Chapter 13
I materialized before him.
Not solid—translucent, glowing faintly with the remnants of my lunar essence.
But visible.
He saw me and his entire body jolted like he'd been electrified.
"Elara—"
He reached for me, stumbling forward, hands outstretched.
I stepped back.
His hands fell. His face crumbled, but he didn't advance again.
We stared at each other across three feet of dying watchtower.
This man. This Alpha. This mate who was supposed to be my whole world.
He looked destroyed. Barely human. Covered in blood—his own and others'. Eyes hollow, cheeks sunken, body failing.
He'd torn his world apart for me.
After I was already gone.
"Dominic," I said.
He flinched at the sound of my voice like it was both salvation and a knife.
"I watched you," I continued. "I watched everything."
He nodded, unable to speak.
"I watched you kill Serena. Kill James. Punish the wolves. Destroy your own pack." I paused. "And I felt nothing."
A sound left him—small, wounded.
"Not because I'm heartless," I said. "But because none of it gives me back what you took. Not my life. Not my wolf. Not the three years I spent loving you while you looked through me."
"I know," he whispered.
"You said you loved me. That you always loved me." My voice was calm. Empty. "But love doesn't look like what you did, Dominic. Love doesn't watch someone burn and think 'she'll be fine.' Love doesn't disconnect someone's life support because another woman cried."
He dropped to his knees.
"You're right. It wasn't love. It was ownership. I thought you were mine—unbreakable, unlosable. I took you for granted so completely that I forgot you were a person who could die." He looked up at me, devastated. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I don't deserve it."
"Good," I said. "Because you'll never have it."
He nodded, accepting it like a death sentence.
The tower shook again—violently this time. The floor beneath us cracked wide open, revealing the writhing horde below.
I looked at him one final time.
"Goodbye, Dominic."
And I reached into the bond-echo—that last thread connecting us—and ripped his Alpha core from his soul.
He screamed.
It was a sound beyond pain—beyond agony—the sound of a soul being torn in half.
He collapsed, convulsing, blood pouring from his eyes and nose and ears.
I held his core—golden, pulsing, the source of all his power—in my spectral hand.
And I crushed it.
His body went limp. His eyes, still open, still fixed on me, began to dim.
But he smiled.
Broken, bloodied, dying—he smiled at me.
"Thank you," he breathed. "For being... the last thing I see."
The tower collapsed.
Not solid—translucent, glowing faintly with the remnants of my lunar essence.
But visible.
He saw me and his entire body jolted like he'd been electrified.
"Elara—"
He reached for me, stumbling forward, hands outstretched.
I stepped back.
His hands fell. His face crumbled, but he didn't advance again.
We stared at each other across three feet of dying watchtower.
This man. This Alpha. This mate who was supposed to be my whole world.
He looked destroyed. Barely human. Covered in blood—his own and others'. Eyes hollow, cheeks sunken, body failing.
He'd torn his world apart for me.
After I was already gone.
"Dominic," I said.
He flinched at the sound of my voice like it was both salvation and a knife.
"I watched you," I continued. "I watched everything."
He nodded, unable to speak.
"I watched you kill Serena. Kill James. Punish the wolves. Destroy your own pack." I paused. "And I felt nothing."
A sound left him—small, wounded.
"Not because I'm heartless," I said. "But because none of it gives me back what you took. Not my life. Not my wolf. Not the three years I spent loving you while you looked through me."
"I know," he whispered.
"You said you loved me. That you always loved me." My voice was calm. Empty. "But love doesn't look like what you did, Dominic. Love doesn't watch someone burn and think 'she'll be fine.' Love doesn't disconnect someone's life support because another woman cried."
He dropped to his knees.
"You're right. It wasn't love. It was ownership. I thought you were mine—unbreakable, unlosable. I took you for granted so completely that I forgot you were a person who could die." He looked up at me, devastated. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I don't deserve it."
"Good," I said. "Because you'll never have it."
He nodded, accepting it like a death sentence.
The tower shook again—violently this time. The floor beneath us cracked wide open, revealing the writhing horde below.
I looked at him one final time.
"Goodbye, Dominic."
And I reached into the bond-echo—that last thread connecting us—and ripped his Alpha core from his soul.
He screamed.
It was a sound beyond pain—beyond agony—the sound of a soul being torn in half.
He collapsed, convulsing, blood pouring from his eyes and nose and ears.
I held his core—golden, pulsing, the source of all his power—in my spectral hand.
And I crushed it.
His body went limp. His eyes, still open, still fixed on me, began to dim.
But he smiled.
Broken, bloodied, dying—he smiled at me.
"Thank you," he breathed. "For being... the last thing I see."
The tower collapsed.