No More Us, Ex-Husband

The pack manor was unnaturally quiet when Thorne returned late that night with Rionna, Arion, and Axton. Their laughter echoed through the stone corridor as they struggled with the warded lock, still drunk on moonwine and the thrill of the evening.

After leaving the neutral-territory tavern, they had lingered far longer than they should have—celebrating without restraint.

Thorne entered first and snapped his fingers, triggering the light runes.

Nothing happened.

The corridor remained drowned in shadow.

“What the hell?” Thorne muttered, activating the sigils again.

The runes flared to life, revealing the great hall.

Chaos.

Cushions lay scattered across the floor. Dishes sat untouched on the long table. A faint trail of dried mud streaked toward the door. The manor looked abandoned, as though no one had tended to it all day.

Thorne’s jaw tightened. “What is this mess?” he snarled. “Rayna! Explain this—now!”

Silence answered him.

He turned sharply toward the stairs, but Rionna caught his arm, laughing lightly. “Relax,” she said. “Don’t ruin the night. She’s probably sulking again. Asleep, maybe.”

“She always does this when she wants attention,” Arion added, kicking off his boots.

Axton smirked. “Yeah. Leave her alone. She’ll clean it up by morning like she always does.”

Thorne hesitated. “But this place—”

Rionna tugged him closer, her voice lowering. “Come to bed,” she whispered against his ear. “Don’t let her spoil tonight.” She chuckled softly. “She’s probably hiding somewhere, pretending she still matters. You know how dramatic she is.”

That ended the discussion.

With one last glance at the stairs, Thorne allowed himself to be pulled away.

Inside the chamber, Rionna slowly unfastened her dress, letting it fall like a performance meant to be seen. “You know,” she murmured, looping her arms around his neck, “this used to be her room, didn’t it?” She smiled coldly. “Must hurt—realizing she’s been replaced, even here.”

Laughter soon dissolved into muffled sounds behind the sealed door.

The rest of the manor stayed dark and untended, while inside that room, Thorne erased Rayna’s existence with every touch and whispered mockery.

***

Morning sunlight pierced through the curtains.

Thorne groaned, then jolted upright. “Damn it—my council meeting!”

Rionna shifted lazily beside him. “What meeting?”

“You didn’t wake me,” he snapped.

She stretched. “I didn’t know I had to.”

He threw off the covers and dragged on his trousers. “Rayna should’ve woken me—where is she?”

Storming into the hall, he called out, “Rayna!”

No response.

His frown deepened.

He checked her chamber.

Empty.

The bed untouched. No scent. No presence.

That was when Arion and Axton emerged, still half-asleep.

“What’s wrong?” Arion asked.

“She’s gone,” Thorne said tightly. “She’s not here.”

“Maybe she went out early,” Rionna said lightly from behind him. “She’s probably sulking again.”

They went downstairs.

The kitchen was silent. No breakfast. No steaming cups of brew. No food warming on the hearth.

Nothing.

Thorne slammed his palm against the table. “She didn’t even cook?!”

He pulled out his rune-phone and called her.

No response.

“Unreachable,” he hissed. “Where the hell is she?”

Rionna twirled a strand of hair. “She probably went to buy supplies.”

“No,” Thorne said sharply. “That’s not her. She never leaves the manor untended. She never misses my meetings. She never skips meals—”

He stopped.

A sick realization crawled up his spine.

“Last night,” he muttered. “The dinner…”

“What dinner?” Axton asked.

“I told her I’d take her out.”

Rionna’s gaze shifted. “You think… she waited?”

“She wouldn’t,” Arion scoffed. “She’s not that desperate.”

“Yeah,” Axton laughed. “She knew you were just saying it to shut her up.”

But Thorne was already grabbing his keys.

***

He drove like a man possessed.

At the restaurant on neutral ground, he rushed inside.

“There was a woman here last night,” he said urgently to the server. “She’s my Luna, Rayna. Did she say anything? Did she wait?”

The woman nodded slowly. “Yes. The Luna waited for hours.” She handed him an envelope. “She left this for Alpha Thorne Ridgefern.”

His hands shook as he opened it.

Inside lay her mating ring.

A copy of their bond record—stamped Nullified.

And a single document.

A healer’s certificate.

Declaring the death of their unborn pup.

The world tilted.

“Before Luna Rayna left,” the woman added softly, “she asked me to give this to you. And tell you to never find her again.’”

Thorne stood frozen.

The envelope felt heavier than any burden he had ever carried.