Now, here I am, kneeling at my son’s grave with that same plushie clutched against my chest, like it’s the last piece of him I have. Tears stream down my face as I whisper, “I’ll keep my promise to you, baby. I swear.” My voice cracks, barely audible over the weight of my grief.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, snapping me out of my spiral. It’s Monica Severinus—my best friend and Evander’s sister. She’s sent me a picture.
And there he is. Alpha Mavros Avalon. My mate. Kallias’s father. The man who couldn’t be bothered to show up for his dying son. He’s at the festival. With her.
Vivian. My sister.
He chose her. Again.
The photo burns into my mind, igniting something in me that burns hotter than grief—fury. My hands tremble as I shove my phone back into my pocket. Without thinking, I storm upstairs, grabbing clothes and shoving them into a suitcase. The faint scent of him still lingers in the room, mocking me.
This house, this life—it’s all a lie. I yank open drawers, throwing anything and everything into the suitcase. My hands don’t stop until it’s full, and then I drag it down the stairs.
I freeze at the sound of laughter. Their laughter.