Chapter 4

Asher's brows eased—he thought I'd bent.

I stepped up and met Viola's eyes. “I'm sorry, Viola. Sorry I treated you like a sister. Sorry I begged my parents to take you in when yours died. Sorry I shared everything—my clothes, my room, my…”

I paused; my gaze cut to Asher.

“…my lover.”

Her face bleached. She hadn't expected that.

“But most of all,” I raised my voice so all could hear, “I'm sorry I ever believed we were family.”

I turned to the pyre and pulled out the last token—a crescent pendant he gave me on our first anniversary.

“You wanted a keepsake, Asher?” I said softly, tossing it into the blaze. “Fetch it from the ash with your new luna.”

Cries chased me as I left the square. Fire devoured the last thing I'd kept—and my last retreat.

Tomorrow the rumors would write themselves: crazy Leona burned her memories and hurt innocent Viola; even the alpha burned his hands trying to stop her.

Let them talk.

Tonight I buried the Leona who loved Asher.

Tomorrow a new wolf would rise—one who would not kneel.

I didn't expect him to come in the morning I left—alone.

He stood in the doorway. He didn't enter. “The carriage is ready. Do you need an escort?”

So distant—fitting. Making sure I obeyed. I zipped my last case. “Do you need to watch?”

He sighed. “Leona, don't. When this is over, I'll bring you back. You know it's necessary. For the pack—”

“—Pack first. I've heard enough.” I hefted the suitcase. “Tell your luna her seat, her man, her perfect plan—I'm not interested.”

He gripped my arm. “Don't speak of her that way. She defended you—though you never gave her kindness.”

“I heard every rumor these three days,” I said, looking at his hand on me. “Every version says I'm not enough—too wild, too fragile, too mad for luna.”

I lifted my eyes to his. “Only one says the truth: you didn't choose her because she's better. You chose her because she's easier to control.”

His pupils cut tight. “You don't know what you're saying.”

“You know it perfectly.” I shook him off. “You feared a mate who wouldn't kneel. So you picked the one who will always look up—Viola.”

Anger cracked his mask. “Watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” I glanced at the clock. “Three hours and I'm free. How long does your alpha voice reach, Asher?”

We stared—eight years tight as a wire between us, singing as it snapped. For a breath I thought he might argue. Apologize.

He didn't. He stepped back. “East gate. Three hours,” he said, and left.

I drew a long breath and raised my comm-stone. “Mother? I'm early. The birches in one hour.”

A beat. “Are you sure? The pain—”

“Beats staying,” I said, watching women point at my window. “Tell them to be ready. I'm going to be free by nightfall.”

I lifted the case.

Rumors won't cease. Hurt won't vanish. But in three hours Asher would wait at the east gate—and I would not come.

He would get a legend: how his former mate walked into the birches and tore their bond apart.

When I walked out, I would no longer be his Leona.

I'd be a wolf who belonged to herself.