Chapter 4 - Breaking Away

The act of packing felt both liberating and suffocating, a cruel contradiction churning in my stomach.

 Each item I touched, each fold I made, was a deliberate step away from the life I had known, a physical severing of ties. I moved methodically, folding each piece of clothing with practiced precision, my hands working faster than my mind could keep up, trying to outrun the rising tide of grief.

Every shirt, every pair of pants, every sweater went into the suitcase, except the ones Axel had loved, the ones that still carried the faintest whisper of his scent, even after so many days.

Those, I couldn’t bring myself to touch, let alone pack.

I left them neatly stacked on the bed, untouched, almost reverently placed, like remnants of a sacred life I was about to leave behind, too precious to discard, too painful to carry.

The pressure in my chest deepened with each item packed, a dull, aching force that threatened to expand and consume me. But I refused to let my emotions control me, refused to surrender to the despair that clawed at my throat.

This was survival. This was necessary.

Zipping the suitcase shut with a harsh, final sound, I inhaled deeply, trying to fill my lungs with something other than the stagnant air of grief. Then, with a resolve I didn't truly feel, I turned toward the door.

My parents were waiting downstairs, their silent anticipation a heavy cloak, and I knew I needed to say goodbye. The true goodbye, the one that meant leaving their watchful eyes and familiar comfort behind.

The walk through the house felt surreal, each step muffled, distant, as though my body was moving ahead while my soul lagged behind, unwilling to let go, clinging to every memory held within these walls. The familiar scent of my mother’s cooking, the faint lingering aroma of my father’s aftershave, the creak of the floorboards I had known my whole life, each sensation was a fresh ache.

And when I reached the doorway of the living room, my mother’s eyes were already glistening with unshed tears, her lower lip trembling almost imperceptibly. My father stood beside her, typically a mountain of stoicism, yet his jaw was clenched so tightly that I could see the muscles working beneath his skin, betraying the turmoil he held within.

"This isn’t forever," I assured them, the words a desperate plea more than a certainty, though my voice came out softer, more fragile than I had intended. It barely carried in the quiet space.

My mother, unable to hold back any longer, grasped my hands, her fingers squeezing them tightly, almost painfully. Her eyes pleaded with me.

"You take care of yourself, Anna. Please. Promise us you'll be safe."

"I will," I managed to choke out, my throat tight.

My father exhaled sharply, a sound that was half sigh, half groan, before he spoke, his voice steadier now, laced with a deep, unwavering love.

"You will always have a home here, Anna. Always remember that. No matter what." His gaze held mine, a silent anchor.

I nodded, unable to trust myself to speak, fearing that any sound would shatter the fragile composure I desperately clung to. One last embrace, a three-way hug that was lingering and filled with silent promises, unspoken fears, and the profound weight of saying goodbye without saying it aloud. Their arms tightened around me, a fleeting moment of protection before I walked away, the scent of their comfort already fading behind me.

The drive to the packhouse felt short, filled with the hum of the engine and the deafening silence of my own thoughts. The packhouse itself was imposing, just as it had always been, its grand stone façade standing tall against the darkening sky, a symbol of permanence and community. It usually felt like a beacon, but tonight, it seemed like a monument to my leaving.

Inside, Alpha Rick and Luna Catherine were waiting for me in their study for our farewells. They sat on opposite sides of a large, polished desk, their expressions solemn. They had known this moment was coming, of course, my parents had informed them immediately after our conversation. And yet, their faces held the same sorrow and understanding my parents had, a reflection of the pack’s collective grief and concern for me.

Alpha Rick folded his powerful arms across his chest, his presence commanding yet unexpectedly reassuring. His eyes, usually sharp and penetrating, were softer tonight. "You’re sure about this, Anna?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

I nodded, my gaze meeting his steadily.

"I need time. Away from the pack. From everything." My voice was flat, devoid of emotion, a deliberate choice to convey my resolve.

"You will always have a place here," he stated. "Your position as Head Warrior will remain vacant for the next ten years." He paused, his gaze searching mine, as if gauging my reaction.

"If, when, you are ready to return, it will be here waiting for you. No questions asked. Your courage and strength are too valuable to lose."

I swallowed hard, caught completely off guard by the unexpected kindness, the unyielding loyalty in his words. I had expected protocol, formality, a simple signing-off and a polite farewell. Not this profound offer of strong support, a testament to my worth within the pack, even as I chose to leave it. The weight of his trust was almost as heavy as my grief.

"Thank you, Alpha," I managed to say but the words had more impact than I realized, carrying a silent promise that I would not forget their generosity.

Luna Catherine, her silver hair gleaming softly in the lamplight, stepped forward then, her touch gentle as she squeezed my shoulder. Her eyes, usually sparkling with humor, were clouded with concern.

"You’ll find your way, Anna. Just don’t lose yourself in the process. Remember who you are, even when you're far from home." Her words were a quiet warning, a motherly plea.

I signed the final documents, a stack of official papers that formally severed my official ties to Woodcrest, transferring responsibilities, confirming my new status.

I walked out of the packhouse with nothing but my single suitcase and the daunting knowledge that I was now, for the first time in my life, a lone wolf. The vastness of the world stretched before me, daunting and exhilarating.

The drive was quiet, the steady hum of the engine filling the space between my racing thoughts, a monotonous drone that was almost comforting in its predictability. The highway stretched endlessly ahead, a ribbon of asphalt leading me toward Human Town, the place where I could disappear for a while, where the intricate rules and demanding expectations of the werewolf world wouldn’t dictate my every breath.

My hands tightened around the steering wheel, my knuckles white. I wasn’t running. I was resetting. That was what I told myself, a mantra to quiet the self-doubt.

A sudden, unexpected thought struck me, pulling me from my introspective haze. I grabbed my phone from the passenger seat beside me, my fingers fumbling slightly, and checked my banking app. Two new deposits stood out, glaringly obvious against my meager existing balance.

The first, a staggering 50,000 dollars was from my parents.

The second, an equally surprising sum, was from Alpha Rick, a life assurance payout, he called it, a fund traditionally set aside for the Luna of their pack. A security blanket, a silent acknowledgment of what I had lost and what I deserved, even though I was no longer officially the Luna-elect.

I blinked, my throat tightening, overwhelmed by the sheer generosity.

I hadn’t expected this, hadn't even considered it. I had barely any savings, fully planning to work odd jobs during my travels just to afford a tiny apartment in a mid-tier neighborhood. And now, I had enough to truly start over, without drowning in immediate financial strain, without the crushing weight of immediate need.

Warmth prickled behind my eyes, a surprising sting that threatened to become tears. I pushed it back, fiercely. Now was not the time. Gratitude swelled within me, a profound, aching sensation that momentarily eclipsed my grief. I quickly sent a message to both parties, a heartfelt thank you, promising to keep in touch, to let them know I was safe.

As the message sent, I exhaled deeply, a long, shaky breath, my grip on the wheel loosening, my shoulders relaxing slightly.

I am alone from now on. But I wasn’t forgotten.

And as the first, distant city lights of Human Town came into view, shimmering like scattered diamonds on the horizon, I knew this was only the beginning of something new.

A strange, terrifying, and utterly unknown beginning.