Chapter 4

I watched Willow complete that clumsy curtsy, and the air in my chest collapsed entirely.

The whispers around us grew louder—like needles piercing my body one by one.

"That fraudulent mother and daughter with their inferior blood—the Alpha finally pushed them aside himself."

"But look at the child's eyes—identical to the Alpha's."

Moiraine stepped forward gracefully, her voice sweet yet razor-sharp: "Please don't misunderstand, everyone. Willow is a child from a distant branch of the pack. Fenris and I have always treated her like our own daughter."

As she spoke, she smiled elegantly and bent down to pat Willow's head.

Willow stepped back slightly, panic flickering in her eyes. Instinctively, she looked up at Fenris.

He didn't move. He just lowered his gaze, as if she were a stranger's child.

Rage rose in my chest—hot but icy cold at the same time.

"Like your own daughter?" I looked up at Moiraine, my voice nearly breaking. "You don't deserve to say that."

Her expression didn't change. Her smile only grew softer. "Sienna, you're too emotional. Tonight is an important moment for the pack. Please be reasonable."

I stared at the engagement ring glinting on her finger and let out a cold laugh. "An important day for the pack? In your eyes, Willow and I were never part of this pack, were we?"

I crouched down and cupped Willow's tear-stained face in my hands. "Sweetheart, we're leaving. From today on, you're no longer a Thorne. Your name is Reed—your mother's name."

She nodded, too choked up to speak.

Patricia's voice rang out from behind us, angry and ice-cold: "Guards!"

I heard footsteps. Two guards approached, blocking my path.

Willow flinched, clutching my hand tight. "Don't touch my mommy!"

Fenris finally moved, as if to step forward. Moiraine immediately stopped him, whispering, "Don't make a scene. The whole pack is watching."

He stopped.

In that moment, I saw this man for exactly what he was—a coward who would always calculate his gains and losses.

"Still calculating?" I stood up, my voice eerily calm. "I have nothing left to lose."

I picked up Willow, pushed past the guards blocking my way, and strode toward the exit.

...

Back at our quarters with Willow in my arms, I kicked off my heels and walked barefoot into the living room. Everything was empty.

Willow leaned against the sofa, hugging her moonstone bunny plushie. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she had no tears left.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

I opened it to find one of the pack's servants holding an elegantly wrapped box.

"The Alpha asked me to deliver this," he said. "A birthday present for Willow."

I took the box and closed the door.

When Willow heard "birthday present," her eyes lit up for a moment. She jumped down from the sofa and ran over. "Is it from Daddy?"

I handed her the box.

She carefully unwrapped the paper and lifted the lid.

Inside was a collar, set with a large, jagged wolf fang.

Her small face went white.

"No..." She stumbled back a step in terror. The box slipped from her hands, and the wolf-fang collar hit the floor with a harsh clatter.

I crouched down and wrapped my arms around her. Her body was shaking in my embrace.

There was a card inside the box. I picked it up. It bore Fenris's handwriting:

"This is a birthday gift for Willow. What happened tonight wasn't intentional. I hope she won't take it to heart."

I stared at those lines, then laughed. It was a quiet laugh—cold as shattered ice hitting the floor.

Last year at a pack gathering, he was busy entertaining guests with Moiraine and left Willow alone in a corner. By the time I found her, a gang of young bullies had shifted into wolf form and cornered her against a wall, mocking her as a "Shadowclaw mongrel," baring their fangs until she was trembling all over.

For three whole months after that, she had nightmares every night.

And now the source of those nightmares had been sent to her as a gift.

I threw the card and the collar into the trash.

Then I walked into the storage room and, one by one, carried out every portrait I had painted of Fenris over the past seven years to the backyard.

The one on top was "Night of the Lunar Eclipse."

In the painting, Fenris lay among the canyon rocks, covered in blood, but gripping my hand tight. His eyes looked out beyond the canvas, full of gratitude and fire.

I once believed those eyes would always look at me that way.

I struck a match and tossed it into the pile.

The moment the flames erupted, they devoured those eyes first. The paint twisted and melted, his gaze crumbling bit by bit into charred ash.

"Mommy." Willow had come to stand beside me at some point. The firelight flickered across her small face. "The sky's getting light."

"Yes, sweetheart." I wiped the tear tracks from her cheeks. "When the sun comes up, we leave."

At four in the morning, we rolled our suitcases out of our quarters.

I took one last look at this house where I had lived for seven years—once the place I thought was home, now just an address to forget.

The airport terminal was nearly empty. I sat in a corner holding Willow and took out my phone.

My fingers hovered over the screen for a few seconds, then I quickly typed out a few words.