I drifted through the streets, aimless, my mind a tangled mess of rage and despair. I had nowhere to go, no plan—only the suffocating realization that I no longer had a place in this world. I wasn’t the Alpha’s daughter anymore. I wasn’t Harland’s mate. I was just… Avery.
Eventually, my feet carried me back to the packhouse. The home I had once believed was mine. The place where I had built my life with Harland As I pushed open the door, the quiet unease in my chest twisted into something far worse.
And then I heard it.
Soft, breathy moans.
A sound that shattered whatever fragile hope I had left.
I stood motionless, my heart lodged in my throat. The unmistakable rhythm of bodies moving together, the laughter, the whispered words—Harland and Maureen. In our bed.
A voice I had once loved spoke, casual, smug. “You’re so much better than her,” Harland murmured. “Avery’s lifeless in bed, like a damn corpse.”
A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. The final piece of my shattered heart crumbled to dust.
Maureen giggled, voice dripping with satisfaction. “She was never meant to be yours, anyway. I belong here.”
My wolf howled in rage, demanding blood, demanding destruction. My nails dug into my palms as I fought the urge to let go. I couldn’t. Not yet.
I didn’t know how long they stayed tangled in my sheets, desecrating the last remnants of what I had believed was love. But eventually, Maureen left, and I turned to go, my steps heavy with the weight of finality.
The door creaked open behind me.
Harland stepped into the hallway, his expression as indifferent as ever. As if I were nothing more than an inconvenience.
“You’re here.” His tone was flat, almost bored. “I’m hungry. Go make me something.”
Something inside me snapped.
I didn’t move. I didn’t blink.
Without a word, I walked past him, gathering the framed photos that lined the shelves. Pictures of us. Memories I had once cherished. One by one, I collected them into a box.
Then, I took them outside.
The fire caught easily. Flames curled around the edges of the photographs, devouring the love I had once clung to. I watched as our past turned to ash, as every illusion I had built was reduced to nothing.
Harland stormed out, eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you doing?” His voice was sharp, commanding. “Are you deaf? I told you to cook.”