Chapter 19
(Logan’s POV)
The palace feels like a dream I can’t wake from—sharp-edged, distant, and colder than I remember. And Evelyn…she’s a storm I didn’t see coming.
It’s been days since I left the capital, and yet her voice still echoes in my head.
“The purpose of me getting close to you was to be tormented.”
Every word slices deeper than the last.
Now, back at the pack house, I should feel grounded. But I don’t. Not even close. The place feels wrong.
Quiet in all the wrong places. Empty where it once felt full.
I shrug off my jacket, toss it on the nearest chair, and head to the bathroom. The journey was long, and I needed to wash away the tension clawing at my shoulders. But when I swing open the door, I stop cold.
The tub is dry. There is no steam, no scent of lavender or pine bark oil, and no freshly drawn medicinal bath waiting for me.
I scowl and mindlink my Beta. “Where’s my bath?”
He sounds startled. “I-I’ll get the list. I thought Evelyn—” He trails off.
Exactly.
Evelyn always handled this. Without ever being asked.
A few minutes later, he hands me a little leather-bound notebook. I flip it open.
Inside is her handwriting. Page after page. All of it is about me.
Notes like:
“Add extra ginseng if he’s been gone more than three days, he likes the water warmer after patrols, or ‘He always sleeps better after clove oil.’
Every detail. Every preference. Every small thing I never noticed.
I find myself sitting on the edge of the tub, the book trembling slightly in my grip. The pages whisper things I should’ve known. Things I should’ve seen. But I didn’t.
Beneath the notes is something else—a folded sheet tucked into the spine. I pull it out.
Her journal.
Just a few entries. But they hit harder than any enemy has.
“He smiled today. Just for a second. That’s enough.”
“I made his favorite tea. He didn’t notice, but that’s okay.”
“If I can make his life just a little easier, it’s worth it.”
A sharp knock on the door startles me. A servant hands over my phone, which buzzes with a single message.
Evelyn: Sign the divorce papers. I’ve sent them over.
I stare at the screen. My heart goes still. The timing is equal parts savage as it is fitting. Divorce?
I type back fast, fingers moving before my brain can catch up.
Why now? You were the one who—
Blocked.
She blocked me, just like that. An Alpha is given a command. There was no room for negotiation, no space to think this out. Had she considered this? Had she known this entire time what this would mean for me?
Fury flares in my chest. My hand curls around the phone. And then I throw it. Hard. It hits the wall and shatters.
I strip down and climb into the bath once it’s finally ready, the heat sinking into my muscles, but doing nothing to ease the storm inside me.
I remember her eyes—how they used to light up when I walked into a room. The way she used to hold back, hoping I’d notice her effort.
And now?
Now she looks at me like I’m a stranger. Worse—like I’m the villain in her story.
My wolf growls inside me, restless.
Evelyn.
Her name is a curse and a prayer.
But I force myself to shut her out. I bury the thoughts.
The memories.
The day passes by, and I throw myself into training, ordering the Gamma warriors out for a midnight run.
They groan and complain, but I don’t care. I need movement. I need silence.
Maybe if I push my body hard enough, I’ll stop hearing her voice in my head.
The next morning, something tugs at me. An odd memory I can't ignore.
She said something about a birthday gift.
I spin on my heels and head to the room she used to stay in.
I haven’t opened the wardrobe since she left, but I’d hardly ever entered her chamber unless it was borne of necessity.
Dust clings to the wood, but inside, everything is neat. Of course it is. She always left things in order, even when I gave her chaos in return.
I spot the box almost immediately, tucked into the far corner. It is wrapped in dark blue paper with a silver ribbon.
My pack colors. I swallow hard.
The moment I open the lid, the scent hits me—hers.
Subtle and familiar.
Inside is a custom-made suit. Midnight black, tailored down to the smallest detail. I hold it up. The craftsmanship is exquisite.
Why did she never give it to me?
Something twists in my chest.
I try it on. It fits perfectly, like it was made for me. Which it was.
The door creaks open behind me. I glance up. Corina, one of the older servants, stands there, startled.
“You found it,” she says softly.
“Found what?” I ask, adjusting the sleeve.
“The suit. Miss Evelyn worked on it for weeks. Chose the fabric herself. Spent nights sewing it by hand. She wanted it to be special.”
My breath leaves me in a rush. This is the work of her own hands. I whirl around to meet the eyes of Corina. She is too old and too tired for this job, and I am too angry. “Did I summon you? I believe I shut this room down, this entire floor!”
“I apologize, Alpha,” she stammers, backing away. “She didn’t want you to know. She just wanted you to be happy and I..I was only bringing fresh linens, letting some air into—”
“You are dismissed!” I growl. “Do not tend these quarters again!”
She drops her head and retreats silently. In truth, I know it’s not her fault. The pain that sears throughout me is a consequence of my own to bear. But all the same, I am relieved to be left again to my own devices.
To my memories.
“I didn’t know…” I murmur.
My heart pounds.
What the hell did I do to her?
I remember the look in her eyes the last time we fought. Not just anger. Pain. A kind of heartbreak you don’t come back from.
I remember the look in her eyes at the healer's chamber, with Emma. The way she shot ten steps ahead.
The way she ran.
This entire time, I thought she was being manipulative. Calculated.
But what if… she was just tired of being invisible to me? Could she be blamed for that?
Corina quietly leaves, and I stand in the center of the room, wearing a gift I never thanked her for, a suit stitched together with love I never saw.
What kind of wolf am I?
I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. My wolf stirs, uneasy.
We hurt her.
I hurt her.
She waited up for me at night. Left gifts. Took care of me when I was too stubborn to take care of myself.
And I dismissed her.
Called her two-faced. Cold.
I buried my feelings because I thought I didn’t have time for them. But the truth is, I was just afraid.
Afraid that needing someone made me weak.
Now I’m starting to realize that pushing her away made me weaker than anything else ever could.
I glance at the shattered phone on the floor. At the journal. At the empty bed.
And for the first time in years, I feel completely and utterly alone.
