I stood outside the hospital room, jaw locked, pacing like a caged animal. My wolf was restless. Agitated. Every second that door stayed shut gnawed at something deep inside me.
She wouldn’t even look at me when they wheeled her in. The moment her eyes met mine, it was like I wasn’t even there. Like I didn’t matter.
The doctor finally stepped out, nodding politely before brushing past me. “She’s stable,” he said, voice low. “Give her some time.”
Time? That’s all I’d given her. Time to walk away. Time to fall apart. Time to hate me.
I moved toward the door, hand halfway to the handle when I heard another voice inside.
Alpha Magnus, my father.
I stopped cold.
He was already in there with her.
I didn’t move. I just stood there, heart pounding, listening through the thin wood like I had any right to eavesdrop. Like I hadn’t forfeited every damn right the second I broke her heart.
“How are you? What happened?” Alpha Magnus asked, his voice soft with concern.
Her voice—God, her voice—was strained, small. “I’m fine now.”
Bullshit.
She was lying through her teeth, and I knew it. But it was the kind of lie she told to survive. I’d heard it before, too many times, and every time I let it slide.
Magnus brought up the guards. The fact I’d rushed her here. Whispers. Rumors. I could picture the way she probably tightened her jaw, trying to keep it together.
“Damien and I… we’re divorced.”
My chest squeezed. The word felt final now—carved into stone, stamped on my skin.
She told him everything. About the other woman. The pregnancy. I pressed my back to the wall, eyes closing. I’d never hated myself more than I did in that moment.
“I’m sorry, Felicia. You deserved better.”
Damn right she did.
She said she had to leave. That staying would destroy her. And she meant it.
I heard Magnus push back—caution in his voice. Warnings. The consequences of leaving the pack. Of becoming rogue.
But she wouldn’t stay. I could hear it in her voice—broken, trembling—but unshakable.
Then Alpha Magnus did something I never expected.
He offered her an envelope.
“You may no longer be my son’s wife,” he said quietly, “but you will always have my respect.” Those words hit harder than anything else.
The door opened a few moments later, and Magnus stepped out, walking right past me without a word.
I glanced inside. She sat in the chair, back hunched, head bowed, clutching the envelope like it was the only thing holding her together.
And she was crying.