Chapter 4
That night, Alaric came home at 2:00 AM.
His scent carried the unmistakable sweetness of her skin—jasmine and summer peach. His thoughts hummed: *"Vanessa's glowing. That pup changes everything. I'll figure out how to tell Nora... eventually. Not now."*
He slid into bed beside me. Pulled me to his chest.
"Missed you," he murmured.
I kept my breathing slow. Feigned sleep.
His phone buzzed beneath his pillow.
His mind flickered: *"V wants to announce at the pack gathering next month. Need to manage the transition. Nora won't fight it—she's too gentle."*
Too gentle.
The phrase branded itself into my memory.
---
Morning light broke through the curtains. Twenty-four hours.
Alaric sat at the breakfast table, eyeing the velvet box with a boyish grin.
"Is this what I think it is?"
"Tomorrow," I reminded him. "You promised."
He pouted—actually pouted. Centuries-old Alpha wolf, pouting like a child on Christmas Eve.
"Fine. Rules are rules." He kissed my forehead. "I've got council meetings all day. Tomorrow evening, let's do something special. Just us."
"Perfect," I said.
He left.
His thoughts trailed behind him like perfume: *"Quick stop at Vanessa's before council. She said the morning sickness is bad. Twenty minutes."*
I watched his black SUV pull away.
Then I picked up my encrypted satellite phone—the one Sam had delivered yesterday.
"Status?" Sam's voice was clipped.
"On schedule. Tomorrow at dawn."
"Convoy arrives at 0500. Documents are ready. Once you board, your civilian identity ceases to exist. Nora Chen dies on paper."
"Understood."
"Last chance to reconsider."
I looked around the penthouse. Five years of memories.
The spot where he'd carried me over the threshold. The window seat where I'd read while he trained. The kitchen island where I'd waited, countless nights, for a husband who was between another woman's thighs.
"Nothing to reconsider."
I spent the afternoon in methodical silence.
Wiped my laptop. Destroyed the backup drives of my personal files. Shredded every photograph except my parents'.
At dusk, one final task.
I sat at the vanity and removed the mating necklace—a platinum chain with a moonstone pendant Alaric had clasped around my neck on our bonding night.
"This binds us beyond flesh," he'd said. "Wear it always."
I dropped it into the velvet box. Beside the ring. Beside the dissolution papers.
Then I sealed the box and set it on his pillow.
A text pinged my phone.
Vanessa:
*"He stayed three hours today. Couldn't keep his hands off me. Your bed must be cold tonight, barren Luna. Don't worry—I'll keep him warm."*
Attached: a photo. Alaric asleep, bare-chested, in sheets that weren't ours.
I typed back:
*"He's all yours. Take good care of him."*
Send.
Then I powered down the phone.
Set it on the counter.
And felt—for the first time in years—the ghost of something stirring deep behind my ribs.
Not grief.
Not rage.
Something older. Wilder. Waking.
My wolf?
No. Something more.
---
His scent carried the unmistakable sweetness of her skin—jasmine and summer peach. His thoughts hummed: *"Vanessa's glowing. That pup changes everything. I'll figure out how to tell Nora... eventually. Not now."*
He slid into bed beside me. Pulled me to his chest.
"Missed you," he murmured.
I kept my breathing slow. Feigned sleep.
His phone buzzed beneath his pillow.
His mind flickered: *"V wants to announce at the pack gathering next month. Need to manage the transition. Nora won't fight it—she's too gentle."*
Too gentle.
The phrase branded itself into my memory.
---
Morning light broke through the curtains. Twenty-four hours.
Alaric sat at the breakfast table, eyeing the velvet box with a boyish grin.
"Is this what I think it is?"
"Tomorrow," I reminded him. "You promised."
He pouted—actually pouted. Centuries-old Alpha wolf, pouting like a child on Christmas Eve.
"Fine. Rules are rules." He kissed my forehead. "I've got council meetings all day. Tomorrow evening, let's do something special. Just us."
"Perfect," I said.
He left.
His thoughts trailed behind him like perfume: *"Quick stop at Vanessa's before council. She said the morning sickness is bad. Twenty minutes."*
I watched his black SUV pull away.
Then I picked up my encrypted satellite phone—the one Sam had delivered yesterday.
"Status?" Sam's voice was clipped.
"On schedule. Tomorrow at dawn."
"Convoy arrives at 0500. Documents are ready. Once you board, your civilian identity ceases to exist. Nora Chen dies on paper."
"Understood."
"Last chance to reconsider."
I looked around the penthouse. Five years of memories.
The spot where he'd carried me over the threshold. The window seat where I'd read while he trained. The kitchen island where I'd waited, countless nights, for a husband who was between another woman's thighs.
"Nothing to reconsider."
I spent the afternoon in methodical silence.
Wiped my laptop. Destroyed the backup drives of my personal files. Shredded every photograph except my parents'.
At dusk, one final task.
I sat at the vanity and removed the mating necklace—a platinum chain with a moonstone pendant Alaric had clasped around my neck on our bonding night.
"This binds us beyond flesh," he'd said. "Wear it always."
I dropped it into the velvet box. Beside the ring. Beside the dissolution papers.
Then I sealed the box and set it on his pillow.
A text pinged my phone.
Vanessa:
*"He stayed three hours today. Couldn't keep his hands off me. Your bed must be cold tonight, barren Luna. Don't worry—I'll keep him warm."*
Attached: a photo. Alaric asleep, bare-chested, in sheets that weren't ours.
I typed back:
*"He's all yours. Take good care of him."*
Send.
Then I powered down the phone.
Set it on the counter.
And felt—for the first time in years—the ghost of something stirring deep behind my ribs.
Not grief.
Not rage.
Something older. Wilder. Waking.
My wolf?
No. Something more.
---