him like a cat seeking warmth, her delicate hands clutching his shirt. Dave didn’t seem to mind the rain soaking through his clothes, not as long as Clara remained dry and comfortable. He didn’t even glance back. I stood there, rooted to the spot, watching them move toward the car. A cold numbness spread through me. It was a scene I had witnessed before, long ago, during the early days when my heart beat only for him. I had once thought his arms were a safe place, his embrace something sacred. But even back then, it had been Clara he sheltered like this. The rain plastered my hair to my face, chilling me to the bone. My hands trembled—not from the cold, but from the realization that I had been blind for far too long. No. I wouldn’t stand there like a fool any longer. Clenching my fists, I forced my legs to move, cutting through the rain and sliding into the back seat of Dave’s car. The leather was cold against my skin, but I didn’t shiver. I simply stared out the window, the glass blurring with rivulets of rain. Dave finally returned, brushing water from his hair, and paused when he saw me. His expression flickered—surprise, maybe even guilt—but it quickly vanished behind that familiar mask. “Oh, Aria,” he said, his tone overly sweet, “Clara’s health is delicate. You know how easily she gets sick. I just wanted to make sure she was safe in the car. You’re not upset, are you?” He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to gauge my reaction. Then, realizing how cold and wet I was, he quickly added, “Darling, why didn’t you wait for me to help you in? I should’ve been more considerate.” His apology was smooth, practiced. I met his eyes and forced a thin smile. “It’s fine.” Those two words seemed to satisfy him. He let out a soft chuckle, shoulders relaxing. Of course, Dave believed me. I had never been the type to hold grudges, and he took comfort in that. But deep inside, whatever remained of my feelings for him had long since turned to ash. The drive back was suffocating. The car was filled with the sound of rain and silence. Neither of us spoke. He kept his eyes on the road, and I stared out the window, pretending the storm outside was louder than the storm inside me. When we finally reached the Norman estate, I moved like a ghost through the halls. I didn’t waste time. I gathered my belongings, folding clothes into a suitcase with mechanical precision. The room felt colder than usual, stripped of any warmth. On my dresser sat an old, worn diary—the only thing I left behind. Its pages were filled with memories of a girl who once believed in family, in love. Let them keep it. Let it be my last gift to the people who had raised me. As I dragged my suitcase toward the front door, Freya’s voice echoed behind me, sharp and cold. “Oh? So, you’re really leaving? Don’t expect us to come running if something happens to you. You’re on your own now.” I paused in the doorway, fingers tightening around the suitcase handle. Slowly, I turned back to look at her. Twenty years. Twenty years under this roof, and this was how it ended. I held her gaze, searching for any trace of warmth, of regret. There was none. “Not even a sliver of affection left, is there?” My voice was steady, almost too calm. I gave her a faint, humorless smile. “Goodbye, Mother.” Freya didn’t flinch. She just turned away, as if I were a shadow on the wall. And that was it. My farewell to the Norman Family. By the time I returned to the house I shared with Dave, the sky had darkened. The storm still lingered, distant thunder rumbling like a warning. Dave greeted me with a wide grin, holding up an elegant white garment. “Aria! Look at this. I picked it out myself. The wedding is a once-in-a-lifetime event, after all. You deserve the best.” Laid out before me were rows of pristine wedding dresses, each more elaborate than the last. I stared at them, my mind distant. It was all a performance to him now. An elaborate show. Dave’s eyes sparkled as he lifted one of the gowns toward me. “Here, try this one. I think it’s perfect for you!” I hesitated, fingers brushing over the fabric. No matter how beautiful these dresses were, none could compare to the one I had designed myself, the one I had dreamed of wearing. But dreams were for fools. Wordlessly, I took the dress and disappeared into the fitting room. The gown felt heavy against my skin, as if it carried the weight of every lie Dave had ever told me. When I stepped out, Dave wasn’t even paying attention. He was huddled in the corner, speaking in hushed tones on the phone. “I have to come now?” His voice was soft, careful. “But I’m with Aria, helping her choose a dress... Fine. I’ll be there soon.” He thought I couldn’t hear him. But I heard every word. Every damn word. And just like that, the fragile threads holding me together snapped. Let him go. Let them both think they’ve won. Because soon, none of this would matter. The full moon was coming. And with it, so was my reckoning.

