“You’re telling me you nearly fell off a cliff and died… just to pick her flowers?”
Mira stared at her Alpha husband, whose upper body was wrapped in bandages, and barely managed to keep her voice from breaking.
She had barely stepped off the plane when she received the news: her husband, Alpha Adrian of the Silver Ridge Pack, was at death’s door.
Her heart had clenched. She’d driven herself half-mad rushing to the hospital, only to walk in and find her severely injured husband gently cradling Ivy, wiping away her tears.
“Mira, don’t make a scene. I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Adrian’s tone was almost casual.
“Don’t make a scene?” Mira’s voice rose, sharp and trembling. “We’ve been married three years, Adrian. You’ve barely remembered my birthdays. You’ve never once bought me a proper bouquet. And today, you nearly threw your life away for another woman’s birthday wish? Have you forgotten you’re an Alpha? Have you forgotten you’re my husband?”
“Ivy isn't just another woman,” Adrian said, his jaw tightening. “She’s Draven’s widow. I made a promise to take care of her.”
“Right. Another promise to your precious, noble friendship.” Mira let out a bitter laugh that held no humor. “She’s been here three months, Adrian. Three months, and you’ve handed her everything—my garden, my bedroom, even my place beside you."
"And I didn’t say a word. You broke date after date to hold her hand through her grief, and I stayed silent. But today? Today you almost died for her little wish, and you expect me to stay calm?”
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to something raw and dangerous.
“Adrian Vale, I need you to tell me the truth. Is this about Draven… or is there something else going on between you two?”
His hand moved before she could blink.
The slap cracked across her cheek, sharp and final.
“What the hell are you insinuating?” he snarled. “Look at yourself. Do you even act like a Luna anymore?”
Mira pressed her fingers to her stinging face. But the burn on her skin was nothing compared to the hollow ache splitting open in her chest. They had dated for two years, married for three. Adrian had never raised a hand to her. Not once.
Then Ivy Glass walked into their lives.
And everything shattered.
Before Ivy arrived, Adrian had at least made time for one dinner a week with her. No matter how busy things got with the pack, that was their small ritual. A quiet hour where they weren't Alpha and Luna, just husband and wife.
Now? Mira couldn't remember the last time she'd seen his shadow in their bedroom before midnight.
At first, she told herself it was grief. Adrian was honoring Draven's memory. Taking care of his widow was the honorable thing to do. She understood honor. She had married into it.
But then things began to feel… off.
Adrian had shattered a Beta warrior's jaw just because the man stood too close to Ivy at a pack gathering.
He had thrown an Omega into the cells for an entire night—for accidentally spilling wine on Ivy's dress.
He had missed the Alpha Summit—the most important political event of the year—simply because Ivy hadn't been granted an invitation.
Mira had never received that version of him. Not once in five years. Whenever she'd needed him to rage on her behalf, to break rules just to hold her close, he'd always said the same thing: An Alpha who lets emotion rule him can't lead a strong pack.
Yet for Ivy Glass, he had become exactly that Alpha.
If not for the thin, aching thread of their mate bond still pulsing somewhere deep in her chest, Mira would have sworn Ivy was his true mate.
The silence in the hospital room stretched into something brittle and suffocating.
Then Ivy moved.
She stepped closer, still wrapped in Adrian's jacket—his scent all over her, Mira noticed with a sick twist of her stomach. Her eyes were glistening, wet and wounded, and in her trembling hands she held out the blood-stained wildflowers.
"I truly only mentioned it in passing," Ivy whispered. "I never thought he would actually—" A small, shuddering breath. "If this is causing trouble between you two… please. Take them back. Just… please don't fight because of me."
She offered the flowers like a peace treaty.
But Mira saw the flicker beneath those lashes. The way Ivy's fingers curled just slightly tighter around the stems before letting go. The way her gaze dropped—not in shame, but in calculation.
She knows exactly what she's doing.
Mira looked at those crushed petals, stained with her husband's blood, and something inside her snapped.
"You want me to take them?" Mira said quietly. "Fine."
She struck the flowers from Ivy's hand.
The petals scattered across the floor like broken confetti.
But Ivy didn't just stand there. She gave a soft gasp—too soft, too timed—and stumbled backward, her body tilting as if Mira had shoved her with both hands instead of barely grazing her wrist.
"Adrian—!" Ivy cried out.
Mira watched in slow, sick motion as her husband—her husband, still wrapped in bandages, still bleeding through half his stitches—lunged from the bed and caught Ivy before she could hit the ground. His arms wrapped around her like she was something precious. Something worth breaking himself for.
"Mira!" Adrian's roar echoed off the sterile walls. "What the hell is wrong with you? She was trying to help!"
His eyes burned with a fury he had never once turned on her. Not in five years. Not once.
"She tripped over nothing, Adrian. I barely touched her." Mira's voice was cold now, but her hands were shaking. "You know that. You have to know that."
"I know what I saw." He pulled Ivy closer, one hand cradling the back of her head. "You're jealous. Petty. Vindictive. Where is your Luna grace, Mira? Where is your dignity?"
Ivy buried her face against Adrian's chest, but not before Mira caught it. The briefest flash of triumph.
Mira exhaled slowly. The rage that had been burning in her chest for three months suddenly went quiet. Not because it had faded—but because it had finally found its shape.
"You're right, Adrian," she said, and her voice was eerily calm now. "I don't have Luna grace. I don't have dignity. And I certainly don't have a husband."
He blinked. "What?"
"I said—" She pulled the silver band from her finger and let it fall to the floor between them. The ring rolled once, twice, then lay still at his feet. "If I'm so unworthy of being your Luna, then I'm done. Let's end this. Let's get a divorce."
Adrian went rigid. "You don't mean that."
"Why not?" Mira let out a cold, light laugh. "Don't tell me you actually believe I can't survive without you."
She was a Sterling's daughter. Even with both parents gone, her bloodline and the inheritance they left behind meant she would never lack the means to start over. She didn't need his name. She didn't need his pack.
She straightened her spine and met his gaze with something she hadn't dared show him in months: defiance.
"I, Mira Vale, reject—"
"Don't you dare!"
The roar that tore from Adrian's throat shook the room. His wolf surged to the surface, pupils bleeding gold, Alpha dominance crashing down like a tidal wave.
"You cannot sever this bond," he snarled, each word a brand. "You won't."
Mira wanted to fight back. Wanted to spit the words at his feet and walk out forever.
But her body wouldn't move.
The blood vow they had sworn at their mating ceremony—always submit to her Alpha husband—locked her limbs, sealed her throat, turned her rebellion into ash. She had carved those vows into her own skin with joy three years ago. She had believed she was marrying for love.
Not for a cage.
Adrian's eyes flickered—something almost like regret passing through the gold—but it vanished as quickly as it came.
"Mason," he said flatly, calling to his Beta. "Take the Luna home. She's not thinking clearly."
