The morning Isla Riversong arrives, the entire pack loses its collective mind.

I watch from my office window as cars line the circular drive, pack members spilling out in their finest clothes like it's a fucking coronation. Which, I suppose, it is.

The future Luna has arrived to claim her throne.

And the current Luna gets to hold the door open and smile.

My stomach lurches. I breathe through my nose, willing the nausea down. I've already thrown up twice this morning—once from the pregnancy, once from sheer dread. My body can't seem to decide which crisis deserves the more dramatic response.

"Maya?" Kieran's voice comes from my doorway. "They're asking for you."

Of course they are.

I turn from the window, smoothing my dress—navy blue, conservative, the kind of thing a placeholder wears when she's about to be replaced. I'd chosen it carefully this morning, rejecting three others. Too formal. Too casual. Too much like I'm trying.

This one says: I know my place. I'm already gone.

"How do I look?" I ask, aiming for light and landing somewhere near brittle.

Kieran's hazel eyes scan my face, and I see the concern there. The pity. It makes my skin itch.

"Like you need to eat something," he says carefully.

"I'll add it to my to-do list. Right after 'meet replacement' and 'tour her through rooms I'm being evicted from.'"

"Maya—"

"Don't." I hold up a hand. "Please. I just... I need to get through today."

He steps aside as I pass, but I catch his scent—smoke and amber, warm and steady. It's almost enough to make me cry, which would be spectacular. Nothing says 'dignified exit' like sobbing in the hallway.

I make it to the front entrance just as the main car pulls up.

Declan is already there, of course. He stands at the top of the steps in charcoal slacks and a crisp white shirt, looking every inch the Alpha. Powerful. Commanding. Ready.

I haven't seen him this animated in years.

The car door opens.

And Isla Riversong steps out like she's been personally delivered by destiny itself.

Fuck me, she's perfect.

Long blonde hair that catches the sunlight and turns it into gold. Violet eyes—actual violet, like someone wrote her into existence specifically to fulfill prophecies. She's wearing a white dress that should look pretentious but somehow just looks ethereal, and when she smiles up at the packhouse, I swear I hear someone sigh.

She's everything I'm not.

Everything I'll never be.

Everything Declan has been waiting for.

Her scent reaches me even from here—honeysuckle and moonlight, sweet and intoxicating. It wraps around the gathered pack like a blessing, and I watch wolves I've known for years straighten, eyes glazing slightly with instinctive submission to a Luna who isn't even officially installed yet.

My wolf whimpers.

I tell her to shut up.

Declan descends the steps, and I watch his face transform. He's smiling—really smiling, not the polite mask he wears at pack functions. His storm-gray eyes are warm, almost boyish, and when Isla extends her hand, he takes it like he's been waiting his whole life for this moment.

Maybe he has.

"Alpha Ashford," Isla says, her voice like honey. "It's an honor."

"The honor is mine." Declan's voice is rough with something I've never heard directed at me. "Welcome to Silverpine."

I should move. Should go down there and play my part. But my feet are rooted to the top step, and I'm suddenly, viscerally aware that I'm about to watch my husband fall in love with someone else in real-time.

Kieran's hand touches my elbow gently. "You don't have to do this."

"Yeah," I murmur. "I really do."

I force my legs to move, descending the steps with my shoulders back and my face carefully neutral. The crowd parts for me—not out of respect, but like they've forgotten I exist until I'm directly in their line of sight.

Declan glances up as I approach. His expression doesn't change, still pleasant, still distant. Like I'm the event coordinator, not his wife.

"Isla," he says, "this is Maya. She'll help you get settled."

Not 'my wife.' Not 'the current Luna.' Just Maya.

Like I'm the fucking welcome wagon.

Isla turns those violet eyes on me, and her smile is radiant. Genuine. Which somehow makes it worse.

"Maya! I've heard so much about you." She reaches for my hands, clasping them warmly. Her skin is soft, perfectly manicured. Mine are ink-stained from this morning's budget work. "Thank you so much for being so gracious about all this. I know it must be... difficult."

Difficult. Right.

"It's fine," I hear myself say. My voice is steady. Professional. Dead. "Welcome to Silverpine."

Her scent washes over me, and my stomach rolls. I breathe through my mouth, praying I don't vomit on the future Luna's designer shoes.

"Declan said you'd show me around?" Isla glances between us, still holding my hands. "I don't want to impose, but I'm so eager to see everything."

"Of course." I extract my hands gently. "Whenever you're ready."

