Darrell’s entire demeanor shifted. Panic crossed his features, and without even glancing back at me, he bolted from the room to find Carla. He didn’t say another word. Not even goodbye.
With a heavy heart, I brought the gifts to the children and Elisha, doing my best to smile through the pain.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Elisha asked gently, her voice cracking slightly as she tried not to let the children hear.
“There’s nothing left for me here, Elisha,” I murmured, feeling the lump in my throat grow. “He’s made his choice. I can’t linger in the shadows of what we were.”
“What about the kids? They adore you, Debbie. And I... I don’t know how I’ll manage teaching them alone,” she said softly, her green eyes searching mine, filled with concern and sorrow.
“I’m getting married, Elisha,” I said, though the words felt strange, as if they belonged to someone else. “This place—it’s no longer home to me.”
“To whom?” she asked, her voice tinged with fragile hope. “Is he better than the Alpha?”
I hesitated, unsure how to respond. My wolf was quiet—something she rarely was—and her silence felt like confirmation that this was the path we needed to take. That leaving, painful as it was, was right.
“I pray he is,” I whispered, more to myself than to her. “I truly hope he is.”
Debbie's POV
I had already packed the essentials into my travel bag. It wasn’t a lot—just what I would need moving forward. I deliberately left behind all the clothes and jewelry Darrell had gifted me. I didn’t want to carry any remnants of him with me—neither his scent, his material tokens, nor the hollow promises that once warmed my heart but now made me feel sick.
My departure was set for five days from now. That gave me a small window—just enough time to bid farewell to the ones who truly mattered to me, especially the children.
I glanced once more at the collection of letters he had written to me before everything between us crumbled. At one time, those letters held meaning. Now? They were nothing but beautifully crafted lies etched in ink. Promises that were made only to be broken—something Darrell had become very good at.
One by one, I ripped the letters apart. The tearing sound brought a strange sense of satisfaction, as if each shred was lifting a burden off my chest. I was nearing the last few when his voice pierced the air—sharp, loud, and rattled with panic.
“What are you doing, Debbie?!”