Chapter 5

I stepped into my room and popped open the suitcase, folding each piece of clothing like I was sealing off a chapter.

Liam's gray jacket—bottom of the pile.

Then Grandma's herb journal, untouched anti-inflammatory bundles, and the half-finished wrist guard.

Every item made me freeze for a second. Eight years packed into a carry-on.

From the next room, Chloe's sugary voice floated out. "Liam, will you tell me a story?"

His reply? Quiet. Too damn soft. "Sure. Lie down. I'll tell you one."

My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms. Just enough pain to keep me from falling apart.

That wolf? He wasn't mine anymore.

When the last zipper sealed, I dragged my suitcase into the living room.

Chloe stepped out, spotted the suitcase, and plastered on a guilty face like she practiced it in the mirror. "Sophia, you're leaving? I'm so sorry—I never meant to come between you two. I'll go back to my pack. Just don't leave Liam, okay?"

"Cut the crap." My voice? Ice-cold. "You won. He's yours. The sweet words, the soft looks—that's all on you now. I'm done."

Color drained from her face. Then she bolted, fake sobbing as she ran. "Liam! Sophia's leaving! She said she doesn't want you anymore!"

Liam stepped out, eyes locking on the suitcase. His jaw tightened. "Running again? Don't expect me to chase you this time."

"I'm not running," I said, steady. "We're done, Liam. Eight years—I'm exhausted. I'm done waiting."

He blinked, like I'd spoken another language. "Done? What did you just say?"

"You heard me." I nodded once. "We're done."

I swung the door open right as Emma showed up, meds in one hand, thick coat in the other. "Knew you'd walk. Crash at my place. Spare room's yours—and way better than this mess."

I didn't even hesitate. Just nodded and walked out behind her.

Noah's car waited at the curb. He rolled down the window. "Need a ride? It's late."

I slid into the passenger seat. He passed me a blanket. "It's freezing. Wrap up."

The warmth hit instantly—more real than anything Liam managed to give me in eight damn years.

Eight years of youth. Eight years of waiting. I cut the mate fantasy loose tonight.

I shut my eyes as one tear dropped onto the blanket.

This time, I wasn't turning back.