Dave’s arms tightened around me, his breath brushing against my neck. "Darling, you look beautiful in anything," he murmured, his voice dripping with that familiar false affection. "There’s something urgent with the pack, so I might not be able to stay with you. Just pick whichever dress you like." The word pack clung to the air like smoke. A convenient excuse. I knew exactly where he was going—right into Clara's waiting arms. I didn’t argue. I didn’t question. I simply gave him a small nod, pretending to believe him. "Alright," I whispered. Satisfied, Dave placed a light kiss on my temple and grabbed his coat. The door shut behind him, and the house fell into an eerie silence, disturbed only by the distant howling of wolves beyond the woods. The air felt heavier now, the scent of rain and damp earth creeping in through the cracks of the window. I stood there, staring at the sea of white gowns spread across the room. Fine silks, shimmering beads, delicate lace—mockery draped on hangers. None of it mattered. These dresses meant nothing in a world where my mate had chosen another. "Maria," I called, my voice sharper than a wolf's fang. The housemaid appeared in the doorway, eyes downcast. "Yes, Luna?" That title made my stomach turn. I wasn’t his Luna—not truly. Not when his heart belonged to another. "Burn them." Her head snapped up, eyes wide in disbelief. "M-Miss?" "Burn every single one. Not a single thread remains." Maria paled but nodded, disappearing to carry out the order. As the flames roared in the fire pit outside, I watched the dresses curl and blacken. But it wasn’t just fabric being devoured. It was every lie, every whispered promise, every fleeting moment of warmth Dave had given me. The heat licked at my skin, but it couldn't melt the ice in my veins. Later that evening, I sat in the dim study, absentmindedly scrolling through my phone. A notification buzzed. Clara Norman posted a new story. Something primal stirred inside me, curiosity laced with a simmering rage. I opened it. Dave, standing beside Clara, draped his arm over her shoulders. In her hand, she clutched a luxury handbag, and that sickeningly sweet smile stretched across her face. "When your Alpha knows exactly what you love. #Spoiled #Forever" Alpha. The word was poison on my tongue. My wolf growled low in my chest, a warning. So this was what he left me for. Fine. Let them have it all. I pulled open the drawer and retrieved a velvet box. Inside was the folding fan I had commissioned myself. Not an ordinary fan, but one inscribed with protective runes and symbols passed down through wolf-blooded families. It was meant to shield me on my wedding day. Now? Now, it would be a perfect gift. If Clara wanted to steal everything from me, why not this too? I would leave it for them when I was gone. Let them uncover the true weight of what they’d taken. The front door creaked open. Dave’s scent hit me first—a blend of pine and iron—but it was different now, tainted. "Darling," he called, stepping in with a bag in his hand. "I brought roasted chestnuts for you." Some of them were already peeled. I stared at them, unmoving. Roasted chestnuts. Clara used to covet whatever I loved. She’d claimed my favorite foods, my friends, even the man fate had bound to me. I felt my wolf shift beneath my skin, restless and snarling. "I’m not hungry," I said coldly. Dave’s expression flickered with confusion before he quickly smoothed it over with a chuckle. "Come on, don’t be like that. I had something important with the pack today. You know I’d rather be here with you." Lies. I heard the truth in the hollow tone of his voice, smelled the deceit beneath his skin. I stepped away from his touch, my face expressionless. "It’s fine." Relief washed over him. He smiled, believing he had smoothed everything over, as always. He reached for my hand, his grip warm but meaningless. "The day after tomorrow is our wedding. The elders have arranged for a premarital checkup. I’ll stay with you tomorrow, I promise." His golden-brown eyes softened, searching mine for any flicker of love. I met his gaze steadily. "Alright." Let him believe in that lie. Tomorrow wouldn’t come the way he expected. The next morning, I rose as usual. Outside, the sky was heavy with clouds, and the scent of approaching rain stirred the wolves in the woods. My phone vibrated. Blackwater Cruise: Your custom cruise will arrive in two days. Prepare for boarding. I stared at the message, my wolf pacing restlessly beneath my skin. Two days. That was all I needed. I quickly silenced the notification as Dave entered the room, holding up a small pouch. "Guess what I got for our trip?" he said with a boyish grin. I didn’t answer. I didn’t care. Let him play his little game. Soon, everything he thought he had would crumble. And I would be gone—far beyond his reach.