Chapter 2
It was late in the evening when Sylvia closed her door, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She inserted sound–dampening earplugs, blocking out the distant thrum of celebration and laughter from below. The decision to return and accept her arranged mating to a powerful Alpha was final–no turning back. But leaving the Bloodmoon Pack wasn’t something she could rush. There were duties to fulfill, loose ends to tie up, all without raising any suspicion.
She turned toward the tall window, her gaze drifting over the forest that stretched beyond the pack’s territory. The darkened woods seemed endless, offering a stark contrast to the life she had once envisioned here. Hours later, having finished everything she could, she stretched her tired limbs and removed
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the earplugs, the peaceful silence wrapping around her like a blanket.
Just then, her phone buzzed with a new message. Phoebe.
“Why don’t you ever like my stories?” it read. A minute later, another message followed: “Oh, I’m sorry, Sylvia! That was sent by mistake. Don’t be mad?”
Sylvia shook her head, sensing the passive–aggressive jab beneath Phoebe’s innocent words. She knew Phoebe wanted her to see something. Curiosity prickled at her, and with a resigned sigh, she opened Phoebe’s pack stories. The images flooded her screen.
The first was a picture of Phoebe, surrounded by lavish gifts from Elio. Her smile was wide, her eyes sparkling with an
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innocence that seemed almost too perfect. Her hand rested lightly on her slightly rounded belly, and she wore a soft pink maternity dress, delicate as rose petals. Elio stood beside her, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made Sylvia’s stomach twist.
There was more. A silver pendant, handcrafted by Elio, shaped like a crescent moon cradling a tiny wolf pup. It was meant to symbolize their unborn child, their heir. Another image showed a set of plush baby blankets, embroidered with the pack’s crest, and a carved wooden cradle Elio had commissioned–sturdy, elegant, the perfect cradle for a future legacy.
But it was the final image that held Sylvia’s attention, making her pulse quicken.
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Phoebe, framed by Elio’s arms, the caption beneath reading:
“Feeling so loved as we prepare for our little miracle!”
Sylvia felt the old bitterness rise within her, a familiar taste that threatened to consume her, but she quickly stifled it. Phoebe could have it all, if that was what Elio truly wanted. In a week, none of this would matter.
With a slow exhale, she tapped a heart emoji on Phoebe’s post, an odd sense of lightness washing over her. From this moment forward, her connections to Elio and Phoebe would hold no weight. They would mean nothing.
The following morning, Sylvia finished her duties at the pack’s intelligence office, double–checking that everything was in
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order. When she returned home, she went straight for the box of old photographs- memories of her years with Elio. She sifted through the images, each one worn, the edges frayed and the faces faded. They had shared everything: school adventures, their first shifting ceremonies, holidays, family trips–the kind of memories that once feit like they could never fade. But now, they were just remnants of a past she couldn’t hold onto any longer.
With a steadying breath, she carried the stack to the old stone fireplace. One by one, she threw the photographs into the flames. She watched them curl, blacken, and disintegrate into ash. Each picture, each memory, was a part of the life she was finally willing to let go of.
Just as the last photo was consumed by the fire, Elio entered the room. He stopped dead
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at the sight, his eyes flashing with disbelief. Within a heartbeat, he crossed the room, grabbing her wrist with a force that made her flinch.
“Sylvia, what the hell are you doing?” he growled, his gaze flicking between her and the burning remnants of their past.
His brows furrowed in distress as he reached for a half–burned photo, but he pulled his hand back sharply as the flames hissed up, scorching his fingers with blistering heat.
“Why are you burning them? These are our memories!” His voice cracked, a flash of red seeping into his eyes as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.
Sylvia met his gaze with calm detachment, slipping her wrist free from his grip. “They’re old memories, Elio. It’s time to let go”
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Elio’s icy glare softened slightly, a flicker of uncertainty passing through his eyes. He wasn’t sure what to make of this, but Sylvia had long since stopped needing his approval. She knew, deep down, that one day, he would choose Phoebe over her once more -as if he had never known her at all. Phoebe, who had slowly wormed her way into every
Corner of their lives. Elio could wound her
over and over for Phoebe’s sake, but when a few photographs went up in flames, suddenly, he cared.
Sylvia almost wanted to laugh. Instead, she lifted her chin, her heart steeled with the certainty that she was doing the right thing.
Now, she couldn’t help but wonder how would he react when he learned about her arranged mateship?
