Chapter 8.

Kira's POV

The drive home after meeting with prince Damian and his mother is quiet, but my mind won’t stop racing. Damian’s cold words echo in my head, sharp and full of disgust.

'Don't fool yourself. This isn't some fairytale you get to live a happily ever after.'

Those words keeps circling back, clinging to me like a shadow. How could my own mate, fate chose for me couldn’t even hide his disappointment. He didn’t reject me, but he made it painfully clear that I wasn’t wanted. Instead, I’ve been ordered to work as a servant in his palace — as if I’m nothing more than an inconvenience to be managed.

I swallow hard, fighting back the tightness in my throat. It’s not like I expected him to welcome me with open arms, but… I didn’t think it would feel this awful.

I stare out the window, watching the trees blur past. Suddenly, my thoughts drift back to the hotel suite — not just to Damian’s cruel words, but to that wheelchair.

I remember seeing it once before back at the pack hospital when I was mopping the floors in the west wing of the hospital and tonight, I finally saw its owner — a man with long, unkempt hair and a beard that hid most of his face. He didn’t speak much but he left me wondering.

Who is he and why was he with prince Damian and his mother?

I shake the thought away. It doesn’t matter. Nothing about Crimson Crown matters yet — not the palace, not the man in the wheelchair, and certainly not Damian.

But as painful as tonight was, part of me feels… relieved.

I glance at Vivienne, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet. No smug smiles, no gloating about how her precious deal with Damian worked out. Just silence.

I don’t mind. I’m grateful for it.

Because for the first time in a long while, I’m leaving the place that’s made my life miserable and never gave me a chance to be anything more than their punching bag.

I don’t know what’s waiting for me in Damian’s palace, but whatever it is… it’s a fresh start.

And right now, I’ll take that over staying here — even if it means being nothing more than a servant.

***

The next morning, I toss a worn-out pair of jeans into my duffel bag, then fold my only decent sweater and tuck it beside it. My room — if you can even call it that — feels even smaller than usual as I move around, gathering the few things I own. The cracked walls and musty air feel suffocating, but soon I’ll be out of here.

Oh crap, I better tell Naomi I'm leaving before she starts wondering where I disappeared to.

I pause, closing my eyes and reaching out through the mind-link.

‘Naomi?’

‘Yeah?’ Her voice comes through, groggy and confused. ‘Its 5 in the morning. What’s wrong?’

‘I’m leaving the pack,’ I tell her, folding another shirt.

There’s a long pause before she finally responds. ‘Wait... what? What do you mean you’re leaving?’

‘I found my mate…’ I hesitate, unsure how to explain it without sounding pathetic. ‘It’s Prince Damian... but he doesn’t want me. So he’s taking me back to Crimson Crown to work as a servant in his palace.’

‘What the hell?!’ Naomi’s voice spikes through the link. ‘Are you serious? Why would you—’

‘I don’t have a choice, I cut in. 'He didn’t reject me, but he made it clear he’s not leaving me behind either.’

‘What the hell? This is all confusing and I need to hear it from your mouth. I’m coming over,’ Naomi says firmly. ‘Don’t leave without saying a proper goodbye.’

‘Okay, but come quick.’ I sigh, knowing there’s no point in arguing.

I finish packing the last of my things, zipping my bag shut just as I hear footsteps outside a few minutes later.... I hurry upstairs and spot Naomi climbing the porch steps.

“Hey,” I start to greet her, but then I notice my father — slumped in a crumpled heap near the door, a half-empty bottle resting beside him. His head hangs low, and his breath reeks of alcohol… This has been his daily routine for a year now and I honestly don't care because he doesn't care for me as well.

“Just ignore him,” I mutter, gripping Naomi’s arm and steering her inside before she can say anything.

We make our way down to my tiny basement room, and once we're inside, I close the door. Naomi barely manages to squeeze into the space before sinking onto the edge of my bed.

“Okay,” she says, crossing her arms. “Now explain.”

I sit beside her, my fingers twisting nervously in my lap. “It’s like I said... Prince Damian’s my mate. But he doesn’t want me.”

Naomi’s mouth drops open. “But he’s your mate. He can’t just... toss you aside like that!”

“Well, he’s not rejecting me either,” I mumble. “Instead, he’s making me work as a servant in his palace. Apparently, he will be paying Vivienne for my service.”

Naomi shakes her head in disbelief. “That’s insane. And Vivienne just agreed?”

“Of course she did,” I scoff bitterly. “As long as she's getting paid, she couldn’t care less.”

Naomi’s eyes narrow, her expression hardening. “I can’t believe this... You’re really going?”

I sigh. “What choice do I have?”

“You deserve better,” Naomi mutters.

I know, I want to say... but I don’t. Because right now, no matter how unfair it is, I know that walking away from this pack — from all the bullying, the neglect, and the constant feeling of being unwanted — is still better than staying here.

Even if it means being Damian’s servant… And thankfully Naomi understand and doesn't ask me to stay or protest Damian's decision.

After my conversation with Naomi, I walk her to the front door and as we step outside, my stomach sinks. Cassie, Lena, and Tara are leaning against their car, waiting like vultures.

What now? I sigh under my breath.

Cassie spots me and smirks, holding up my mother’s silver bracelet with a wolf charm dangling from it..

“Heey Kiki.” Cassie taunts, her voice dripping with smugness as she dangles it in the air.

My breath catches. I clutch Naomi’s arm, barely able to keep my emotions in check.

“I don’t have time for this,” I mutter, stepping forward with Naomi at my side.

“Oh, but you had time to ignore us,” Cassie sneers.

“Yes, and that's because I have a life too you know.” I snap back.

Cassie scoffs. “Yeah, well... guess that means we have to take this instead.” She jingles the bracelet in front of me like a toy.

“No you don't. Now, give it back,” I say, forcing my voice to stay calm.

“Why should I?” Cassie smirks. “Maybe I’ll keep it. It’s not like you deserve something this nice anyway.”

Before I can say anything, Naomi steps forward, her voice sharp.

“Cassie, give her the bracelet,” she demands, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Cassie arches a brow. “Or what Naomi?”

“Or I tell everyone what you three have been up to,” Naomi says coolly. “The boys? The things you did at Trent’s party last weekend?”

Cassie’s smirk falters. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would,” Naomi fires back. “And I’ll start with your parents. I’m sure they’d love to know why you’ve been sneaking out after curfew.”

Cassie’s fingers tighten around the bracelet. For a second, I think she’s going to keep fighting — but then she scowls and shoves the bracelet into my hand.

“Whatever,” she mutters. “It’s not even worth anything.”

I clutch the bracelet tightly, my fingers curling around the cool metal. For the first time in a long while, I feel like I’ve won something.

“Forget them,” Naomi mutters, steering me away.

We’re halfway to her car when the front door creaks open, and Vivienne steps outside with her usual smug expression.

“Kira, it’s time,” she announces, her gaze locking on me.

I glance down at the bracelet, then slip it onto my wrist. This is it. I'm finally leaving this awful pack to be with my mate even if I will be working for him.