C5

“Stop playing the victim, Selene. I’m done being the submissive placeholder of this pack.”

The words felt like fire in my throat as I stared down Regina Crowne and Selene Voss. For two years, I had walked these marble floors like a ghost, bowing my head to Regina’s insults and swallowing my pride to keep the Crowne Dominion’s internal politics from fracturing. But the divorce papers were already drawn. The mask was off.

I ignored their gasps and walked straight to Victor Hale, taking the seat of honor right beside him.

“Lyra, you finally found your teeth,” Victor rumbled, his eyes gleaming with approval.

The heavy front doors groaned open, and Alpha Tristan Crowne stepped into the foyer. Before he could even shed his coat, Selene was on him, her fingers curling around his arm like a parasite.

“Tristan, you’re finally home from the ice,” she purred, her voice a saccharine weapon. “I’ve been waiting for you to lead the pack meeting.”

Tristan’s jaw tightened. He didn't lean into her; instead, he subtly extracted his arm, his golden eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.

“What is she doing here, Mother?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous vibration.

“I invited her,” Regina snapped, her eyes narrowing at me. “Selene is the one who saved our shipping lanes during the Northern blockade two years ago. She belongs here. Not this Ashford girl who only knows how to spend your credits.”

Selene cast a wounded, shimmering look at Tristan. “Maybe I should go back to the Ironfang territory. I don’t want to cause friction between you and your... analyst.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tristan muttered, though his eyes remained on me. “Stay where you are.”

I watched them from my seat, a bitter, icy laugh bubbling up in my chest. I was the one who managed his logistics while he was at hockey camp; I was the one who handled the Mafia hits on our territory boundaries. Yet here I was, the intruder.

“Victor, shall we head to the war room?” I asked, standing up. “I have no interest in watching a rehearsal for a new Luna.”

Victor pounded his cane against the floor. “I’ve lived through three Alpha successions! And let me be clear—Lyra Ashford is the only Luna I recognize. The rest of you are just noise!”

He pointed his cane at Tristan. “If I hear of anyone disrespecting her, I’m pulling my support from the hockey franchise and the Council seats. You’ll be an Alpha of nothing!”

Selene’s face contorted, her nails digging into her palms. Regina looked like she was about to have a stroke.

“Then donate the seats to the rival packs for all I care,” Tristan barked, reaching for Selene’s hand to lead her away. “I won’t be cornered in my own house.”

“You ungrateful pup!” Victor’s voice shook with a lethal fury, his wolf sensing the disrespect.

I grabbed Victor’s arm before he could shift. “Let him go, Victor. His heart was never part of the deal. You can't force a wolf to see what’s right in front of him.”

Once we were inside the soundproofed study, Victor let out a ragged sigh. “He’s a fool, Lyra. It’s his loss, not yours.”

He reached into a drawer and slid a heavy, blood-red folder across the desk. “Sign this.”

The word ‘Assets’ glared at me from the top of the parchment. I pushed it back immediately.

“I didn't marry him for the Crowne territory or the Mafia spoils,” I said firmly. “I married him because I was a fool who believed in a bond. Now that his ‘true’ mate is back, I’m leaving with exactly what I brought in.”

“Do you regret it?” Victor asked quietly. “Becoming the substitute for a man who didn't deserve you?”

I paused, a tear finally escaping and tracing a path down my cheek. “No. I don't regret loving him. I just regret thinking it would ever be enough to change him.”

I refused the money. Victor handed me a black encrypted card instead, telling me that if the Mafia world became too dangerous, I had a sanctuary with him.

I didn't go back to the Crowne Alpha Estate. I went to a high-security serviced loft near the docks—a place Tristan would never look. It was small, sterile, and blissfully silent. No memories of him, no scent of his cologne.

I scrubbed my skin raw in the shower, trying to wash away the feeling of his lips on mine from the car. I checked my contacts, my heart sinking. Who could I possibly bring to see Grandma Harper? Who would be brave enough to pretend to be the mate of an Alpha’s discarded wife?

The pup inside me kicked—a tiny, fluttering movement.

“Just you and me, little wolf,” I whispered.

My phone screamed on the glass table. Tristan. I let it ring three times before answering.

“Where are you, Lyra?” he roared, his voice thick with an Alpha’s possessive rage. “You aren't at the estate. Are you trying to start a scandal during the hockey playoffs?”

“Scandal?” I laughed, the sound sharp and jagged. “We’re getting a divorce, Tristan. My location is no longer on your tactical map.”

“Get back here now. This isn't a game.”

“I’ve accepted the end, Alpha Crowne. Stop looking for me. Spend your time with Selene and leave the ‘analyst’ alone.”

I hung up before he could respond.

For the next few days, I was a ghost. We both worked at the Crowne Dominion Tower, but I used the service elevators and worked through the night to avoid him. I was finishing the final tactical report for the season. Once the project was done, I’d be gone from the Mafia world forever.

Saturday morning arrived, cold and biting. I grabbed a box of pastries and headed toward the Northcrest Academy residential district where Grandma lived.

As I walked the path through the dying autumn leaves, a voice stopped me cold.

“Lyra? What the hell are you doing here?”

I spun around. It was Damien Cross, Tristan’s lead enforcer. He looked just as shocked as I felt.

“My grandmother lives in this sector,” I said, my heart racing. “What about you, Damien?”

Damien’s eyes went wide, his face pale. “I’ve lived here for years. I never saw you... Tristan—I mean, the Alpha and I used to run these woods when we were pups at the Academy.”