Isla's POV
My hands won't stop shaking as I throw clothes into the bag.
Not his clothes. Not anything he gave me. Just mine and Lyra's—the things that belonged to us before we became ghosts in Dante Blackthorn's cold, empty world.
The mate bond throbs in my chest like an open wound. Every breath hurts. Every heartbeat screams at me to go back, to forgive, to crawl back to a guy who just let our son call another woman Mommy.
"Stop it," I say to myself. "You're done breaking for him."
But my wolf is roaring. She wants our mate, even after everything. Even after seven years of ice and disinterest. Even after tonight.
I grab Lyra's favorite toy rabbit and my vision blurs with tears. My daughter asked me five times at her own birthday party where her daddy was. Five times I had to smile and lie and pretend it didn't slice my heart open that he couldn't spare two hours for his baby girl.
Now I know where he was. Who he was with. What he was doing.
The bag zips shut with a sound like a coffin closing.
Lyra is at a sleepover three houses down—the Alpha's daughter doesn't do regular sleepovers, but close enough. I have to get her. Have to leave before I lose my nerve, before the bond pulls me back, before I become the pathetic wife who forgives the unthinkable.
I'm halfway down the stairs when I hear it.
Footsteps in the hallway.
My heart stops. Dante. He came back. He's going to use that Alpha voice again, going to tell me to stay, to forgive, to forget what I saw— "Luna?"
Marcus. Just Marcus.
I almost collapse with relief and sadness all mixed together. Dante's Beta stands at the bottom of the stairs, and his face tells me he knows everything.
"Don't," I say before he can speak. "Don't tell me it's not what it looked like. Don't tell me to give him another chance. Don't—"
"I was going to say I'm sorry." His voice cracks. "I've watched him ruin you for seven years. I should have said something. Done something. I'm sorry, Luna."
The kindness breaks something in me that malice couldn't touch.
"I need to get Lyra," I say. "Can you... can you make sure no one follows us? Just for today. Please."
Marcus studies me for a long moment. Then he nods. "The patrol changes shifts at midnight. East border will be clear for twenty minutes. That's all I can give you."
"It's enough."
I'm at the door when his voice stops me. "Isla? He's going to lose his mind when he sees you're really gone. The bond rejection—it's already killing him."
Good. The thought is vicious and fulfilling and makes me hate myself a little. "Tell him... tell him he won. He's finally free of me."
Marcus's face says he knows that's a lie. But he doesn't argue.
The night air hits my face like cold water. I move quickly, quietly, every urge screaming at me to run. The sleepover house is dark except for one window—little girls giggling, probably sharing secrets and eating candy they're not supposed to have.
Normal. Safe. Everything my life has never been.
I knock softly. Lyra's friend's mother answers, shocked. "Luna Isla? Is everything okay?"
"Family emergency." The lie comes easy. "I need to take Lyra home."
Five minutes later, my sleepy daughter is buckled into the back seat of my car, holding her rabbit. "Mommy? Where are we going?"
"On an adventure, baby."
"What kind of adventure?"
I start the engine, watching the pack house disappear in my rearview mirror. "The kind where it's just you and me for a while. Is that okay?"
Lyra thinks about this seriously. She's always been too smart for her age, too aware. "Is Daddy coming?"
The question is a knife. "No, sweetheart. Not this time."
"Good." Her little voice is matter-of-fact. "He makes you sad. I don't like when you're sad."
I have to pull over because I can't see through the tears. My seven-year-old daughter has been watching me break apart, and I thought I was covering it so well.
"I love you," I tell her strongly. "So, so much."
"I know, Mommy. You tell me every day." She yawns. "Daddy never says it. Not even once."
She falls asleep before we reach the border, small and trusting in the back seat. I drive through Marcus's gap in the watch, and the moment I cross the territory line, something in my chest rips apart.
The mate bond. Stretching. Screaming.
Dante will feel this. He'll know I've left his territory. He'll know I'm serious.
My phone buzzes. Fifteen missed calls. All from him.
I throw the phone out the window.
The road ahead is dark and empty. No plan except away. No goal except anywhere he isn't. The tank is full. I have my emergency credit card. I have my baby.
I have nothing and everything at the same time.
We drive for two hours before I see the headlights behind us. Far back but getting fast. Too fast.
My blood turns to ice.
He's coming. Dante is hunting us.
I press the gas pedal down, but my little car is no match for whatever he's driving. The headlights get closer. Closer. I can see it now—his black SUV, the one built for Alpha business, for pack terror, for running down prey.
For catching runaway mates.
"Mommy?" Lyra stirs in the back, feeling my panic. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep."
But there's everything wrong. We're on a straight road with nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide. He's going to catch us. Going to drag us back. Going to—
A car emerges from a side road, cutting smoothly between us and Dante's SUV. It's sleek and metal and moves like a predator.
My phone—the new one I grabbed from the glove compartment—rings.
Unknown number.
My hand shakes as I answer. "Hello?"
"Drive straight for exactly three more miles." The voice is female, old, strong. " Then turn left at the broken oak tree. Follow that road. Don't stop. Don't look back. My driver will handle the angry Alpha behind you."
"Who is this?"
"Someone who's been waiting a very long time for you to stop being a fool and come home, granddaughter."
The line goes dead.
Granddaughter?
Behind us, Dante's SUV tries to pass the silver car. It blocks him expertly, dangerously. I see his headlights swerve, hear the squeal of tires.
Three miles. Broken oak tree. Left turn.
I drive.