"Now would be perfect!" She loops her arm through mine like we're old friends, and I have to fight the urge to flinch. "I want to hear all about how you've been running things. Declan says you're absolutely brilliant with the pack finances."

He said that? To her?

I glance at Declan, but he's already turning away, greeting other pack members. Dismissed.

"Right," I say. "Let's start with the main house."

---

The tour is a special kind of torture.

Isla asks questions about everything—the history of the packhouse, the layout, which families live where. She's genuinely interested, taking mental notes, already thinking like a Luna.

A real one.

We're in the main hall when she stops in front of the portrait wall. Past Alphas and their Lunas stare down at us, generations of perfect pairs.

"Will you and Declan be up there?" she asks innocently.

My laugh is sharp. "No. That's for... completed bonds."

"Oh." She touches my arm. "I'm sorry. That must be hard."

"It's fine."

"Is it though?" She turns to face me fully, violet eyes swimming with sympathy. "I can't imagine being in a bond that never... I mean, six years and you never...?"

She trails off delicately, but the question hangs there.

You never fucked him?

My face heats. "It was complicated."

"Of course." She squeezes my arm. "I didn't mean to pry. It's just—I want to understand. So I can help make this transition easier for you."

Help me. She wants to help me.

I'm going to scream.

"The Luna's quarters are this way," I say instead, leading her up the main staircase.

---

Walking into the Luna's quarters with Isla feels like attending my own funeral.

These rooms have never really been mine—Declan made that clear from day one. He kept his own suite on the other side of the packhouse, and I... I existed here, in this beautiful, empty space, like a ghost haunting someone else's life.

But they were still mine on paper.

Until now.

"Oh my goddess," Isla breathes, spinning in the center of the sitting room. "It's beautiful."

It is. High ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the forest, furniture in soft creams and grays. I'd chosen everything carefully six years ago, hoping Declan might eventually want to share it.

He never did.

"The bedroom's through here," I say, my voice hollow.

Isla floats through the doorway, and I watch her take in the massive bed, the fireplace, the private balcony. She runs her hand along the dresser, already claiming it.

"Have you been happy here?" she asks suddenly.

The question catches me off-guard. "What?"

"Here. In these rooms. Were you happy?" She turns to me, head tilted. "I just—I want to honor what you built, even if it wasn't... what you hoped."

Something cracks in my chest.

"No," I say quietly. "I wasn't happy."

"I'm sorry." And she sounds like she means it. "For what it's worth, I think you were incredibly brave. Staying all this time, even when the bond wasn't... when he wasn't..."

"Wasn't what?" The words come out sharper than I intend.

"Wasn't yours," she says simply. "Not really. The prophecies—they've always said the Alpha's true mate would come. You must have known."

Must have known I was temporary. Disposable. Not enough.

"Yeah," I manage. "I knew."

Isla moves to the window, looking out over pack lands. "I'll take good care of them. The pack, I mean. And Declan." She glances back at me. "I promise."

The thing is, I believe her.

She's not cruel. She's not trying to hurt me. She just... exists in a world where she's the protagonist, and I'm a minor character whose arc is complete.

Time to exit stage left.

"I'm sure you will," I say.

"Is there anything—" She hesitates. "Anything that might complicate the severance? Anything I should know?"

My hand wants to drift to my stomach. I lock it at my side.

"No," I lie. "Nothing."

---

The legal meeting happens in Declan's office at 2 PM.

I'm escorted in like a defendant, facing Declan behind his massive desk and his attorney—a sharp-eyed wolf named Marcus—in the chair beside him. Isla sits on the leather sofa, present but quiet, a future Luna learning pack business.

"Maya." Declan gestures to the chair across from him. "Please, sit."

I sit.

Marcus slides a folder across the desk. "These are the severance terms. We've tried to be fair."

Fair. Right.

I open the folder, scanning the dense legal text. The words blur together, but certain phrases jump out:

Immediate vacation of pack territory...

Renunciation of all Luna rights and titles...

Non-disclosure agreements regarding pack business...

Settlement of $50,000...

Fifty thousand dollars. For six years of service. Of holding this pack together while Declan searched for someone better.

"You'll need to be off pack lands within thirty days of the severance ceremony," Marcus continues. "The settlement should give you a good start elsewhere."

Elsewhere. Anywhere but here.

"What about pack bonds?" I ask. My voice sounds distant. "With other members?"

"Severed along with the mate bond," Marcus says. "Clean break."

Clean. Like I was never here. Like I never mattered.

"Maya, if there's anything you need—" Declan starts, but I cut him off.

