“I want a divorce.”
Just like that, the words felll out of me easier than I thought they would. Maybe because deep down, I’ve wanted to say them for a long time.
Enzo’s halfway through buckling his belt. He freezes, blinking slowly. “What?”
“I said I want a divorce.”
His brow furrows, but it’s not hurt or confusion I see in his face. He looks insulted. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m dead serious.” I fold my arms. “This isn’t working for me and Bailey. It hasn’t been for a long time.”
Enzo laughs. “You want a divorce now? Just because Thalia’s here?”
I stare at him. “No. Not just because of her. Because you’ve never loved me and you always ignore our daughter. Do you think tossing money at us makes you a good father? And now, you bring your ex into our home like we don’t even exist.”
He steps closer. “I’m the Alpha. I don’t need to run my decisions by you.”
“You’re right. You don’t.” I look him straight in the eye. “And I don’t need to stay married to a man who treats me and our daughter like we’re nothing.”
His jaw tightens. “You’d really walk away? From this? From me?”
“I won't reject you,” I add quickly, holding my ground. “I wouldn’t do that. Not during the war. The pack needs its Alpha. I’d never do anything to weaken you. But I want to separate quietly.”
“And take my heir with you?” he snaps. “Don’t even think about it.”
Before I can answer, he grabs my wrist tightly that it hurts.
“What are you gonna do without me, huh?” he hisses. “You don’t have money. You don’t have a job. You can’t even make decisions without crying about it. I made you Luna. I gave you a title, a home, security. What else do you fucking want?”
I rip my arm free. I’m not changing my mind. “I want respect, Enzo! I want a husband who loves me! I want a father for my daughter who actually gives a damn!”
“Love,” he scoffs. “What a joke. You think that matters? You’ve gotten soft. This is the real world, Beatrice.”
“No,” I say through clenched teeth. “This is your world. And I’m done living in it.”
He suddenly grabs me by the arm again. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Let me go!”
“No. You think you can leave me? Take Bailey and run off like I’m nothing? I won’t let you.”
He drags me toward our bedroom. I push at his chest and yank my arms free. It’s no use. He’s too strong.
“You’re staying right here,” he growls. He shoves me inside my room and slams the door behind us. “You wanna act like a spoiled brat? Fine. Then you can stay in your room until you come to your senses.”
“Enzo!”
“You’re not seeing Bailey. Not until you get it through your head that you’re not in charge here.”
My heart stops. He can’t do this! What will happen to my pup if I’m stuck here? “No — no, please —”
He storms off and then locks the door.
“No!!” I pound the door so loudly my fists hurt. I scream his name, but no one comes. I don’t know how long I stand there before I slide down the wall and curl into myself.
This can’t be real.
For the next few days, I’m trapped. No matter how many times I knock on the door, no one answers.
Food gets left inside the door, but I barely touch it. I don’t sleep much. I cry when no one can hear me.
And the worst part? I don’t know how Bailey is. I don’t know what she’s being told or how she’s holding up. If she’s scared. If she thinks I abandoned her.
Every second I’m kept from her feels like torture.
I don’t know how long it lasts—I feel my mind slowly unraveling, but I force myself to stay conscious.
Then, one night, I hear the softest click. Someone is picking the lock. I sit up instantly, hope racing through my chest.
The door creaks open.
“Mommy?”
Bailey, my daughter.
I pull her into my arms like she might disappear if I let go.
“Oh baby—” I cry, holding her tight. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She shakes her head against my shoulder. “I’m okay. I missed you.”
“I missed you so much, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”
“I wanted to see you sooner,” she whispers. “But Daddy said no.”
I close my eyes. I can’t believe he put her in the middle of this.
I know that no matter what, we have to escape. Enzo is now someone I don't recognize at all. I never imagined he could be this heartless.
“I know,” I whisper back. “I’m here now, okay? I’m right here. I'm sorry, babe. I swear we will be okay.”
