Chapter2
Alpha Thomas had told me he’d be out of the Blue Moon Pack for a “business trip.”
“Just a couple of days,” he’d said, pressing a kiss to my forehead–just like the perfect doting husband act. “I’ll miss you.”
I smiled, lips curving in the way I knew he liked -the sweet, affectionate wife. I waved him off, watching his car disappear down the driveway, and the second it was out of sight, I locked the door behind me with a soft click.
It was time to work.
The past few days, I’d been watching him. Studying him. Learning his habits, the way he
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protected the things most important to him.
The moment I set foot inside the house, the mission was clear: find out the safe he’d been
hiding.
It didn’t take long before I uncovered the safe, cleverly concealed behind a generic landscape painting in his office in his office.
The code? Laughably predictable. Audrey Hopkins’s birthday.
I entered the code, hearing the faint beep of success followed by the satisfying click of the lock.
Inside, it was exactly what I’d imagined. Neat. Organized. Sickeningly so. My stomach churned
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as I rifled through the documents. At the top was a stack of hospital records–binding agreements for organ donation, surgical logs, and the paperwork that proved Thomas had authorized the transfer of my mother’s organ to Audrey’s sister.
I felt the burn behind my eyes, the anger rising in me. My claws itched beneath my skin, a sudden flare of rage threatening to overwhelm me. But I shoved it down. No. Not yet.
Beneath the medical files were financial records -each transaction meticulously categorized. Business expenses, the receipts claimed. But I wasn’t stupid anymore. Every dollar spent- luxury vacations, jewelry, designer wardrobes- had been for Audrey. And that wasn’t even the worst of it.
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The second stack of receipts–my receipts- sickened me. The necklaces. The rings. The dresses. I had worn them all, once believing they were symbols of his love, his devotion. But no. They were just cheap trinkets compared to the real treasures he’d lavished upon Audrey.
Somehow, it hurt more than I’d anticipated. A weight settled in my chest, suffocating and raw. The reality hit me harder than I expected. I was nothing to him. Never had been. I was just… a placeholder. A convenient decoy to conceal an obsession he never intended to leave behind.
I sank to the floor, surrounded by the evidence of his lies. For one fractured moment, the tears broke free, hot and bitter as they streaked down my cheeks.
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But then… I clenched my fists.
No more. I was done crying.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, pulled out my phone, and meticulously began documenting everything. The hospital agreements. The payment records. The damning receipts. Every single detail.
Near the bottom of the safe, tucked neatly into a corner, was a folder labeled Future Assets. My breath caught as I studied its contents: real estate investments, property deeds, insurance policies. I captured those too.
When I was done, I replaced everything with careful precision, leaving no trace of my
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intrusion.
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And then, without sparing a single glance backward, I left the house.
The lawyer was next on my list.
When I walked into his office unannounced, he glanced up, startled. “Luna Camille! I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I need a divorce agreement,” I said, my voice steady, cold.
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Does Alpha Thomas-”
“No,” I interrupted sharply. “He doesn’t know. And I’d like to keep it that way. For now.”
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He hesitated, the hesitation thick in his silence. Then, with a resigned nod, he pulled out
a folder and slid it across the desk. “We’ve
already drafted a template. All that’s left is your signature.”
I skimmed the contents quickly. Every section was clean, airtight. The moment I reached the bottom of the page, I signed my name without wavering.
“Send it to him after I’m gone,” I instructed firmly. “Not a minute sooner.”
“Gone?” His confusion deepened.
But I had no intentions of explaining. I stood, clutching my bag, and walked out without
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another word.
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My next destination was far less polished. Tucked deep in a nondescript alleyway, the building looked as though it had been forgotten by time. The faded sign above the door was almost illegible, but I knew I was in the right place.
This was where people like me went to disappear.
The door creaked when I pushed it open, releasing a stale smell of cigarettes and damp paper. A hooded man sat behind the counter, his expression unreadable as his dark eyes flicked toward me.
“You lost?” His voice was rough, skeptical.
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“No.” I dropped the word like a stone. “I need your services.”
He leaned forward slightly, studying me. “What kind of services?”
“I want to disappear,” I said, my resolve unshaken. “Completely.”
His brow lifted, though his eyes narrowed with intrigue. “You sure you understand what you’re asking for?”
“I do.”
His lips curled into an amused smirk. “And what makes you think I can help?”
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I reached into my bag, pulling out the thick stack of cash I’d prepared. Crisp, unmarked. It landed on the counter with a satisfying weight.
His smirk grew wider. “Now we’re talkin“”
He gestured for me to follow, leading me into a back room humming with machinery. Monitors covered every inch of the walls, flickering with grainy feeds and digital maps.
“Here’s the deal,” he began, his tone turning clinical. “You choose the method. Car crash, drowning, overdose–whatever fits. We stage it. Make sure it’s airtight. Once the process is complete, we’ll supply you with new identification, a new life. You’ll be untraceable. Ghosted.”
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I nodded, my decision already made. “I want it staged as a suicide,” I said. “Something clean, believable. No loose ends.”
He handed me a clipboard thick with forms. “Fill these out. We’ll take care of the rest.”
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