Chapter 8

I had no idea how much time passed before I woke to the sound of sirens and hurried voices. People moved around me, checking my injuries and telling me that I was fortunate to have survived.

I didn't feel fortunate.

At the hospital, the doctors treated my wounds and insisted that I remain under observation, but I refused. There was nothing left for me there. So I returned to the glass house by myself.

Damon had built that place for me, down to the smallest detail, because he once believed he knew exactly what would make me happy. Yet when I stepped inside, it no longer felt like my home.

Bianca had lived there for only two months, but somehow her presence had spread everywhere. Her clothes occupied my dressing room, her belongings filled the music room, and her scent lingered in spaces that had once belonged entirely to me.

Even the wooden carving I had made for Damon was lying crooked on the floor. I remembered how carefully he had held it years ago, as though the little handmade gift were something precious.

I stared at it for a long time.

Had he really cried when I gave it to him?

Or had that been another performance?

Outside, the night had already deepened. An entire day and night had passed, yet Damon still hadn't returned.

Of course he hadn't.

He was with Bianca.

I almost laughed at the thought, though there was nothing amusing about it. Slowly, I wiped the dried blood from my lips before taking the documents I had prepared and placing them inside the mailbox at the entrance.

The first report concerned the bouquet Bianca had given me the previous day.

My fingers trembled as I unfolded the paper.

The flowers hadn't been harmless.

They had been infused with intoxicating spices, powerful enough to provoke the bear and shadow lynx into a frenzy. That was why they had suddenly turned on me.

It hadn't been some unfortunate accident.

Someone had planned it.

And Damon had never questioned it. He hadn't noticed the strange scent, hadn't investigated what happened, and hadn't even seemed suspicious when I nearly died.

My fingers tightened around the next document until the pages crumpled.

It was my hospital report.

The miscarriage.

My baby.

The child I had lost while Damon chose Bianca yet again.

Suddenly, the memories came rushing back: the rogue wolves, the freezing cage, the pain, and Damon standing there while I suffered because Bianca needed to be protected.

Then came the silver whip.

He had allowed me to be beaten nearly to death while Bianca stood safely on the other side of his concern, all under the excuse of giving her an apology she supposedly deserved.

And now I understood the pattern.

Twice, because of his choices, I had lost a child.

My hand closed around the third item.

The broken diamond ring.

Damon had chosen it himself in Africa five years ago, taking his time to find the perfect stone and have it polished until it caught the light beautifully. He had once told me that the ring represented his patience, his devotion, and the promise that his love would last forever.

He had sworn that I was the only woman he would ever want.

Now, the ring was nothing more than another reminder of how convincing a lie could look when it was dressed up as love.

I stared at the broken pieces in my palm.

“Damon,” I whispered bitterly, “so it really was you. All of it came back to you.”

The roar of a helicopter suddenly broke through the silence.

I looked toward the sky and saw a familiar face leaning out from the aircraft.

“Are you coming or not, Alice?” Evander called.

I hesitated before forcing myself to smile.

“Evander, do you have a lighter?”

He whistled and tossed a small box toward me.

“That’s the only thing I have.”

“That’ll do.”

I caught it tightly.

My hands were trembling so badly that I nearly dropped it.

Then I began walking toward the glass house.

Every step hurt. My legs still ached from my injuries, and every breath seemed to drag another memory from the past behind it.

This house had once been filled with our laughter, our music, and all the warmth I thought belonged to us.

Tonight, it would hold something else.

Fire.

I thought of Damon's hands, the way they had once touched me so carefully, and the nights when I had believed the bond between us was something sacred. I remembered the Alpha who had claimed me and convinced me that I would always be the only woman in his heart.

My throat tightened.

My eyes burned.

There was a hollow space inside my chest where something precious had once lived, but I knew what I had to do.

I raised the matchbox and touched my fingers to the mark on my neck.

His mark.

The moment I touched it, pain shot through me.

I gritted my teeth and faced the glass house one final time.

“My name is Luna Arianne Whitmore,” I said quietly. “And before this night ends, I reject you, Alpha Damon Callahan. Whatever bond exists between us, I sever it now. You are no longer my mate.”

The pain came instantly.

It surged through my body like electricity, burning through my veins and tearing at something deep inside me. My body convulsed as I gripped the mark, but I refused to release it.

I could feel the bond resisting me.

For years, it had tied me to Damon, carrying every promise, every memory, and every piece of love I had given him.

Now I tore it away.

My lungs burned. Tears mixed with sweat and blood along my cheeks, but I kept going until I felt the connection finally break.

Something inside me went silent.

I struck the match.

Then I threw it toward the glass house.

The flames caught almost immediately.

Fire raced through the rooms Damon had designed for me, climbing the walls and devouring everything in its path. Windows shattered beneath the heat, and the roof eventually gave way.

The place where I had once laughed, dreamed, and believed myself loved disappeared behind a wall of flames.

Smoke filled the air, carrying the scent of burning wood and memories.

I watched as everything Damon had given me vanished.

His promises.

His gifts.

Our memories.

His lies.

I let them all burn.

Behind me, Evander's voice remained calm.

“Arianne, are you alright?”

I nodded.

“I’m fine.”

My voice was quiet, but this time I meant what I said.

“I’m free.”

He didn't try to comfort me or tell me that I was making a mistake.

He understood.

I looked back at the burning glass house one last time.

For a moment, there was only emptiness.

A cold, painful void where my life with Damon had once been.

But I turned away.

One step after another, I walked toward the helicopter.

When I climbed aboard, the engine roared beneath me, and the wind immediately swept through my hair. Behind us, the burning house grew smaller, its flames flickering against the darkness like the final remnants of a life I no longer wanted.

I looked ahead.

“Goodbye, Damon,” I whispered. “And goodbye to every promise you ever made me.”

The helicopter rose into the night and carried me toward the ocean.

As the glass house disappeared behind us, I finally let the wind take whatever remained of the woman Damon thought he could keep forever.

I was leaving.

This time, he would never find me.