"It's fine." I'm so tired of saying that word. "When's the ceremony?"

"Two weeks," Marcus says. "Full moon. Traditional."

Of course. Everything about Isla is traditional. Prophesied. Right.

"Is there anything you need to disclose?" Marcus's eyes are sharp. "Any complications we should address now?"

I feel Declan's gaze on me. Polite. Distant. He's looking at me the same way he has for six years—like I'm a problem to be solved, a loose end to be tied up.

Not like I'm the woman who carried his child.

Who still carries it.

"No," I say clearly. "No complications."

Isla shifts on the sofa. "I'm glad. I know this must be hard, Maya, but I think it's best for everyone. You'll finally be free to find your true mate."

My true mate is sitting across from me, discussing how to erase me from his life.

"Yeah," I say. "Finally."

Declan's expression doesn't change. No recognition. No memory of the Blood Moon night, of his hands on my skin, of the way he'd said my name like a prayer.

He doesn't remember.

And I can't tell him.

Because if I reveal the pregnancy now, with Isla sitting there glowing with prophecy and promise, I'm not the wronged wife. I'm the scheming placeholder who trapped him. The desperate woman who got pregnant to keep what was never hers.

I'd lose everything.

Including my child.

"Sign here," Marcus says, pointing to signature lines. "This just acknowledges you've received the terms. You'll have a week to review before the final signing."

My hand shakes as I pick up the pen. The signature looks nothing like my usual writing—jagged, broken.

Fitting.

"Thank you, Maya," Declan says as I stand. "For being so understanding about this."

Understanding. Like I have a choice.

I nod, not trusting my voice, and turn to leave.

"Oh, Maya?" Isla calls. "I was thinking—maybe we could have dinner sometime this week? I'd love to hear your advice about Luna duties. You've done this for so long."

She's trying to be kind. To include me. To make this easier.

It makes me want to scream.

"Maybe," I say, and flee before my composure cracks completely.

---

I make it back to my quarters—still mine for two more weeks—before the shaking starts.

My whole body trembles as I close the door, lock it, slide down to sit on the floor with my back against the wood.

Thirty days to leave.

Fifty thousand dollars.

No pack. No bond. No home.

And a baby no one can know about.

I press my hands against my stomach, feeling nothing yet but knowing it's there. A tiny spark of life that changes everything.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so fucking sorry."

For bringing it into this mess. For not being stronger. For falling for a man who never wanted me.

For having to choose between revealing the truth and protecting us both.

I don't know how long I sit there. The light shifts, afternoon bleeding into evening. My legs go numb. My back aches.

Finally, I force myself to stand.

I need to pack. Need to plan. Need to figure out where the hell I'm going to go and how I'm going to survive as a lone wolf with a baby.

I move through the bedroom mechanically, pulling clothes from drawers, stacking them on the bed. Most of it is practical—jeans, sweaters, nothing expensive. I've never been the type for designer anything.

I'm reaching for another drawer when my hand brushes something soft.

Fabric. Shoved in the back, hidden.

I pull it out slowly.

It's a shirt. Men's. Dark gray, soft from wear.

Declan's shirt.

From the Blood Moon night.

I'd grabbed it in the morning when I'd woken alone, needing something of his even though I knew he'd never remember. I'd hidden it like a pathetic secret, taking it out sometimes when the loneliness got too sharp, breathing in his scent—cedar and winter rain.

It still smells like him.

And faintly, underneath, like me.

Like us.

Like the only time he was ever truly mine.

I hold it to my chest, and something inside me hardens.

Fuck the severance ceremony.

Fuck the settlement and the terms and the clean break.

I'm not going to stand there in two weeks and let them erase me while I smile and nod and pretend it's fine.

I'm not going to watch Declan bond with Isla while our child grows inside me.

I'm not going to be the tragic footnote in their perfect prophecy story.

I'm going to disappear.

I'll take the fifty thousand—I've earned it. But I'll be gone before they can sever the bond, before they can cut me off from the pack completely. I'll leave on my terms, not theirs.

And maybe, somewhere far from here, I can figure out how to be enough.

For me.

For my baby.

For the life I'm going to build from the ashes of this one.

I pull out my phone, hands steady now, and text the one person I know will help me.

Kieran. I need a favor. And I need you not to ask questions.

The response comes within seconds.

Anything.

I look around the Luna's quarters one last time. At the life I tried to build. The home that was never mine.

Then I start packing in earnest.

Two weeks until the ceremony.

But I'll be gone in three days.