But just then, the door swings open. My heart tightens.
It’s Enzo.
BAILEYPeople always say kids don’t notice much — but they’re wrong.I notice everything.I notice how Mama smiles with her lips but not always with her eyes. I notice how she still braids my hair even when her fingers tremble from tiredness. I notice how she hides the receipts behind cookbooks and quietly skips the meat aisle at the market sometimes.I especially notice how tired she looks during training class.She says she loves working here with Gamma Aria, and I believe her. But I also see the dark circles under her eyes, the way she sits down slowly when no one’s watching, how she winces when she lifts the heavy bows during lessons.Today, her smile is softer than usual—more like a whisper than a laugh. I want to ask if she’s okay, but I don’t. She’s the grown-up. I’m just a kid. And I already know what she’ll say.“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just a little tired.”She always says that.And maybe it’s true. But that doesn’t make me feel better.After school, I sit on the steps near the
BEATRICEBut he shows up only for a moment—then he’s gone. For a second, I wonder if he was ever really there at all.Honestly, I don’t know what he’s thinking. Back when we saw each other as enemies, at least we were close enough to fight.But now, the distance feels colder. Emptier. Even if he helped me on the open day, I still can’t feel him.But I don’t want to dwell on it.I mean, I have my own life to live.I never thought flour under my nails would mean survival.My mornings start with training whistles, wooden bows, and eager young faces that are slowly warming up to me. My evenings? I trade the sound of arrows hitting targets for the scent of fresh bread and rising dough. It’s not glamorous, but it keeps me and Bailey afloat.The job at the training center is rewarding in its own way. The pups are no longer openly rude, at least. Some even greet me now. A few ask questions, laugh at my jokes, or seek help with form. I’m still not one of them, not entirely, but the walls are
BEATRICEThere’s a certain weight to a child’s stare—sharp, unfiltered, and unforgiving.The moment I walk into the training field with Gamma Aria, I feel it. The soft scoffs passed between tightly packed huddles of little Lycans. They might be young, but they’ve already learned to judge with their eyes.Today’s lesson is archery. And I should feel excited—I get to help teach, to prove I’m capable. But the moment Aria introduced me as her teaching assistant, I knew this wasn’t going to be easy.The nods are polite. The respect is not.I start the session anyway, doing my best to mask the nerves fluttering in my chest. I walk them through the basics—how to hold the bow, how to position their feet, how to breathe—but most of them won’t even look me in the eye. One girl yawns dramatically. Another boy stares pointedly at a tree, like it’s more interesting than anything I’m saying.Only Bailey sits up straight, hanging on my every word. She beams when I speak, nods earnestly, and even corr
BEATRICEMaxwell showing up at the open day means more than he knows.I still can’t quite believe it—he came. He walked across that school field, all polished shoes and royal presence, like it was the most normal thing in the world. And yet, it’s not normal. Not even close.Not when I know how much this could cost him.The other parents went silent the second he arrived. Teachers paused mid-sentence. Kids stood up straighter. But Bailey didn’t even flinch. She lit up the second she saw him and called out, "Uncle Maxwell!"The way he smiled back at her—like it was the most natural thing in the world—makes my chest tighten. He crouched down to her level, listening intently as she pulled him into our picnic blanket, insisting he try the food I made. I barely had time to react. One second it was just the two of us, the next, he was there beside us like he belonged.And in that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care about the stares. Or the whispers. Or the way some of the other moms clutc
