Mag-log inRue’s POV
As I walked away from Aiden and the mess that was now officially behind me, I heard her voice again, Sora, low and cutting like she always was.
“She’ll probably refuse to hand over the court documents when the time comes.”
Veronica sighed, her voice drenched in condescension. “But a divorce, right now? Something about this feels off. I think she’s hiding something.”
Sora didn’t even try to lower her voice. “Aiden, is this really in your best interest? How are we supposed to secure the Blood Claw alliance without her? It doesn’t make sense.”
“She’s just an omega,” Sora added with a mocking laugh. “What does she know about politics or alliances?”
“She’s cunning,” Veronica murmured, her tone almost admiring, in that backhanded way she did everything.
“But you, my son, you’re far more capable. If you can seal the Blood Claw alliance without her, you’ll be the first wolf in history to pull it off.”
“And it’s good riddance anyway,” Sora added, voice smug. “After giving birth, her figure went from hot to halfway. She was starting to become dead weight.”
“Your sister makes a point,” Veronica said smoothly, always encouraging, even in cruelty. “Just promise me you won’t regret this later, Aiden.”
Then came his voice. Cool. Sure of himself.
“Let’s see how long she lasts.”
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t turn around. If anything, his words sparked something inside me, a strange comfort.
Let them think they’ve won. Let him laugh, smirk, bask in this fantasy that I’ll come crawling back. If he only knew.
If Aiden had the slightest idea who I really was, Rue Hawthorne, daughter of Alpha Cyrus, rightful heir of the Blood Claw Pack, he’d choke on every smug word.
I passed them on my way upstairs. Didn’t even break stride. But I turned just slightly, enough to speak, voice calm, clipped.
“A lawyer will be in contact with you to handle any legal proceedings,” I said, not looking back.
And then I walked away for good.
Outside Iris’s room, I paused, hand resting against the glass. She looked so small beneath the blankets, her tiny chest rising and falling with slow, labored breaths. Tubes and wires ran across her fragile body.
She didn’t deserve this. None of it. All I wanted was for her to smile again, to be free of pain, to have a future, something brighter than what I had endured.
I called my father.
“We’ll be coming back soon,” I told him. My voice didn’t waver.
Aiden’s POV
After Rue and Iris left the hospital, I went home expecting some kind of message, maybe a call. Something. Anything. But days passed, and there was nothing.
A week later, the court documents arrived. Finalized.
I held the stamped decree in my hands for longer than I should’ve, staring at it like it had a second page I hadn’t noticed before. But there was nothing else, just cold legality.
My wolf, Blue, shifted restlessly beneath my skin, uneasy. He didn’t like the silence. Neither did I.
She hadn’t begged. Hadn’t pleaded. No last-minute messages. Not a single tear. She’d followed through without hesitation.
That part, that infuriated me the most.
Under my mother’s advice, I’d played it tough. Cold. I assumed Rue would back out. I thought she’d buckle under the weight of her own emotions, the way my mother said she would.
“She actually went through with it,” I muttered to myself. I tried calling her. Left messages. Told her she should rethink it, for Iris’s sake. Nothing. Her number was disconnected. She was just… gone.
The door burst open. Vance stepped in, his eyes dropping immediately to the brown envelope sitting open on my desk.
“The hospital called,” he said cautiously. “They can’t locate Rue. Or… Iris.”
I didn’t even look up. “You came all the way here to waste my time with that?”
Vance didn’t move.
“If she’s decided to disappear, that’s her choice. It has nothing to do with me.”
He hesitated. “But your daughter…”
“Dammit, Vance!” I snapped, fangs flashing. “Then go look for her if you’re so damn concerned!”
The words came out harsher than I intended, but I didn’t take them back. I hated how this whole thing was affecting me.
Hated how I checked my phone every few minutes for a message that never came. Hated that my wolf was pacing inside me like something was off, like we’d lost more than we were willing to admit.
What kind of Alpha admits weakness?
I slammed the divorce file shut, cramming it into the drawer like it was a bomb I could hide.
And then, as if summoned, the door opened again, without a knock.
Haven strutted in, bright and perfect as ever, holding a set of velvet ring boxes.
“Our engagement ceremony will be incredible,” she announced. “Second biggest event after a wedding. Oh, and the jeweler sent new ring designs. I’m leaning toward the emerald. It matches my eyes.”
She slid onto the arm of my chair, a smile painted on. I barely glanced at the sketches. “Whatever you want.”
Her smile faltered. “You didn’t even look.”
“I’m busy,” I said, pushing aside the folders, Blood Claw scouting reports, alliance proposals. Useless.
“Busy thinking about her?” she asked, voice sharp now, the sweetness stripped away.
Her name in Haven’s mouth lit a fire in my chest. “You’re being ridiculous,” I snapped.
She sat back, folding her arms. “The Blood Claw Pack never collaborates with outsiders. Instead of chasing shadows, why not ask for an invitation?”
“An invitation?” I scoffed. “You think that’s how this works? Half the continent licks their boots and still gets ignored. They don’t even acknowledge most packs. What makes us special?”
“Try,” she said simply. “What do you have to lose?”
Maybe she had a point. I had tried everything else. Reaching out to the Blood Claw Pack directly, subtly, through third parties, nothing worked.
Maybe this was my last shot before I gave up entirely. Three months passed.
The silence settled in like fog. Heavy. Suffocating.
Not a word from Rue. Not a whisper. No sudden calls begging for help, no drunken messages accusing me of ruining her life. No angry outbursts. No guilt trips.
