Chapter 3

The healer advised him to stay in the infirmary for a few days, but Shawn refused.

He left right after his wounds were dressed.

His beta, clearly worried, spoke up while driving.

"Shawn, you really should get a full check-up. Your wolf was seriously injured."

Shawn rubbed his temples and leaned back in the seat, his voice low.

"Who's handling the accident scene?"

"Gamma Dave," the beta replied quickly.

Shawn didn't respond. He simply closed his eyes, exhaustion washing over him like a wave.

When they arrived at his den — a grand mansion that stood like a silent fortress — the front doors opened automatically. One by one, the lights inside flicked on, illuminating the cold, elegant interior.

He walked in without a word.

I floated silently behind him, my soul drifting through the familiar halls, taking in every corner, every piece of furniture.

I couldn't help but sigh.

That poor wolf who once wasn't even welcomed by his own pack... is now the Lycan King.

"You can go now."

But his beta didn't back off.

"Shawn, your energy feels off. What happened? Did something go wrong at the alumni reunion?"

Those who had shared years of loyalty and battle with Shawn knew—though they rarely spoke of it—that he once had a bond that nearly broke him.

Back in werewolf school, the star of the pack was rejected by his destined mate.

When the bond snapped, his wolf went nearly feral, and Shawn… Shawn had collapsed under the weight of it.

For a whole year, he did nothing but drown in sorrow.

Now, the mere mention of that wound made his eyes flash with pain.

He turned to glare at his beta, and that one look was enough.

The beta fell silent immediately—and left without another word.

...

My soul stayed in his mansion the entire night.

While he rested, slouched on the sofa, I sat silently beside him, just staring at him.

But he couldn't feel me. He couldn't even catch my scent.

To him, I no longer existed—not in sound, not in presence.

He didn't even react to the calls from his mate.

He sat there the whole night, unmoving, until dawn broke and sunlight spilled into the room.

When he finally stirred, he checked his phone, sighed, and put it down without replying. Then he walked off to take a bath.

I was confused—why didn't he call his mate back?

After all, she had called him last night… She must've waited the whole night for a response.

But a moment later, it hit me.

Maybe… maybe he was afraid of waking her.

Later, when he returned to the packhouse, he buried himself in back-to-back meetings with leaders from different packs.

At noon, when he finally checked his phone again, a flood of notifications hit him like a wave.

Many of our alumni had seen the news about the accident and were messaging him, expressing concern.

As he was replying to one of them in the alumni group chat, the door opened—and Scarlet, his assistant, stepped inside.

"Your Majesty, you're scheduled to attend the territory summit in Seattle next month. Should I go ahead and book the flight now?"

His fingers, still hovering over the phone screen, froze mid-tap.

"Is there a flight to Paris before that?"

"Yes, the day after tomorrow. I already booked it in advance."

He slowly lifted his gaze, as if recalling something long buried.

"Which airline?"

Scarlet hesitated. Her eyes flickered with confusion, but she answered, "Shadow Airways, as usual."

Shawn paused. A long, loaded silence.

"Change it."

Scarlet blinked. "Do you mean... adjust the time?"

"No." His voice dropped an octave. "Change the airline."

She stood still, staring at the floor, her mouth slightly open.

"Which airline... do you prefer?"

He didn't answer immediately. I hovered beside him, holding my breath. His claws, now extended, were unconsciously dragging across the back of his phone—over and over again.

Finally, he spoke.

"FullMoon Airways."

Scarlet's eyes widened, but she quickly masked her expression and nodded.

"Understood. First-class ticket has been confirmed, Your Majesty."

Shawn didn't respond. He sat frozen in place, the shadows under his eyes darker than ever.

Then Scarlet left quietly without another word.

The office returned to silence, but I stood there, stunned, staring at him.

FullMoon Airways? The airline I worked for before I died?

Did he... want to see me?

My heart thudded violently, but I instinctively shook my head.

No. Impossible. Completely absurd.

If he really chose that airline because of me, then maybe—just maybe—he wanted to know how miserable I'd become.

Or worse… maybe he just wanted to humiliate me.

"Kendra, so this is what you've become? A lowly flight attendant, struggling just to survive? Where's your proud Alpha mate now?"

No.

He wouldn't say that.

He was always a gentleman in my memory.

Always.

But… I still remembered how I threw myself into another's arms—in front of him—ignoring the pained howl of his wolf.

I could see it all again:

His eyes, bloodshot with red threads of grief.

His wolf—furious, desperate—barking and refusing to break our bond.

So even if he cursed me, even if he looked at me with nothing but disdain—

I wouldn't blame him.

Not when I was the one who tore his soul apart.