BEATRICE I try not to fidget with the edge of the picnic blanket, but I can’t help it. My fingers keep twisting the fabric, over and over. Around us, the school’s field is filled with chattering families and colorful baskets. Kids laugh and chase each other while parents sip drinks and exchange knowing glances.They gather in groups, laughing as they trade bites of each other’s desserts. Bailey and I are the only ones sitting alone. Around us, there’s nothing but empty space, as if we carry some kind of plague no one dares to catch.We're the only werewolves. I knew this would happen. I told myself not to care. But it’s different being here—feeling the quiet separation. The way no one quite looks at us directly. The way their smiles drop half a second too soon. I don’t blame them. The tension between our kind runs deep, and we’re reminders of something most of them would rather forget. Still, it stings. Everywhere I look, I see both parents—dads passing napkins, moms pouring ju
BEATRICEI show up to Gamma Aria’s training sessions exactly on time every day, not a minute late.The moment I step onto the field, my nerves settle into a quiet determination. It’s hard work—really hard. Every stretch burns. Every drill leaves my limbs aching. And without Nyx—without my wolf—my stamina just isn’t what it used to be. I can feel it in my bones, how much weaker I am.But I don’t complain. Not once.I grit my teeth and power through every squat, sprint, and form correction. I take notes when I get home. I replay instructions in my head when I shower. I mimic stances in the mirror before bed.Because this chance is everything.I’m not going to waste it.And it turns out… Aria notices.“Starting next week,” she says one morning, tossing me a towel after a brutal agility run, “I want you assisting me in class.”I blink. “Wait—really?”“You’ve earned it,” she says simply. “I need a second pair of eyes. You’ll help lead warmups and manage the beginners while I handle evaluati
BEATRICEI hesitate for a long time.The house is quiet now, the only sound the soft rhythm of Bailey’s breathing from the next room. She finally drifted off after insisting on talking about every single dish I should bring to the picnic. Her list included fried dumplings, sweet rolls, and something she called “victory noodles,” which I’m still not sure how to interpret.But I’m not thinking about recipes right now. I’m standing near the window, fingers hovering over the edge of the sill, heart pounding. The moon’s low tonight, a sliver behind clouds.I close my eyes.Maxwell… can you hear me?It’s the first time I’ve ever tried to mind-link him. I wasn’t even sure it would work—not since I joined the pack, not since the ceremony.I hold my breath, already bracing for silence.Then his voice comes through.“Beatrice?”I flinch.His tone is even. Calm. But it hits me like a jolt anyway—deep and low, like it’s coming from inside my chest instead of my head.My heart skips.“Sorry to both
BEATRICEI see her before I hear her. A small figure near the fence, surrounded by other kids. One of them shoves her again.I’m already moving.My heart pounds as I rush across the schoolyard. The sounds sharpen as I get closer—laughter, teasing, that cruel edge children don’t even realize they carry.“Wild child,” one of them says and others all laugh.“Her mom’s a werewolf, so is her” another adds. “Savage people.”My chest tightens.Bailey’s fists are clenched at her sides, her eyes glossy but defiant.“I’m not a wild child!” she shouts, her little voice cracking at the edges. “I have my mom! And my mom is the most amazing person in the world!”Goddess.My heart aches. It cracks and swells at the same time.I reach her in two strides and drop to my knees, wrapping my arms around her protectively. She presses into me instantly, her whole body trembling.“That’s enough,” I snap, glaring at the kids. “Go! Now!”They scatter like startled birds, darting off in every direction. But I
BEATRICEI nod and smile, even though it takes everything in me to keep that smile in place.Disappointment rolls through me like a slow wave, bitter and familiar. I had hoped—stupidly, maybe—that today would be different. That I’d walk away with something solid. But I get it. I really do. I don’t have experience. I don’t have credentials. All I have is my word and the quiet, desperate fire in my chest that refuses to go out.“I understand,” I say, voice soft but steady.I start to stand, already forming the words in my head. Thank you for your time. I appreciate the opportunity. Maybe someday, if things change—But then, just as I turn to leave, Gamma Aria speaks again.“Would you be willing to train under me?”I freeze.I glance back slowly, unsure if I heard her right. “Train under you?”Aria nods, folding her hands neatly on the desk. “I think you have strong potential to learn. You’re intelligent, you’re steady, and you clearly care about the pups. You're a perfect choice. I’d be