Kael’s voice haunted her dreams.
Not the Kael she had known in the moonlit quiet, when he traced her collarbone and whispered promises of forever. No—this Kael wore his Alpha armor like second skin, eyes cold, voice clipped, saying the words that had broken her: “I choose her.”
Aria jolted awake, breath caught in her throat. The room was dark except for the sliver of light bleeding in through the fire escape window. The city murmured outside, distant and uncaring. She wasn’t in the packlands. She wasn’t in his bed. She wasn’t his anymore.
But part of him still lived inside her.
She reached for her belly, now beginning to firm just beneath her navel. It was subtle, but undeniable.
The bond may have shattered. But something deeper remained.
A knock startled her.
She sat upright, instinct sharp.
Zara poked her head in. “You’re up.”
Aria nodded, swallowing. “Bad dream.”
Zara stepped inside and handed her a paper cup of tea, steam curling upward. “Nightmares are loyal companions.”
Aria took the cup, warming her fingers. “How’d you sleep?”
Zara rolled her eyes. “Like a fugitive on a broken mattress.”
They both smiled faintly. The humor was dry, but necessary. In a life like this, laughter was a rebellion of its own.
Zara sat at the edge of the bed, pulling a folded newspaper from her coat. “You should see this.”
Aria blinked. “What is it?”
“Local werewolf gossip column. Someone’s leaking information from the inner territories. Look.”
Aria unfolded the paper. The section was small, a tucked-away column titled Howls in the Dark. She scanned the headlines—territory disputes, a rogue attack outside Greystone, a witch sighting near the southern marshes.
Then her eyes landed on the line that made her blood still.
Alpha Kael Draven was seen returning to council grounds alone, without his intended. Sources speculate trouble in paradise—and whispers of a broken bond have begun to circulate.
She read the line twice, three times, until it blurred.
“He returned alone,” she whispered.
Zara’s expression didn’t change. “It’s starting.”
“What is?”
“The cracks. He thought he could sever the bond and move on like nothing happened. But the council’s watching. So is the rest of the territory. Word spreads fast—especially when it smells like weakness.”
Aria stared at the printed words. Without his intended. That meant Selene hadn’t gone with him. Or maybe she had… and didn’t last.
Her chest tightened. Why does it matter?
Because some treacherous part of her still wanted him to regret it.
Still hoped he woke up at night wondering where she was. Wondering if she’d survived.
“He’s unraveling,” Zara added, softer now. “The pack knows something’s wrong. Even if they don’t know what.”
Aria folded the paper and placed it on the nightstand. “Good.”
Zara raised a brow. “You want him to suffer?”
“No.” Aria took a slow sip of her tea. “I want him to realize he let go of the only person who would have bled for him. I want him to feel the hole he left.”
Zara exhaled. “Then let’s keep you invisible a little longer. Until that hole swallows him whole.”
That afternoon, Aria ventured out alone for the first time.
Zara had insisted she stay close—no shifting, no wolf-specific clinics, no mention of anything remotely supernatural. But Aria needed air. Movement. Something to prove she was more than a shadow hiding from the man who had torn out her heart.
She wore a hoodie, her belly still small enough to go unnoticed. The streets were bustling—humans shouting into phones, children chasing each other across cracked sidewalks, old women arguing over fruit prices at the market stalls.
No one gave her a second glance.
She was no longer Luna.
She was just… a woman.
Free. Invisible. Unknown.
She ducked into a secondhand bookstore tucked between a laundromat and a pawn shop. The bell jingled as she entered, and the scent of dust and ink welcomed her like an old friend.
The shop was quiet, the kind of place where no one asked questions. She wandered the aisles, fingertips brushing faded spines. For a moment, she forgot the fear, the running, the weight of her unborn child.
Here, she could pretend to be someone else. A human. A student. A tourist.
But the illusion cracked when she reached the parenting section.
Her hand hovered over a battered paperback titled Raising a Child Alone.
She picked it up, turned it over, read the first few lines.
You don’t have to be fearless. You just have to show up.
Her throat tightened.
She bought the book with the last of her loose change and hurried back to the apartment before her courage could fail her.
That evening, the sun dipped low behind the rooftops, casting golden light across the floorboards. Zara lit a single candle, the soft glow dancing over their sparse belongings.
Aria sat on the bed, reading aloud from the book in a low voice. The words were mundane, comforting. Tips about sleep schedules, nutrition, emotional bonding.
Zara watched her quietly. “You’ll be good at this.”
Aria looked up. “You think?”
Zara nodded. “You already are.”
The candle flickered, and Aria smiled for the first time that day.
Later, after Zara fell asleep on the couch, Aria crept to the wardrobe and pulled out the sonogram.
She ran her fingers over the image. That tiny blur. That stubborn heartbeat.
She closed her eyes and pressed the picture to her chest.
“You’ll never be a secret,” she whispered. “Not to me. Not to the moon. And one day… not to him.”
She stood there for a long time, listening to the quiet pulse of the city, steady and alive.
Her child was safe. Her future unwritten.
And somewhere, Kael was beginning to feel her absence like a blade under his skin.
Good.
Let him bleed.
