Four stabs to my stomach didn't slow me down as I broke free.
Ten seconds had passed, I was sure, but the wounds were still there.
Where was Lily, my wolf?
Was she really going to let my mate put a hand through our chest?
The wind brushed past my face as I sprinted through the trees.
Sharp, unforgiving branches left marks on me.
My bare legs bled as I ran.
My throbbing head split the road before me into two.
As the wind slowed, the clock far away chimed.
Twelve a.m.
Our anniversary.
To think that just yesterday morning, my mate held me in his arms, twirling me to a classic tune — our favorite.
His hand had slid to my waist as he drew closer.
Our lips met. Hot, intense, wet.
And of course we fucked.
Right there on the counter as I turned off the stove.
A peck had landed on my head that morning too.
Not from my mate, but from my son.
I couldn't remember the last time he'd done that.
My throat tightened, eyes wet… and I put more food on his plate.
Watching my mate and son enjoy their meals filled my heart.
Our love had overcome the test of time.
This week would be different.
I was sure.
Our ritual of hugs and kisses that had grown weary over the past six months was suddenly revived.
My mate, Mathew, had woken us up that Sunday morning for family bonding.
When was the last time we'd been together as a family?
Mathew was an Alpha.
His workload doubled when I was stripped of my Luna duties.
When he wasn't working, he was investigating to prove my innocence.
And my son spent hours at school, studying to ace his university entrance exams.
So when I tried to make them stay for breakfast, or hold my son a while longer and they wouldn't let me…
when they called to say they'd miss dinner, sometimes stay out all night…
I understood.
But this mansion held only me.
Breakfast, lunch, dinner —
I ate on my own.
My shadows accompanied me wherever I went.
The council elders believed I had betrayed the pack by selling company secrets to our opponent.
The bank records were solid.
My fingerprint on every document.
My signature authentic.
All evidence pointed to me.
But it wasn't me.
Yet they wouldn't listen.
I was publicly shamed and stripped of my Luna duties.
Back then, the first and only one to strike me was my husband.
His fist had come before the words did.
I didn't see it.
I just felt my body lift off the ground, then the wall, hard against my spine.
Something cracked inside me.
Not broke. Cracked.
Like ice splitting on a frozen lake.
I tried to breathe.
Couldn't.
My lungs seized.
Every attempt to pull in air sent fire through my ribs.
Three of them. They had snapped like dry branches under his boot.
The ground was cold when I hit it.
My hands pressed against the floor, trying to push myself up.
They shook.
Lily, I called to my wolf.
She was there.
Warmth spread through the cracks in my ribs.
The pain didn't vanish; it just… dulled.
I could breathe again.
Shallow.
Painful.
But breathing.
Mathew's face was above me now.
His eyes — I'd seen those eyes soft with love a thousand times.
Now they were wild.
Animal.
Then that night, he was on his knees.
Hitting himself.
His fists slammed into his own face.
Once.
Twice.
Blood burst from his nose, ran down his chin.
His knuckles split open against his cheekbone.
"I'm sorry," he choked out between blows. "I had to. They would've taken you. Jailed you. I had to make it look…"
His hands, covered in blood.
His blood this time, not mine.
And something in my chest shifted.
He did this for me, I thought.
He hurt me to save me.
The moon goddess had blessed me.
Given me a mate who loved me enough to break himself so I wouldn't be taken away.
How I wish I had known then what I know now.
That love doesn't break your ribs.
That the man who hits you first will always find a reason to do it again.
The maids sent in meals late after that.
Sometimes cold, sometimes half done.
The tray would appear outside my door with a thud.
No knock.
I opened the door once to find Jessica, the head maid, turning away.
"Jessica," I called.
She didn't stop.
"Jessica, please. The food yesterday was—"
"We're busy, ma'am."
The word ma'am sounded like an insult.
The next day, I found my breakfast on the floor.
The tray tipped over.
Eggs spilled across the marble.
Orange juice pooling near the doorframe.
I got on my knees and cleaned it up myself.
When I brought the tray back to the kitchen, three maids stood by the counter.
Their conversation stopped the moment I walked in.
"I'll just leave this here," I said quietly.
No one responded.
I set the tray down.
Turned to leave.
"Can't even eat properly anymore," one of them muttered. "Throwing food around like an animal."
"Probably guilty," another whispered.
"Why else would she be hiding in that mansion?"
I didn't turn around.
Just kept walking.
After that, I sent them away.
Then stopped going downstairs for meals.
I stayed in my room.
Curtains drawn.
No sunlight.
The darkness felt safer somehow.
I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling.
Counted the cracks in the plaster.
"Moon Goddess," I whispered into the dark. "Why me?"
No answer.
"What did I do to deserve this?"
"Please. Just tell me. Tell me why my mate wouldn't touch me.
Why my son barely looked at me.
Why everyone thought I was guilty when I didn't do anything."
The room stayed quiet.
I asked her every day.
Sometimes in the morning.
Sometimes at night.
Why me?
She never answered.
But yesterday, I didn't ask.
I replayed our favorite song as I cleaned the house.
I smelled his suit as I twirled.
Then I waltzed down the stairs.
I stood close to the window and gazed at sunflowers blooming so brightly.
Then the moon goddess decided to answer me.
That afternoon.
On the eve of my anniversary.
I really wished she hadn't.