004

SERENA’S POV

A chill rippled through me—not from the words themselves, but from the way they left his mouth: detached, hollow, as though he were already stepping away while still standing in front of me.

“Talk?” I echoed, the smile I had forced earlier slipping from my face as I searched his expression. “Of course. Let’s talk. I have something important to tell you as well, but you can go first.”

I gestured toward the chairs, inviting him to sit, yet he remained standing. His posture stayed rigid, those blue eyes shadowed by something I could not quite name. My pulse quickened as unease clawed its way upward from the pit of my stomach.

“I want a divorce,” he said at last, the words heavy and sharp, cutting cleanly through the air between us.

For a moment everything seemed to freeze. The clock on the wall continued its indifferent ticking, yet the world I had known came to a complete standstill.

“What?” The single word slipped out as little more than a whisper, my voice cracking under the sudden weight of disbelief.

His eyes met mine, that piercing blue now a shade I no longer recognized. There was no warmth, no hesitation—only a resolute finality that made my knees feel weak beneath me.

“You heard me,” he said, each syllable deliberate and unyielding. “This marriage. It’s over.”

A bitter laugh rose unbidden, sharp and jagged like broken glass. “After everything? After everything we fought for, everything we survived… and you’re simply done?”

Thorne’s jaw tightened. His stance remained rigid, as though he were bracing himself for impact, yet there was no indication he intended to take a single step back.

“You’ve refused to give me an heir,” he said, his voice stripped of all warmth. “You’ve failed in your role as my Luna.”

The accusation landed like a physical punch, driving the air from my lungs. My hands trembled at my sides, curling into fists as though I could hold myself together through sheer force of will.

“Failed?” I repeated, my voice shaking. “Is that all I am to you? A womb meant to carry your legacy?”

His gaze faltered for the briefest second—just long enough for me to catch a flicker of something. Regret? Guilt? Whatever it was vanished before I could fully grasp it.

“This isn’t only about us,” he continued, his tone softening by a fraction that still failed to matter. “Mira is carrying my child.”

Mira.

The name detonated inside my mind, scattering memories like shrapnel. My knees nearly buckled. I gripped the edge of the table, the wood biting hard into my palms.

“Mira?” The word tasted bitter and foreign, as though it had no place in the language of the life I thought I was living. “Your Beta’s sister. Your…” My voice cracked. “Your childhood friend.”

“She’s giving me what you can’t.” His voice remained steady and final, the words tightening around my throat like a noose.

The room seemed to tilt. My vision swam. Unbidden images flashed through my mind—her laughter at pack gatherings, the way his hand had lingered a moment too long on her shoulder. My pulse roared in my ears.

“You promised me,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “You swore there was nothing between the two of you.”

“And I meant it—then,” he answered, as if that single word could erase the betrayal now carved into every syllable he spoke. “But things change.”

I laughed then—a harsh, hollow sound that scraped against my raw throat. “Things change,” I repeated, bitterness dripping from every word. “You mean *you* changed. You decided I was no longer enough.”

He did not deny it. Instead he thrust a stack of papers toward me. The rustle of the pages sounded like the snapping of a final tether.

“Sign the damn papers,” he said flatly. “Let’s not drag this out any longer.”

I stared down at the documents. My name was already printed beneath a blank line, waiting for my surrender. The betrayal felt alive, clawing at my chest and tearing through the memories we had once shared.

“You want me gone?” I asked, my voice trembling with restrained fury. “Just like that?”

His silence was answer enough.

My hand shook as I reached for the pen. Each stroke of ink felt like a death knell. Every letter I wrote severed another thread that had once tied me to the man I believed I knew. When I finished, I shoved the papers hard against his chest, my movements sharp and final.

“There,” I said, my voice cutting through the air like steel. “I, Serena Vale, reject you, Thorne Blackwood, as my mate and my Alpha. May you and Mira have the life you so clearly believe you deserve. But mark my words, Thorne—you will regret this. One day you will see exactly what you threw away.”

I turned to leave, my steps heavy with finality, but his hand shot out and gripped my wrist like a shackle.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he sneered, venom lacing every word. “You have nothing, Serena. No family. No pack. No one left to turn to. You will be nothing without me.”

I yanked my arm free, my glare sharp enough to cut. “Better nothing than remaining chained to someone who sees me as worthless,” I answered, my voice low and fierce. “You do not own me, Thorne. Not anymore.”

I turned and walked toward the door, my steps steady even as my heart shattered with every single one. A lone tear escaped and rolled down my cheek as I left behind the man who had once been my entire world. My chest felt hollow, my soul fractured, and I was no longer certain I would ever b

e able to piece myself back together again.

But I will try.

I had to.