Chapter 4

The week in the ward passed in a silence like being sunk into an ice sea. Neil never came; not even the briefest message crossed my phone.

Maybe he didn’t know I had lost the child. Maybe he did—and simply didn’t care. I wasn’t surprised. That was his steady state.

I used to make endless excuses for him—he was blinded by Fawn, he carried the weight of being Alpha. But the thin veil of self-deception had been torn away. I wouldn’t pretend anymore.

The enforced week of recovery let my exhausted bloodline strength recover a little, and I checked out as soon as I was able.

Sometimes my fingertips would flick across the screen without meaning to, and Fawn’s carefully staged posts would appear. In every photo she was cradled by his pack like a little sun, the dining table piled with rare restorative foods and lavish gifts. Meanwhile I had been in the cold clinic, fetching my own hot water.

Most painful of all was the necklace—the moonstone he once swore he would place around my throat at the grandest moon ceremony, a symbol of Luna’s supreme honor—now glittered at Fawn’s slender neck, throwing off a light that chilled me to the bone.

Strangely, the lake of my heart did not stir. Only a hard, dead stillness remained.

I pushed open the door of that so-called “home” and found the same wreckage I’d left behind.

Broken porcelain scattered across the floor, dried blood gone dark brown. Neil had clearly not left Fawn’s side; perhaps he had never come back at all, and would never have known I’d lain in the clinic, brushing with death.

I began packing in silence—quick, decisive movements.

The framed photo of us—our symbol of union—went straight into the bin without hesitation.

The parchment of his feverish vows, once burning with promise, now read like mockery; I fed it into the fireplace and watched it curl into ash.

Finally, I pushed the ring from my finger. The cold metal bit through skin one last time. I set it gently on the glass coffee table.

This “territory” that had barely tolerated my fleeting fantasies snapped back into what it had always been: an empty, cold nest.

I pulled from my bag the pre-prepared agreement to dissolve our bond. I was about to contact him when the door opened. Neil had returned alone. I was finishing a call with headquarters, confirming my travel details.

“Ms. Kay, what time is your flight tomorrow afternoon?”

“Three p.m. tomorrow.” I answered calmly.

Seeing him come in, I ended the call. He frowned; his golden wolf-eyes held the familiar puzzled look. “Three p.m.? Is that… for a clinic follow-up?” I lowered my phone and met his gaze with evenness. “It’s for a job transfer, not a check-up.”

He held a food container in his hand. He met my eyes, offering it with a tone that tried to pass as conciliatory—almost charitable. “Kay, I’m sorry. Fawn’s bloodline has been unstable again and I couldn’t leave. I brought you bone broth—something to restore your strength.”

I didn’t take it. The faint smell seeping from the lid, that gamey tang, made my stomach roll. After all these years as mates, he still couldn’t remember that I loathed that scent. Ridiculous—but I had no energy left even to point it out.

“And—” he seemed to remember something else. He produced a soft, faintly shimmering dress from his bag. “This is Fawn’s favorite moon-silk dress. The fabric is delicate; don’t use any water magic on it—handwash only. You’ll have to do it carefully tonight.”

Listening to these presumptions from a man who had become both familiar and foreign, a cold dizziness washed over me.

Was he always this cruel? Or had blind love made me marry a wolf who never truly held me? I clenched my jaw and swallowed the rising nausea. “Put it down there.” I said.

“I’m just going to grab a change of clothes and go back to the clinic,” he said, and moved toward the bedroom.

I took the agreement and followed, voice flat and steady as if reporting something about someone else. “Neil, I’ve cleared the mortgage on the territory core with my savings. Sign here and the dissolution will be complete.”

He seemed already halfway back at Fawn’s bedside; he barely registered the document’s meaning. He took the pen, scrawled his name carelessly, his eyes never lingering on the title.

After watching him hurry off with the bag of things for Fawn, I immediately changed my flight. Same destination—just two hours earlier.

I placed the removed ring, the signed dissolution agreement, and the cold certificate from the pack healer proving the pup’s stillbirth—three items—side by side in the most conspicuous spot on the coffee table. This would be the last, whole truth I left him.

Between us, it was over. Moonlight as witness: from now on the mountains are high and the rivers long—I am Kay, and I belong only to myself.