It was a live photo. The setting was unmistakably Ronan’s quarters, the massive wolf-engraved bed in the background. Violet lounged on the bed in a silk camisole, her slender fingers trailing over a man’s muscular torso. When I clicked on the photo, it played, and I heard it—his voice.
“Ayla,” he had whispered countless times to me before, his tone always low and seductive.
But as the photo played, I realized something horrifying: the name he murmured wasn’t mine. It was hers.
Violet.
The truth was inescapable. The man I had loved, the Alpha I had devoted my life to, had never truly seen me. I was nothing more than a shadow of the woman he truly desired. My wolf growled low in my chest, the sound vibrating with anger and betrayal.
For ten years, I had allowed myself to be blinded by love. But now, under the cold light of day, I saw everything clearly. It was time to leave the Shadowclaw Pack for good—and never look back.
The next blood moon was rising, and this time, I would carve out a future on my own terms.
