Chapter 4

I tear through my room, rummaging for anything worth saving, anything I don’t want Rosalina’s hands on when she finally claims what’s mine. Drawers slam, shelves are emptied, papers scatter. My heart pounds with every second wasted—and I’m running out of time.

I need to find a way out.

Some escape, any escape.

But no matter how hard I try, the memories won’t let me breathe.

I know exactly what’s coming—the slow, excruciating descent into hell. I know how Rosalina will smile, will whisper lies, how she’ll turn the pack against me, one by one, until there’s no one left on my side. Until I’m discarded.

First, I’ll be moved to my office—a bed hastily thrown on the couch, no longer fit to sleep under the same roof as my mates. Then, when she takes the Luna title, they’ll relegate me to a broom closet, clearing it out “just for now.” But they never will find somewhere better.

And when I’ve lost everything—my title, my name, my dignity—she’ll frame me. She’ll weep and scream that I tried to kill her, and they’ll believe her, like they always do.

I’ll die in front of them all—Lucian and Damian standing over me, the same men who swore to protect me, pulling the trigger themselves.

My hands shake as I shove a box under the bed, desperate for a plan.

I tried to leave once. Tried to vanish into the human world, start over, live small until the chaos blew over. But they found me—Lucian and Damian dragged me back, eyes cold, voices filled with hollow regret. “It’s what our mother would’ve wanted,” they said, throwing her will in my face.

I’d always thought of that will as a gift, a protection. I never realized it was a curse. Something they’d use to chain me to this place, to them, until I had nothing left.

There’s no easy way out.

Not this time.

As I rake my mind for any solution, a memory crashes into me, unexpected and sharp, like a knife drawn across old scars.

Three years ago, a few days after Rosalina took my room, the Moonlit Pack hosted a gathering—a celebration of power and influence, inviting the most dominant packs in the region. As one of the top five, it was our duty to host, to display strength, to forge alliances.

The mansion was glittering with wealth, filled with Alphas and their entourages. Rosalina was paraded through the crowd, a gleaming jewel they flaunted to the world—our prize, they called her.

But someone else was there.

A man in a deep red suit. He stood at the edge of the room, alone, half in shadow. His gaze never left me. While everyone else circled Rosalina, he watched me, dark eyes gleaming with amusement—or something else. I remember the way he held himself: calm, self-assured, dangerous. Power radiated off him, raw and magnetic.

I’d tried to ask who he was, tried to place his pack. No one knew. By the time I asked around, he’d vanished, as if he’d never been there.

Why now?

Why does this memory come back when I need answers—not ghosts?

He couldn’t help me. No one could. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he didn’t matter. Not against the might of the Moonlit Pack. Not against Lucian and Damian, who would drag me back no matter where I ran.

I sigh, dropping heavily onto the edge of the bed, frustration burning hot in my throat.

There has to be a way out.

There has to be.

Daylight bleeds away, golden rays slipping beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the pack house. In the past, I waited—believing Damian or Lucian would come, that they’d find me before nightfall, reassure me, tell me everything would be alright.

They never came.

From the very first night, they chose her.

Rosalina.

So this time, I don’t wait. I won’t sit in the dark, hoping for scraps of affection.

I finish gathering my things in silence, tucking them carefully into the box—a lifeline I won’t let go of. When the house falls silent, the halls empty and heavy with sleep, I slip through the shadows to my office.

The box slides beneath my desk, hidden in a place it won’t be stolen in this lifetime. Inside: memories, crucial documents, my phone, my laptop—everything I can’t afford to lose again.

I pause by the window, eyes drifting over the moonlit gardens and dark forest beyond. The scent of pine and earth drifts on the breeze. I know the patrol routes by heart—three teams on the borders tonight, Dorothee leading one of them.

Inside me, Corneille stirs, her pain sharp and restless. She lets out a soft howl, a mournful cry echoing through my chest.

She wants out.

She wants to run, escape, scream.

I rest my palm over my heart.

I know, Corneille. I know.

The first time we lost them, the pain nearly killed us both. But pain forged us into something harder, sharper. Now, we know better than to love blindly. Now, we guard our hearts with iron and flame.

I wish I could let her run. Let her feel the wind, the earth beneath our paws. But it’s too risky. Too dangerous. At this hour, I’d be easy prey, even within our own borders.

I was never the strongest wolf.

Strong-willed. Clever. Calculating. But physically? Even River, Dorothee’s wolf, could pin Corneille in seconds. I’ve never won a fight with brute strength.

But I’ve won.

Because I fight smart.

I use the terrain, the chaos, the weakness in others’ confidence. Not the most impressive in training, maybe. But in real battles, it’s kept me alive.

It will again.

I turn back towards my desk, ready to start strategizing again on how to escape this hell.

“Nara?”

I whip around, heart leaping.

Someone’s here.