My hand went limp. The stone slipped from my fingers and hit the ground. My vision blurred, shaking with a fury that felt more wolf than human.
I didn’t shift. I didn’t scream. I simply… burned.
Lyssa. Brexon. Every wolf who watched and stayed silent. They would pay.
Levan studied me carefully. “If we torch this, you vanish. There’s no returning to Silvermoon.”
I stared at the spark flickering in his hand. “I left that pack the moment they let my pup die.”
He tossed the spark into the cart. Flames exploded upward, devouring cloth, wood, and the body meant to become me. Heat clawed at my skin as I stepped back, watching the false Arwen turn to ash.
The patrolling warriors would eventually find the wreckage. Their reports would go straight to the Gammas and Deltas, and soon enough, word would reach Brexon—he would hear of his former Luna’s fiery death while sitting in his office. He would remain unmoved, showing not even a flicker of emotion, exactly as I expected.
But he was never the reason I did any of this.
I did it for myself. For Nyra. To reclaim every piece of my life I had wasted loving an Alpha who was never worthy of my devotion.
I left by dawn.
Levan led me through rogue borders, slipping me between patrols until no Silvermoon could sniff me out.
A new identity. A new mask. But inside?
I was still Arwen. Still the Luna who lost everything. Still the one who would make them pay.
In a grimy inn deep within neutral lands, I stared at my reflection in a cracked mirror. I ran my hand through my newly dyed midnight hair. Brexon used to bury his fingers in my golden curls, whispering forever.
That woman was dead.
“It’s hell from here on,” I muttered.
The world believed Arwen of the Silvermoon Howlers had perished in flames.
But the creature rising in her place?
She was only getting started.
