Silence followed. When he finally spoke, there was a bitter edge to his words. “Help? After all these years of silence? After choosing Ethan over me?”
The guilt was immediate. “I made mistakes… I know. I thought I knew what I wanted.”
He scoffed. “Mistakes, huh? I offered you everything, Ivy—mateship, love, a future. And you ran toward the first wolf who sweet-talked you into believing he could give you more.”
“I thought he would learn to love me,” I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded. “I thought I made the right choice.”
“And now you see the truth,” he snapped. “What do you want from me?”
“I’m leaving him,” I said quietly. “But I need time. There are things I have to handle before I go.”
Vincent paused, his voice lowering. “You have two weeks. After that, if you’re not free from him, I will come and take what’s mine.”
Then the line went dead.
I let the phone slip from my hand, the dial tone humming in my ears. Vincent’s words clung to me like a second skin. His possessiveness hadn’t changed—but neither had his desire to protect me. I didn’t know whether that comforted me… or frightened me.
That night, sleep never came. I drifted through the Luna quarters like a ghost, fingers trailing along polished wood and velvet curtains. I found myself opening drawers and pulling out gifts Ethan had given me over the years.
A ruby necklace. Beautiful, expensive… but impersonal. I always preferred emeralds, the color of nature and healing.
An orange handbag. Vibrant, bold—Farah’s style, not mine. I preferred soft sage greens, muted earth tones.
A golden bracelet, elegant but cold. Silver felt more like me—softer, quieter, but stronger in its own way.
It was all so clear now. Even in the things he gave me, Ethan had never really seen me.
When dawn broke, I heard the front door creak open. Ethan walked in, rumpled and exhausted. The scent of another woman clung to him like a curse. Farah.
His eyes scanned the items laid out on the table. “What’s all this?”
“Just things I no longer need,” I replied, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “Perhaps Farah would appreciate them. They seem more her taste.”
He didn’t respond. No anger. No concern. Just a slight nod, like I’d offered him nothing more than spare clothes to donate. The indifference in his eyes was worse than rage.
Suddenly, a crash echoed through the room.