Chapter 4

I woke up under fluorescent lights that hummed like insects.

My body felt emptied out. Not just of blood—of meaning.

The healer’s face hovered above me, expression tight. “You shouldn’t have been walking.”

“I had to,” I said, voice cracked.

She glanced away for a fraction of a second, and I understood before she confirmed it.

“It’s gone,” she said softly. “Your body couldn’t hold on.”

I stared at the ceiling. The grief was there, deep and old, but it didn’t explode. It settled like ash.

Because grief wasn’t new.

The healer adjusted the drip and lowered her voice. “Your mate-link… I can’t sense it.”

“I can,” I whispered.

Or rather—I couldn’t.

I reached instinctively for Walter’s presence and found nothing. No pull. No heat. No thread.

Only emptiness.

The healer’s eyes sharpened. “He severed you completely.”

I nodded once. “The ninety-ninth.”

Her mouth tightened. “That’s… forbidden.”

“Not for an Alpha,” I said. “Not if he calls it ‘necessary.’”

When she left, I sat up slowly, every movement punished. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and looked down at my hands.

There was no tremor from the bond now. No involuntary craving. No forced awareness of Walter’s mood.

I should have felt relief.

I felt clarity.

I asked for paper. I signed the petition. I filed the dissolution request through the clinic’s secure channel to the Elder Council.

Then I dressed—slowly, carefully—like a woman putting on armor after the battle has already been lost.

I returned to the den by evening.

The guards at the gate looked confused. “Luna—”

“Not for long,” I said.

Inside, everything was exactly as I’d left it, and yet it felt like a museum of a life I no longer wanted.

I went room to room and took only what was mine. Clothes. Books. The small knife my mother had given me. The silver ring that marked me as North Ridge’s Luna.

I left the ring on Walter’s desk.

Beside it, I placed the severance agreement.

On the final page, I wrote in clear ink: Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine.

Proof. Not drama. Evidence.

Then I took my phone and typed one message.

I didn’t add emojis. I didn’t threaten. I didn’t beg.

Just truth.

“The ninety-ninth time. We’re done.”

I stared at the words for a second, thumb hovering.

Then I added the only instruction he deserved:

“Come home and sign the severance agreement.”

Send.

The screen went blank.

And for the first time since Walter had bitten my neck and claimed me as his Luna, I realized something with terrifying calm:

There was no invisible cord tying me to him anymore.

If I walked out that door, he couldn’t pull me back.

So I walked.

As I crossed the threshold, the mountain air hit my lungs sharp and clean.

My abdomen ached. My throat burned.

But the silence in my mind—the absence of Walter—was louder than any pain.

Behind me, the den waited like an empty mouth.

Ahead, the road disappeared into night.

I didn’t know where I’d end up.

I only knew I would not end up back in his arms.

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