Chapter 4

It was the wee hours of the morning when Harold finally stumbled in. He reeked of booze, his shirt misbuttoned as if he had dressed in a hurry.

I did not understand why dealing with a virus carried by Rogues required drinking, but I did not want to know, either.

I helped him into the house, gave him water, and peeled off his shoes and clothes.

He was drenched in cologne, like he was trying to mask some other scent.

Clutching me close, he slurred, "My sweetheart, you're the best. No matter how late I get, you'd wait for me. If I ever come home and you're not here... I'd lose my mind."

I gazed at him, my voice soft. "Silly, have you forgotten the vows we made when we formed our mate bond?"

"From this moment, our hearts and souls are intertwined, bound by love and truth, loyalty and devotion. Only the Moon Goddess herself could ever tear us apart. However, if..."

"If you ever betray me, you'll never see me again," I cut him off.

Harold's lips brushed my eyelids, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. "You're the only one for me. Betrayal isn't in my cards."

He had not forgotten our promises.

Then, the doorbell shattered the silence.

I swung the door open to find Selena on the doorstep.

She leaned in close, too close, reeking of cologne—the same scent Harold wore.

She waved a sheaf of papers at me. "Luna, sorry to bother you at this hour, but there's new data on the virus infection that the Alpha needs to check."

Her bag, the same kind I would find in every room at the Lunaris Inn, was a silent message. She had been there with her mate.

Before I could reply, Harold charged down the stairs, likely drawn by Selena's voice.

He whisked me behind him, his voice laced with annoyance, "Selena, work stays out of the house. Luna doesn't appreciate it."

Without even glancing at the papers, Harold's words were a clear warning, "I've made my orders clear. Anyone who can't follow them can leave the pack."

With that, he slammed the door in her face, "Don't mind her, she doesn't get it."

I answered softly, "I'm not upset, just worried about you working too hard."

When Harold came to his senses, he blinked at the sea of photo albums strewn across the living room. "What's with all this stuff all of a sudden?"

"I haven't gone through them in ages, just wanted to have a look," I replied, my voice heavy with nostalgia.

Harold wrapped his arms around me and we sank into the couch, flipping through the albums together. "Time flies, huh? Ten years since we met, and now it's our fifth anniversary since we became an inseparable pair. It's definitely time to walk down memory lane."

Harold must have still been a bit tipsy, rambling on as he clung to me.

"Check this out. At the dance, I snapped this while you were twirling. The second time I asked you to dance, you said yes. Though I bet you were playing hard to get because you spent the whole night stepping on my toes, doing anything to dodge my advances.

"And this one, when my own family turned their backs on me, and you were there, tears streaming down your face. That was the first time you cried over me. I must've taken a dozen pictures to remember it by, and you chased me around, pleading with me to delete those 'terrible' shots. However, they're not—they're adorable, beautiful even."

He talked until exhaustion took over, and then he drifted off in my arms, murmuring, "Anita, let's have a kid, add another face to these albums..."

I listened to his trip down memory lane, his hopes for the future, all while my tears fell silently in the darkness.

Once Harold was sound asleep, I gathered up those memories and tossed them into the trash.

Those recollections had stirred something in Harold, and he decided we should go on a vacation—to the land he had given me, blanketed with moonflowers, the place where I had accepted his love.

It seemed fitting to start and end it all there, to draw a perfect close to what we once had.

We arrived at the vacation cottage, and it was like stepping back into the days when our love was new.

We danced, took in the views, and cooked meals together, just like old times.

I had prepared his favorites: grilled salmon and a hearty meatloaf.

He hugged me from behind. "I could eat your cooking every day for the rest of my life and never get tired of it, Anita."

I grinned at him. "Well, you better dig in and not leave any leftovers."

Little did I know, it would be the last time Harold would savor my cooking.

In the midst of our warm moment, Harold let go of me and stepped outside. I figured he must have received some kind of werewolf distress link he did not want me to sense.

Dish by dish, I set the table, only to be met with Harold's regretful gaze.

He did not have to say a word, I knew he had been roped into another 'complicated' job.

"It's fine, go handle it," I said, ever the understanding one. "However, if you can, come back and join me for dinner tonight, okay?"

After all, I was leaving tomorrow.

"Sure." He promised with a serious look and then rushed off.

He never came back that night, and I waited until the food turned cold and sleep took me right there at the table. When I woke up, it was already morning.

Harold did not come back.

I checked Selena's Instagram to see she had been ill, and her mate had been by her side all night.

I chuckled, hit 'like,' and wished them everlasting joy.

Then, with my suitcase in tow, I left the cozy cabin without a backward glance.

The once-delicious salmon and meatloaf sat untouched, then cold and unappetizing—much like the love between Harold and me that had grown stale.

At the airport, I uncorked the vial from the witch and downed the bitter potion without a second thought.

The witch had promised me that with just one sip, I would vanish from my people's awareness, so thoroughly that not even the Moon Goddess could track me down. Right before my plane was set to take off, I shot Harold one final text.

Message delivered.

I powered down my phone, tossed the SIM card, cutting ties with the life I had left behind.