CHAPTER 3

"You look like you've been run over by a rogue Zamboni, Elena. And don't you dare tell me you're fine," Mason muttered, his eyes fixated on the bandage at my temple.

I’d been crashing at Mason’s for three days, and the silence from the Blackwood Estate was deafening. Sebastian hadn't called. He hadn't texted. It was classic Sebastian—if it wasn't about hockey or pack business, it didn't exist. I should have been scouring the Leeds area for a new apartment, but I needed to secure my alimony first. If my father, Fernando, caught wind of the split before the funds were locked down, he’d yank the life support from my mother at St. Mary’s faster than a wolf on a scent.

I had to confront him. I suspected the staff at the estate—probably under Doña Carmen’s orders—had fed my divorce papers to the shredder. I grabbed my keys and jumped into my SUV. Technically, it was still pack property, but since the ink wasn't dry on the separation, it was mine for the taking.

Merging onto the Redbridge Overpass, the world suddenly tilted. A massive, bone-jarring impact slammed into my rear bumper. My seatbelt turned into a steel vice, locking my chest as the scent of burning rubber and ozone filled the cabin. Every breath felt like I was inhaling jagged glass.

When the fog in my brain cleared, I was sitting under the flickering, sterile lights of St. Mary’s Private Hospital. The emergency room was a chaotic symphony of frantic footsteps, the metallic tang of blood, and the muffled sobs of pack members in the waiting area. I sat there, clutching my ribs, a solitary figure in a sea of people who had someone rushing to hold them. I was the Luna of the most powerful pack in the North, yet I was a ghost.

A nurse approached me with a clipboard, her expression clinical. "We need a signature for next of kin, Mrs. Blackwood. We can't discharge you after a collision like that without a companion to monitor you for a concussion."

I looked at the form, my hands trembling. I didn't want to stay in this place; it smelled too much like my mother’s tragedy. I pulled out my phone and dialed Sebastian. I told myself it was for the discharge papers, but a small, pathetic part of my wolf just wanted to hear his voice—to see if the bond still carried a spark of concern.

One ring. Two. Silence. I called again. Nothing.

I stood up, intent on washing the dried blood from my face, but as I rounded the corner toward the VIP wing, my heart stopped.

Sebastian. He was standing outside a private suite, his broad shoulders hunched, his posture a taut wire of restrained energy. He wasn't looking at a phone or a playbook. He was staring through the glass of the door with an expression of such raw, agonizing tenderness that it felt like a physical blow to my chest.

He hadn't missed my calls. He had simply prioritized the woman in that room.

The nurses nearby were whispering, their voices carrying on the sharp air of the hallway.

"Is that the lead actress from Moonlight Destiny? Valentina Cruz?"

"Yeah, the Ice Kings’ captain brought her in himself. Carried her through the doors like his life depended on it. He hasn't left her side for hours."

The realization crushed my ribs more effectively than the car crash ever could. Then, my phone vibrated in my hand. Calling: Sebastian Blackwood.

I answered, a hollow survival instinct taking over.

"What do you want, Elena?"

His voice was a razor—sharp, cold, and dripping with irritation.

I leaned against the cool tile of the wall, watching him through the glass as he paced. "Where are you, Sebastian?" I asked, my voice a thin thread, still hoping for a lie I could believe.

"I’m at the Blackwood Tower," he said without a second of hesitation. "I’m in the middle of a strategy meeting for the playoffs. What is it? I’m busy."

A dry, bitter laugh escaped my throat, sending a fresh wave of pain through my side. "Nothing... just checking."

I hung up. I watched him through the glass as a nurse stepped out of Valentina’s room to speak to him. The "Alpha" mask shattered instantly; he looked frantic, broken, terrified. He rushed into the room, disappearing from my sight.

Thank the Moon I had already chosen to leave. I wasn't losing a husband; I was escaping a predator who had already moved on to his next meal.

Mason arrived an hour later, his scent of cedar and rain a welcome relief. "Elena! God, you’re pale. Where’s Sebastian? I thought he’d be tearing this hospital apart."

"I’m fine, Mason. Just take me back to your place," I said, leaning into him. He didn't ask again. He just helped me to his car.

As we drove through the rainy streets of Manchester, every jolt of the car reminded me that I was still alive. "Your father... he doesn't know about the accident or the papers, does he?" Mason asked quietly.

"Not a word. And it stays that way," I whispered. "I need to make my own way now. I can't be beholden to the Blackwood name or the Navarro legacy."

"So, what’s the plan? You haven't touched your hockey career or your media training in years."

I looked out the window at the passing lights. "I’ve spent three years being a silent Luna, Mason. But before that, I was a student at the Northwest Screen Academy. I have millions of followers from my voice-over work for NorthForge Studios. I’ve been the voice of a dozen heroines while I sat in that mansion organizing Sebastian’s jersey collection."

Mason grinned. "You were the best in your class, El. People still talk about your range. Why not get back in front of the lens? Modern fans love a comeback story."

He was right. I had suppressed my own fire to keep Sebastian warm. It was time to burn for myself.

When we got to Mason’s flat, we spent the night scouring the industry boards. Mason flicked a screen toward me. "Look at this. A new high-budget production for a modern supernatural series. They need a lead with 'emotional depth and a commanding presence.' It’s a project called The Uman’s Legacy."

A small, defiant smile touched my lips. "You know how long I've been waiting for a role like this? Instead, I’ve been at the estate, making sure the Alpha’s steak was medium-rare and his ties were color-coded."

"Ex-Alpha," Mason corrected with a wink.

"Almost," I murmured.

I slept better that night than I had in years. Until the next morning, when my phone screamed on the nightstand. I grabbed it, seeing the name Sebastian Blackwood flashing like a warning sign.

"Hello?" I rasped.

"Elena! What the hell is this?" Sebastian’s voice roared through the line, vibrating with a fury I usually only saw on the ice. "The divorce papers? Are you actually serious?"

I sat up, the pain in my ribs a dull hum compared to the satisfaction blooming in my chest.

"Serious?" I asked, my tone airy. "I signed them, Sebastian. I even left a pen for you. Let’s end the contract so you can go back to your 'meetings' at the hospital."

I could hear his teeth grinding through the phone. "I’m talking about the reason you listed for the filing! Irreconcilable differences? Lack of intimacy?"

I took a deep breath, letting three years of resentment fuel my voice. "Sebastian, I've wanted to say this for a long time. Sex three times a year while you act like you're doing me a favor? Your mother hovering over me like a hawk, demanding I get my 'fertility' checked? Honestly, darling... the problem was never my womb. It was your cold, empty heart."

I hung up before he could roar back.

I stood in the guest room, staring at my reflection. For the first time, I didn't see the "dutiful Mrs. Blackwood." I saw Elena Navarro. And I was just getting started.