The penthouse had never felt so empty.
Maya stood in her room with her suitcase open on the bed, the hollow thud of rain against the windows marking the minutes like a drumbeat. Every piece of clothing she folded, every item she tucked away, carved another wound into her chest.
It wasn't that she wanted to leave. God, some traitorous part of her wanted to stay, to keep pretending that Damon's silences meant protection, that his touches weren't calculated. But she couldn't live a lie anymore—not after hearing him with her own ears.
She zipped the suitcase shut. The sound felt final, like a door slamming.
When she opened her bedroom door, Damon was there.
He leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, silver eyes unreadable. He must have heard the zipper, the restless heartbeat that betrayed her.
"You're leaving." His voice wasn't a question.
Maya lifted her chin. "Yes."
For a long beat, he didn't move. Then he pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "Where?"
"Does it matter?" Her voice cracked despite her best effort. "You said it yourself—the contract was never meant to last. Consider it fulfilled."
His jaw tightened. "I never said—"
"I heard you, Damon." Her chest heaved. "Every word. That I'm just your tether. That I'll break eventually, and you'll find someone better. That's all I've ever been to you, isn't it? A placeholder."
His silence cut deeper than denial.
Maya's throat burned. "At least have the decency to admit it to my face."
Damon's eyes flashed, the storm in them barely contained. "You think I don't care? You think I dragged you into my world because it was convenient?"
"Didn't you?"
For once, he looked shaken. His hand flexed, then fell limp at his side. "Maya…" He swallowed hard. "I can't explain it to you the way you want me to. But I never saw you as disposable."
The words almost undid her. Almost.
But she remembered Selene's mocking voice, the council's laughter, Damon's smooth agreement. If she breaks, she breaks.
Maya's nails dug into her palms. "You had your chance to prove that. You chose not to."
She brushed past him, dragging her suitcase down the hall. His footsteps followed, heavy, reluctant.
In the living room, the contract lay where it always had—in a sleek leather folder on the desk, a constant reminder of their bargain.
Maya snatched it up. Her fingers trembled, but her voice rang clear. "This is over."
Before Damon could stop her, she tore the pages in half. The sound ripped through the silence like thunder.
The pieces fluttered to the floor, white against the dark wood.
For the first time since she'd met him, Damon looked… stunned. His control cracked, his face raw with something that almost looked like fear.
"Maya—"
"No." Her eyes burned, but she held his gaze. "You wanted a contract wife. You got one. But I'm not going to be your leash, your tether, or your prophecy footnote anymore. I won't be half of anything."
Tears finally spilled, hot and unstoppable. "I wanted to believe you, Damon. I wanted to believe that somewhere under all your walls, you actually saw me. But maybe that was my mistake."
The silence between them roared. Damon's chest rose and fell, his fists clenched, his eyes bright with something she couldn't name. But he didn't stop her.
And that, more than anything, broke her.
She walked out with her suitcase, the elevator doors closing on the sight of Damon standing in the wreckage of torn paper, silver eyes haunted.
For the first time since this whole twisted marriage began, Maya felt free.
And for the first time, Damon Blackthorn felt the ache of loss clawing through his ribs, sharp and relentless.
Later that night, he stood alone in the living room, the storm outside reflecting the one inside him. The shredded contract lay scattered across the floor, but he didn't pick it up.
His wolf prowled restless under his skin, snarling, demanding he chase her. Claim her. Drag her back where she belonged.
But Damon stood frozen.
Because for all his strength, all his power, all his control—he didn't know how to hold her without breaking her.
Maya, meanwhile, curled in a cheap motel room across the city, clutching her phone with shaking hands. Ana's photo smiled back from the screen, steady and grounding.
"I'm okay," Maya whispered to herself, though her voice cracked. "I'm free. I'm okay."
But deep down, beneath the heartbreak and fury, a quieter truth lingered.
She wasn't free. Not really.
Because her heart was still tethered, no matter how many contracts she tore apart.