Chapter 5

I numbly picked up the note and dragged my aching body to the address written on it.

It led me to a small pawnshop on the edge of the neutral zone. The owner, a short, sly man, said nothing when I told him why I was there. He simply pulled out the Moonstone Luna Pendant.

He had obviously been told in advance.

Sophia must've arranged everything.

I didn't feel much—not anger, not sadness. I just wanted to return the pendant to Kieran and be done with it. No more debts. No more ties.

But as I reached out for it, the shop owner let go too early.

With a sharp "crack," the delicate silver pendant hit the floor. The moonstone shattered on impact.

I froze. My face went pale.

The shop owner gasped. "Miss, you should be more careful! That was a sacred heirloom! Not my fault!"

"Nora!"

Kieran's furious voice rang out behind me.

I whipped around and met Sophia's smug, triumphant eyes.

She was gripping Kieran's arm.

"I told you," she said sweetly. "Nora did it on purpose."

"She hates you so much that she shattered Mother's pendant just to spite you, and you still talk about forgiving her?"

Kieran didn't respond. He stared at the broken moonstone on the floor like it had punched the air out of his lungs. Slowly, he walked over and crouched stiffly. His hands trembled as he picked up the shattered pieces one by one, curling them into his palm.

"It wasn't me," I said, panic crawling up my throat. "He dropped it. I never sold it. I never sold Mom's necklace…"

I couldn't watch him like that—helpless, broken. Something inside me cracked, and I tried to explain.

But the moment I spoke, he shot to his feet and slapped me hard.

The sound echoed. My body twisted and hit the floor, graceless and pathetic.

Pain stabbed through my stomach. My cheek burned. Tears streamed down my face—unwanted, unstoppable.

Kieran's chest heaved. His face was a mask of rage and betrayal.

"How dare you, Nora!" he roared. "I've given you five years! I told myself, if you came back and told me where Mom's pendant was, I'd forgive you."

"But what did you do? What have you done?!"

"Nora, you're not worthy of the Harrington name. You're not my sister!"

His voice cracked. His eyes were red. He had lost control.

I felt my heart drop into a bottomless pit.

A metallic taste rose in my throat. I swallowed hard, forcing the blood back down.

Then I choked out, "What if I really am dying?"

He glared at me like I was filth.

"Enough," he spat, tightening his fist around the shards until blood spilled from between his fingers. "Even if you die, I won't feel a damn thing."

"Fine."

I clenched my fists and staggered to my feet.

In that moment, something cleared inside me.

I was dying anyway.

All the debts, all the grudges—none of it mattered anymore.

If he thought I was the one who ruined everything, then let it be. Let the blame stay with me.

Once I was dead, nothing would matter.

I gave a bitter smile, turned, and walked out of the shop.

Behind me, Kieran shouted, "Where the hell are you going? Are you trying to piss me off until I drop dead?"

I didn't look back. My voice floated behind me.

"Don't worry. You'll never see me again."

---

For the next two days, Kieran didn't contact me.

He took the broken necklace to an occult consultant in Palo Alto, hoping to restore it. But no matter what they tried, the pendant had lost all its magic. It would never be the same again.

Staring at the dull, lifeless gem, he was livid.

On the first day, he did something he'd never done before. He made a public announcement to the Bay Area Werewolf Council.

On camera, his face was cold, and his expression was unreadable.

"From today onward," he said, voice flat, "I will no longer be responsible for anything related to Nora Harrington. She can do whatever she wants—even serve as a blood donor to vampires. I won't interfere."

"And I don't want to hear her name again. It disgusts me."

The media exploded. But Kieran moved quickly. He had my name erased from the Harrington family registry.

The very next day, he took Sophia to the family graveyard in Hillsborough.

He changed her surname and officially recognized her as the Harrington family's eldest daughter.

One of the relatives frowned and asked, "Isn't that a bit extreme? Nora is your real sister. What if something happens to her? Being a Rogue out there isn't easy."

Kieran pressed his lips into a thin line and said with a sneer, "What could possibly happen? I've crushed her for five years, and she's still crawling around."

"Werewolves are tough. She won't die. She doesn't have the guts. She wouldn't dare face our mother."

But once again, he was wrong.

I was standing right beside him.

As a ghost.

I had already been dead for two days—my body lying cold at the bottom of San Francisquito Creek, just outside the Harrington estate.

It had hurt too much. Everything hurt.

Dying was a relief.

What I didn't expect was what happened on the third day.

Kieran got a call from the cremation service.

Victor Hale, the owner, was practically shouting through the phone.

"You're Nora Harrington's emergency contact, aren't you? Didn't think you could dodge this, did you?"

"Your sister paid for her own urn, but didn't finish the last payment!"