2

By the time I reached our “no”, “his” residence, my legs felt like they were made of damp paper.

I pushed open the bedroom door out of habit.

And froze.

I used to love this room. Not because it was luxurious though it was but because Asher and I had chosen everything together. The charcoal sheets. The moonlit-gray curtains. The carved wooden dresser where he used to leave me stupid little notes when we were younger.

Now it all felt foreign, like stepping into a stranger’s life.

My bag lay on the floor where I had dropped it earlier that morning, back before everything broke. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and knelt, forcing myself to pack mechanically.

I was folding the last shirt when the door creaked open.

Lyra stepped inside without knocking.

Of course.

She leaned against the frame, her posture casual, like she hadn’t just helped tear my world apart. Her hair still draped perfectly over her freshly marked neck, and despite pretending to look concerned, she didn’t bother hiding the pride shimmering in her eyes.

“Packing already?” she asked, her tone falsely gentle. “That was fast.”

“Get out,” I said without looking at her.

She clicked her tongue. “No need to be rude.”

My fingers tightened around the shirt in my hands. “I’m not in the mood for your games.”

“I’m just making sure you’re okay,” she sighed, stepping deeper into the room. “This must be so… hard for you.”

I turned sharply. “You think I don’t know you’ve been eyeing that Luna title since we were kids?”

Her lips curved. “Well, someone had to be realistic. Your bloodline is pretty… diluted.”

Before I could respond, heavy footsteps approached.

Asher.

He entered behind her, looking far too composed for someone who had just committed an illegal double mark out of desperation.

“Sophia.” His voice held a warning, but also something else annoyance, frustration, maybe guilt, though it was hard to tell anymore. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

He ignored that. “I told you: marking Lyra was political. It was meant to appease the elders. You know how strict they’ve become.”

I zipped my duffel sharply. “So instead of telling them the truth, you gave them something worse?”

Lyra interjected, stepping protectively closer to him. “It’s not like he wanted to. The North needs a Luna with strong lineage. That’s just reality.”

“You mean “you” need it,” I shot back. “You’ve always wanted what wasn’t yours.”

Her eyes flashed.

Asher exhaled through his nose, that frustrated sound he used to make when training with me. “Sophia, this is exactly why the pack is talking. You’re too emotional. Too reactive.”

I froze.

“So that’s the rumor then?” I said quietly. “That I’m unfit to be Luna?”

“Asher,” I whispered, “I stood by you through everything. Through every challenge. Every doubt. And you let them call me unfit?”

He straightened, Alpha authority coating his voice. “You need to leave the Northern territory until things calm down. That’s an order.”

Lyra’s smile twitched. Victorious.

I stared at him as if seeing him clearly for the first time.

He was cold. Calculating. A leader who cared more about optics than loyalty.

“Three days,” he continued. “The rumors will die down once you’re gone.”

“And the Sundering?” I asked quietly.

His jaw clenched. “You won’t go through with it.”

“You don’t get to decide that anymore.”

“Sophia”

“No.” I swallowed, the words raw but clean. “I see you now. Both of you.”

Lyra stiffened as I turned toward her.

“You mark my mate, my fated mate and then you stand here acting like the victim? You, who’s lied to the elders, manipulated them with your angelic little act? You’re not pure. You’re just good at pretending.”

She flushed with anger, but Asher stopped her from lunging.

His eyes locked with mine, unreadable. “Three days. Pack your things. Leave quietly.”

Silence stretched, suffocating and final.

I slung the duffel over my shoulder, pushing past them both.

“Don’t worry,” I murmured. “I’ll be gone long before then.”

As I brushed past Asher, the bond tugged painfully like a wire pulled too tight. He inhaled sharply as if he felt it too, but neither of us stopped.

I left the bedroom without looking back.

It wasn’t mine anymore.

Neither was he.