She vanished like she never existed. And that,bothered me more than I could explain.
Don’t get me wrong, I told Blue, trying to convince myself more than him. I don’t miss her.
But that didn’t stop me from checking my phone every damn day. Still no messages. Still no missed calls.
She’d cut me off clean.
“Vance!” I barked.
My beta skidded into the room, ever alert. “Alpha?”
“Find my daughter.”
He blinked. “I thought you said…”
“I said find her, Vance,” I snapped. “Go out. Do whatever it takes. I want her back.” He nodded, but I could see the question in his eyes.
I didn’t give him a chance to ask about it. I didn’t need to explain myself. Because somewhere, buried beneath the rage, the stubborn pride, the strategy and politics, was something I hadn’t let myself feel in years.
Loss. And a deep, gnawing fear that maybe this time, Rue wouldn’t come back. And I wouldn’t know who I was without her.
Rue’s POVPercy went and sat on his seat, without any single word spoken. He held his head on the palm of his hand then turned to me with a slight smile.“I’m sorry,” he said, “ she really made me mad.”“She is just being jealous, pay no attention to her.” I saidJust then, I got a ping on my phone. Messages rushed through the pack network faster than any formal report ever could. Someone had dug into Percy's past with cruelty and dragged his father's death back into the open, as spectacle.They spoke of his father’s murder like it was a story meant to entertain.They spoke of his wolf pelt. How it was sold and displayed, bartered like meat.I felt it the i
Aiden’s POVI ran without thinking, my boots striking the hospital floor frantically. For one moment, I was certain that it was Rue. But when I reached the end of the corridor and the figure turned, the illusion shattered instantly.Only a stranger’s eyes met mine, startled and confused. The hope that had surged through me collapsed, leaving behind this life I was trapped in. I stood there longer than necessary, breathing through the disappointment.Percy’s POVThere were mixed reactions when Rue walked into the Post-Mutation Advanced Academy as an instructor. Everyone affiliated to me knew she deserved the position, her resilience, hard work and experience in combating mutated wolves was unmatched.In addition to that, she had survived things nobody thought she would, and that made her a better choice for an instructor.But other people hated the fact that she was made an instructor, they were outright unhappy about it.One of them was bold enough to admit it out loud and silently.
Haven’s POVI stormed out. I could not breathe in that tent. His voice, his rage, it pressed in on me, suffocating. I needed air. I needed distance from him.I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me at first. Then…“Mommy!”I turned too late.Blue was running toward me, her small legs pumping desperately, her face pale with fear.“Stop!” I screamed.The world slowed as a horn blared. Brakes screeched, and then………The hospital lights burned my eyes when we entered. Blue was rushed past me on a gurney, her small body swallowed by white sheets and frantic hands. I tried to follow, but someone grabbed my remaining arm, holding me back as the doors to the operating room slammed shut.I collapsed onto the bench outside the operating room, my knees giving way as if they had been hollowed out. My chest convulsed violently, breath tearing in and out of me in broken fragments. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was the only proof that I mattered. She was my daughter.The minutes dragged on lik
Haven’s POVI dressed Blue carefully that morning. Her little coat was buttoned wrong the first time, then fixed. My hands shook as I smoothed her hair, the motion mechanical, rehearsed, as though repetition could erase the dread coiled beneath my ribs.“Remember what Mommy said,” I told her, crouching to her level.She nodded, wide-eyed.“Don’t talk about colors,” I said. “Not to your teacher. Not to your friends.”Her brow furrowed. “Why?”“Because,” I answered too quickly, then softened my voice, “because some things are private, okay? Tell them it's private.”She hesitated, then nodded again.Children were obedient when they were afraid. That thought comforted me more than it should have.As we walked toward the kindergarten gate, I felt the familiar weight of stares pressing into my back. Some people did not bother to hide their contempt anymore. Others smiled too politely, eyes lingering on my sleeve, empty where an arm used to be.Crippled Luna.That was what they called me whe
Rue’s POVThe car idled quietly on the snow-drowned road, the heater humming softly, struggling against the cold that had followed us from the grave. His hands rested on the steering wheel, but he did not drive. He stared straight ahead, as if the darkness beyond the windshield held answers he had never dared to ask.“Today,” he said at last, “is the anniversary of my father’s death.”I turned toward him, my heart tightening. There was something exposed in the way he said it, as if naming the day itself reopened a wound that had never truly closed.“My mother used to say I should become a doctor,” Percy continued. “She said I had the brains for it.”His lips curved faintly, but the expression never reached his eyes.“She believed healing was a calling. That it ran in our blood.” “But I couldn’t,” Percy said.He exhaled, a breath that trembled despite his efforts to steady it.“Every time I touched medical books, every time I walked past a hospital, all I could see was blood on the fl
Rue’s POVBy the time the videos finished spreading, there was nowhere left for Haven to hide. I did not need to see them to know how thoroughly they had ruined her. Screens across the nation replayed the same frozen frames again and again.News outlets pretended it was about public safety. Social commentators framed it as a moral lesson. Strangers dissected her downfall with enthusiasm.But I knew the truth. This was execution by exposure.When I watched the clip, what I felt instead was a deep, almost chilling clarity. Haven had always believed herself untouchable, insulated by her status, by proximity to power, by the role she played so convincingly. Seeing her reduced to a spectacle felt less like revenge and more like inevitability.“This is just the first gift,” Percy said quietly beside me.Percy’s voice was calm, measured, as if he were explaining a medical procedure rather than the dismantling of a human life.“There are worse things than prison,” he continued. “Social death







