When the Alpha Realized I Was No Longer His

Kaia’s POV

Ever since Marinal settled into the rooms that were once ours, everything between Alden and me shifted—quietly, like a storm changing direction before anyone noticed the sky darkening. He haunted the edges of my existence, torn between remorse and whatever twisted devotion he felt for her. Even during my cancer infusions, when I lay weak and aching in a sterile bed, he wasn’t there for me—he was beside her. Stroking her hair. Whispering comfort. Treating her like the Luna that I was.

He only learned about my cancer today. Not because he cared enough to ask—but because he finally overheard what he’d refused to listen to all this time.

And by then, I had stopped hoping. My heart had already slammed its gates shut.

That evening, after another wave of treatment left my bones aching like they were turning to dust, I dragged myself through the pack hospital halls. Every step felt like it scraped something raw inside me. The magic was harsh, fast, unforgiving—pushing me toward survival while draining the life right out of me.

I should have stayed away—gone anywhere but home. Yet somehow, instinct pulled me back to the place that once felt safe.

I walked the corridor toward the Alpha wing, half praying he wouldn’t be there and half terrified that he would. A warm glow spilled from beneath his door. Marinal’s voice floated through the crack, soft as sugar-coated venom.

“Alpha… may I wear the Moonspire Moonstone?” she murmured—sweet, innocent, pleading. “The one you gave Kaia when you pledged your lives together? I only want to feel cherished… just like she did.”

My breath hitched, and I pressed myself against the cold wall.

The Moonstone.

The Luna heirloom passed down generations—placed at my throat under moonlight as Alden vowed loyalty and forever. My symbol. My vow. My future.

I listened to history crumble in two sentences.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Alden whispered, a gentle tone that had once been mine. “It would look beautiful on you. At least until the baby arrives.”

A quiet kiss brushed her cheek. The impact felt like a blade sinking into my ribs.

Then his voice dipped low. “I’ll talk to Kaia. She’ll understand.”

That was the moment I finally felt the bond snap—not with a scream, but with a silence sharp enough to bleed.

Footsteps shuffled behind the door. Our eyes met in that sliver of light. And for the first time… I felt absolutely nothing for him.

I turned. My legs buckled, and the hallway spun. My wolf whimpered deep inside me—hurt, furious, abandoned.

Then everything blurred and I found myself pulled into his room, his hands steadying me.

“Kaia—did you hear—”

“Go ahead,” I interrupted softly. “Give it to her. Let her wear it as long as she likes.”

His brows lifted, shock flickering. “You… truly don’t mind?”

“I don’t,” I whispered.

Relief washed over him like he’d escaped a punishment he deserved. “I knew you’d be reasonable.”

He threaded his fingers through mine with false tenderness, as if he thought this half-hearted touch could erase betrayal. My gaze swept the room, landing on the small table where divorce documents—termination of Luna title and bond—sat unfolded and waiting.

He hadn’t even bothered to hide them.

“Alden.” My voice steadied. “Just sign.”

He blinked. “You’re sure? You don’t want—anything? No demands?”

I placed the papers in his hands. “Sign.”

He didn’t read. Not a single line. He simply scribbled his name—careless, blind, exactly as I expected.

When he set the pen down, he sighed. “I know you’re doing this for leverage. It’s fine. But don’t ever doubt your place here.” He touched my wrist lightly. “Or in my heart.”

A hollow smile curved my mouth. Lies taste bitter when you’ve stopped needing them.

I slowly unclasped the Moonstone at my throat. The chain slid over my fingers—cool, final. He stared, startled, but I placed it gently in his palm.

“She can have it,” I murmured. “Forever, if that makes her feel complete.”

He hesitated, something like longing flickering in his eyes. But it died quickly, replaced by duty—or whatever he chose to call that weakness.

Then he hugged me.

My body went rigid, my wolf silent. There was no comfort in him anymore—only memory and suffocation. I eased backward, slipping free from his arms.

“Go to her,” I whispered. “That’s where you belong now.”

He obeyed. Without hesitation, without looking back. The door shut behind him as he entered her room. Marinal’s delighted laughter echoed through the hall when the clasp clicked around her neck.

I stood there for one heartbeat. Then I turned and walked away.

Hours later, I sat alone by the frost-kissed window in the forgotten guestroom. Moonlight spilled over my trembling hands. Not from sorrow—sorrow had burned itself out—but from the quiet battle between my body and illness. My wolf curled inside my spirit, wounded and loyal, pressing herself against me with soft, desperate need.

“It’s over,” I whispered to her. “It’s time to go. We’ll be safe soon.”

A tiny kick stirred beneath my ribs—soft, brave, alive.

My child. The only heart that truly mattered.

I cradled my belly with both arms. “I’ll protect you,” I vowed. “No more pain. No more humiliation. Just us.”

The moon dipped behind clouds. My breathing steadied.

Tomorrow, I would walk out of this place for good. No hesitation. No looking back.

On my calendar, I drew a circle around the date.

The day I would leave.

The day I would finally reclaim myself.

Goodbye, Alpha.