Chapter 4
“…Alpha Arthur, Luna is gone.”
The words hit me like a hammer to the chest. I looked up slowly from my desk, my fingers frozen mid–air above a document I hadn’t been reading. My eyes met my Beta’s, and for a second, I hoped he was mistaken. Joking, even. But his expression was solemn. Almost… apologetic.
My breath caught. “What did you say?”
My Beta hesitated, then repeated, a little softer this time. “Luna has left, sir. She… she packed her suitcase and left the estate this morning.”
A strange ringing filled my ears. I stood up too fast, the chair scraping sharply against the floor. “You’re lying.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” He took a small, neatly folded object from his jacket and extended it toward me. “She left this for you.”
I took it with a frown, hands trembling without my permission. The paper was light–almost too light for what it carried. My gaze fell on the bold, unmistakable title stamped across the
top:
DIVORCE AGREEMENT.
The words screamed at me.
I stared at the document in disbelief.
I read it, then reread it. No–this couldn’t be real. Cara? My Cara? Giving me a divorce
agreement?
No. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t..
I had assumed she wanted to make peace. Just two nights ago, she brought me soup and
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tucked a blanket over my lap without a word. Last week, she left a note in the kitchen with my favorite breakfast. I thought… I really thought she was trying.
My wolf, Bob, whimpered at the back of my mind. His tail, once twitching with anticipation,
went still.
“She’s leaving us?” he asked quietly, ears drooping.
“Shut up,” I snapped, my voice sharper than intended. “I won’t allow this.”
“You’d better mean that,” Bob muttered, curling up into a sulking heap in my chest, nose tucked under his tail. “She’s serious this time.”
My Beta cleared his throat cautiously, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Alpha Arthur… before she left, Luna said you should drink the coffee she made and then… sign the papers.‘
I looked at the table beside me. The coffee cup sat there, still steaming faintly. My fingers
clenched into fists.
She had made me coffee?
I picked it up and sniffed. Burnt. Bitter. I couldn’t smell a hint of the cinnamon she used to
add, knowing I liked it that way.
“Pour it out,” I snapped coldly. “That’s not coffee. It’s footbath water. Don’t ever serve me
this filth again.”
My Beta looked stunned. “But, Alpha… just earlier, you said it was the best coffee you’ve had
in weeks.”
“Get. Out.”
“Of course. Right away, Alpha Arthur.” He bowed and scurried out, clutching the cup as if afraid I might throw it at his head.
I turned back to the paper and flipped through the pages.
No demands. No alimony. No property claims. She wasn’t asking for a single thing. Just a
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clean break.
I gave a cold laugh, a brittle sound even to my own ears.
1
She really had some pride, didn’t she? Walking away without taking a cent. As if she’d make
it on her own.
She was from the countryside–a nobody from a remote pack we absorbed five years ago. A naïve little she–wolf who barely knew how to use a credit card, let alone survive in the city.
What was she going to do? Hunt rabbits in the woods?
She’d die in a week. Maybe two, if she got lucky with berries.
And her wolf was weak. Barely stronger than a house pet. She couldn’t outrun a rabbit if her life depended on it. I had seen her trip over her own feet during a pack run.
What had happened to the girl who clung to my arm and begged for this marriage, who fought tooth and claw to take Lucy’s place at my side? Wasn’t it all about the wealth, the
name, the power?
And now she was leaving that behind? Had she lost her mind?
Then my eyes caught something else–handwritten, in blue ink, near the bottom of the last page. A note. Her handwriting.
I read it once, then again, then again, my vision blurring with rage.
“Because Alpha Arthur is physically weak, incapable of erection, unable to mate with me, and therefore cannot give me pups, I have decided–after careful consideration–to end our
mate bond.
I sincerely hope the Moon Goddess blesses him with a very special partner–someone who
doesn’t need sex (or doesn’t need him to get it up).
Good luck!”
I couldn’t breathe.
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clean break.
I gave a cold laugh, a brittle sound even to my own ears.
She really had some pride, didn’t she? Walking away without taking a cent. As if she’d make
it on her own.
She was from the countryside–a nobody from a remote pack we absorbed five years ago. A
naïve little she–wolf who barely knew how to use a credit card, let alone survive in the city.
What was she going to do? Hunt rabbits in the woods?
She’d die in a week. Maybe two, if she got lucky with berries.
And her wolf was weak. Barely stronger than a house pet. She couldn’t outrun a rabbit if
her life depended on it. I had seen her trip over her own feet during a pack run.
What had happened to the girl who clung to my arm and begged for this marriage, who
fought tooth and claw to take Lucy’s place at my side? Wasn’t it all about the wealth, the
name, the power?
で
And now she was leaving that behind? Had she lost her mind?
Then my eyes caught something else–handwritten, in blue ink, near the bottom of the last page. A note. Her handwriting.
I read it once, then again, then again, my vision blurring with rage.
“Because Alpha Arthur is physically weak, incapable of erection, unable to mate with me,
and therefore cannot give me pups, I have decided–after careful consideration–to end our
mate bond.
I sincerely hope the Moon Goddess blesses him with a very special partner–someone who doesn’t need sex (or doesn’t need him to get it up).
Good luck!”
I couldn’t breathe.
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I dropped the paper as if it burned.
This–this little she–wolf–she dared?!
Didn’t she know the consequences of writing something like this? Everyone would see it.
According to the Werewolf Marriage Statutes, all reasons for divorce had to be published publicly on the Elder Council’s bulletin wall. Every pack leader, every alpha, every nosy omega would read it.
She wanted to humiliate me. She wanted the whole damn world to know that Arthur of the Whitefangs couldn’t get it up.
My wolf Bob yelped. “Lies! We can get it up! Just last night—”
“Shut. Up.”
I could feel a vein pulsing in my forehead. My hands shook as I grabbed my phone, unlocked it with a furious swipe, and dialed her number.
It rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Each second felt like someone was driving claws into my spine.
Finally, on the fifth ring, it connected.
“Hello?”
Her voice. Calm. Light. Free.
“Cara,” I said, biting each word. “Come back. The coffee this morning was disgusting. Brew another.”
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A pause. Then laughter.
Not the soft giggle she used to hide behind her hands. No–this was rich, loud, and sharp
like a blade.
“You think I’ll come back just because you say so? I’m not your Luna anymore. Why would I brew coffee for you? Am I your maid?”
I stared at the wall in disbelief. This–this couldn’t be the same woman I married. Cara
never raised her voice. Never answered back. Where had this fire come from?
I kept my tone even, refusing to lose face. “The reason for divorce. You get one chance to
rewrite it.”
Her laughter grew louder. It cut into me.
“Why? Did I lie? Arthur, you’ve been awake for half a year now. Not once have you touched me. Not even held my hand. You were in a coma for three years, and sure, you’ve healed physically–but I have every reason to believe something down there didn’t survive the trip
back.”
I gritted my teeth.
“You’re not working, Arthur. You need a doctor. Honestly, my parting gift to you is this: may your manhood rise again.”
I said nothing. Couldn’t say anything. My vision was red.
“You’re crazy if you think I’ll ever forget this,” I growled. “One day, I’ll show you what I’m really capable of.”
“Too bad,” she snapped back. “You won’t get the chance.”
And then she laughed again–pure, unrestrained, triumphant.
In three years of marriage, I had never heard her laugh like that.
Not once.
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“Cara!” I shouted, “You get back-!”
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