A word I hadn’t felt in months.
After hanging up, I booked the earliest flight home. My claws pricked painfully into my palms—an instinctive response to rage and heartbreak. I could still remember this morning: I had gently asked Carson to accompany me for the check-up, hoping—just once—he would act like he cared. He barely looked up from his phone, saying he had work.
But here he was.
At Alice’s side.
Smiling. Touching. Loving.
Through all nine months of my pregnancy, he had not attended a single appointment with me. Not one. But Alice returned bruised by a broken engagement, and suddenly he was her personal shadow—her protector, her comfort, her everything.
The pack doctor emerged then, smiling warmly at Carson.
“You’re fortunate, Brianna. Your mate never misses a check-up. His devotion is admirable.”
Alice blushed delicately. Carson nodded, pride swelling in his chest like a man praised for his loyalty.
My heart cracked so hard I swore I felt the pieces shift inside me.
Let them act their little play.
They didn’t know that the actress they thought helpless had already prepared her exit.
In two weeks, I would be gone—
mother of his heir,
bearer of his discarded bond,
and the Luna he threw away without a second thought.
Gone forever.