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow over the Norman estate. Shadows stretched long and thin across the marble floors as I moved silently through the house. Every step I took echoed in the hollow halls, but it didn’t matter anymore. By dawn, I would be gone. Dave’s scent lingered faintly in the air—pine and something darker, something primal. His absence was a hollow weight in the house. I glanced at my phone. No new messages. Of course not. Dave was with Clara. No doubt wrapped up in her lies and silken words. The servants moved quietly, not daring to question me as I packed the last of my things. They could sense the shift in me. Wolves always knew when a storm was coming. I lifted the velvet box that held the custom fan—the one I had once dreamed of carrying on my wedding day. The runes carved into its delicate frame shimmered faintly under the moonlight, a subtle pulse of ancient magic. Let them have it. It would be my parting gift. I placed it carefully on Dave’s bedside table. A warning. A curse. A blessing. I no longer cared which. My eyes drifted to our wedding photo on the wall, already framed and ready for display. His arm was draped around me in that picture, his smile radiant. But now, it only looked hollow. I turned away. There was nothing left for me here. As the clock neared midnight, I slipped out of the house. The night air was sharp, tinged with the earthy scent of damp soil and pine. Somewhere deep in the woods, a wolf howled—a long, mournful sound that rippled through the air. My wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin. Soon. Soon we would be free. The road to the docks was deserted, the world holding its breath in the quiet hours before dawn. My car cut through the darkness, headlights slicing through the mist. When I arrived, the ship loomed in the distance, a dark silhouette against the inky sky. The Blackwater Cruise. My escape. "Miss, you’re early," a crew member greeted me, eyes flicking to my luggage. "I couldn’t wait any longer," I replied coolly. He nodded, helping me aboard without question. The ship was massive, its polished decks gleaming under the moonlight. It was luxurious, yet there was something haunting about it—a ship destined for distant lands, carrying secrets far from prying eyes. Perfect. I stood at the railing, watching the dark water lap against the hull. The cool wind tugged at my hair, whispering promises of freedom. But even here, my senses stretched outward, instinctively searching. He doesn’t know. Dave wouldn’t realize I was gone until morning. I let out a slow breath, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders. But the peace was fleeting. Something was wrong. A scent—faint but familiar—drifted through the air. I turned sharply, eyes narrowing. It wasn’t Dave. But it was from the pack. A shadow moved near the dock. A figure cloaked in black. No. Two figures. My heart clenched. Had they followed me? Had Dave sensed something and sent someone after me? Or worse—had Clara? A low growl rumbled in my throat before I caught myself. No. I wouldn’t let them take this from me. I turned away from the rail, my footsteps silent on the deck. The ship's engines rumbled to life, a deep vibration that rolled through the metal beneath my feet. We were leaving. Let them watch. Let them see what it meant to lose something they thought they owned. By the time they realized, I would be far beyond their reach. Far beyond the pack. Far beyond Dave. And for the first time in years, I felt the sting of tears—not from pain, but from release. The ship groaned as it pulled away from the dock, carving through the black water. I was free. Or so I thought. Because somewhere in the distance, a howl cut through the night—low, deep, and impossibly close. My blood ran cold. That wasn’t any ordinary wolf. That was a warning. The past wasn’t finished with me yet.