Chapter 6

Aria's POV

I slipped the divorce agreement into my bag.

Thirty days.

Ronan said the Werewolf Court would take thirty days to evaluate whether I could live independently. I had to survive a thirty-day cooling-off period. First, I needed Damon to sign the divorce agreement. Once the petition was filed with the court, the clock would start. Then I had thirty days to get my cat, find a place to live, get a job, and become self-sufficient.

Until then, I had to make Damon think everything was normal.

I rushed back to Blackmoon manor the moment we finished talking. Damon had announced he wouldn't restrict my freedom anymore or make me do chores, but that didn't mean I could wander around all day. I couldn't give him any reason to suspect something. One wrong move and the whole plan was dead.

My heart was pounding when I walked through the manor gates. But I kept my face composed, the picture of a Luna who'd just been out for a stroll.

Damon was standing in the living room. He looked like he'd just wrapped up work, exhaustion in his eyes. But the moment he saw me, his gaze sharpened, instinctively reading me.

"Where were you?"

My heart clenched. But I didn't let it show.

"Shopping. You don't let me do chores anymore, so I had to find something to kill the time. I'd lose my mind stuck in this house all day." My voice was light, even teasing.

Damon studied me for a few seconds. I knew he was trying to read me. After all these years, I knew every micro-expression on his face better than anyone.

He stepped closer. His fingers found my wrist and began to slide upward—tracing my forearm, past my elbow, settling on my shoulder.

"We should have a pup," he said. "Give you something to keep busy."

My stomach turned.

"You said it before." Damon's fingers traced slow circles on my shoulder. "We'd have three pups. They'd grow up and take over the pack, and we'd retire and travel the world."

I had. Four years ago, right after he marked me, I'd said all of it. Back when I thought he was my salvation, when I thought the Moon Goddess had finally answered my prayers, when I thought I'd found the one I could give my life to.

Now I looked at his face and felt nothing but estrangement.

When he brought up those words, the image that flashed through my mind wasn't of our past happiness. It was Anissa, on her knees between his legs.

But I didn't move. I kept my body loose, relaxed, even kept a faint smile on my face.

"Damon. I'm a little tired. I've been walking all day. My legs are sore." My voice was gentle.

His eyes darkened. His fingers slid from my shoulder to my back, trailing down my spine.

"I can give you a massage."

Goosebumps erupted across my skin. Every hair stood on end. My body rejected him on instinct. I wanted to pull away, to shove him off, to run from this room.

But Damon's hand had already settled on my waist. His fingers tightened, pulling me against him.

Damon leaned in closer. I could tell he wanted to kiss me.

And then—the phone on the coffee table buzzed.

Damon's body went rigid for a second. He looked down at me, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

"Go ahead," I said. "It might be important."

Damon released me and walked over to pick up the phone.

When he saw the caller ID, his pupils shrank. His lips pressed into a thin line, the muscles in his jaw going tight.

Damon glanced at me, hesitated, then answered.

"Hello?"

"Damon—"

My blood went cold.

I knew that voice too well. That sugary lilt she only used when she was flirting with an Alpha.

Anissa.

Damon was still in touch with Anissa.

He'd told me he'd fired her, that she'd never set foot in Blackmoon territory again.

Damon had lied.

Damon's grip tightened on the phone. He turned his back to me and said something in a low voice I couldn't catch.

I dug my nails into my palm. My eyes went dark.

Liar.

Bastard.

I'd had a moment of doubt—the tiniest sliver of one. When he'd talked about having pups, there'd been a flash in his eyes that hadn't looked like an act. I'd almost wondered if he was genuinely trying to win me back.

That doubt was gone now. Crushed to dust by that sugary voice on the other end of the line.

Fine.

No more second chances.

The original plan had been to wait—wait for a better moment, wait until he was drunk, wait until he was distracted.

I changed my mind.

Tonight.

I walked to the entryway without a word, pulled the divorce agreement from my bag, flipped to the signature page, and picked up a pen from the desk.

I walked up behind Damon.

He was still facing away, murmuring to Anissa in a low voice, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the phone to his ear. His attention was entirely elsewhere. For the first time in four years, his back was turned and his guard was down—all because Anissa was on the line.

Good. Perfect.

"Darling." My voice was soft, natural, the way a considerate Luna would sound when she didn't want to disturb her Alpha at work. "I need you to sign a document."

"What document?" Damon asked absently, his attention clearly somewhere else. His eyes kept drifting toward the door.

"The manor insurance renewal. It's an annual thing. You signed it around this time last year."

A complete lie. If Damon had thought about it for even a second, if he'd paid the slightest attention, he'd have noticed—insurance renewals aren't one page. A Luna doesn't hand them directly to an Alpha. And they certainly don't come up in the middle of the night while he's on the phone with his mistress.

But he didn't.

His mind was entirely on the phone call.

Damon didn't even glance at the document. He took the pen and scrawled his name on the signature line.

Damon Gray.

Bold, sweeping strokes, identical to the ones he'd signed on our bonding contract four years ago at our wedding.

My fingers were shaking. But I held it together. I slid the paper away and smiled.

"Thank you, darling."

Damon grunted, didn't even turn around.

I carried the paper back to the sofa, folded it, and tucked it into the deepest pocket of my bag.

My heart was hammering so hard it felt like it would break through my ribs.

I'd done it.

Damon Gray, one of the most feared Alphas on the West Coast, absolute ruler of the Blackmoon Pack, had just signed away his own marriage while lost in his mistress's honeyed voice.

Damon finally hung up and turned around. His expression had already reset—a carefully calibrated mix of busyness and apology.

"Pack business came up. I need to head out. I'm the Alpha. I know you understand."

I know you understand.

I'd been hearing that line for four years.

Every time I lay alone in bed at midnight waiting for him to come home, I told myself to be understanding. Every time Donna threw a rag in my face, I told myself to be understanding.

"Of course," I said evenly.

A flicker of struggle crossed Damon's face, maybe guilt. He leaned down, cupped my face in his hands, and pressed his lips to my forehead—hard, lingering, with a force that seemed meant to leave a mark. Like he was marking me. Like he was reminding me who I belonged to.

"Wait for me," he said.

I nodded, playing along.

Damon grabbed his jacket from the sofa and headed for the door. No hesitation.

I stood there, listening to his footsteps fade, listening to the manor doors close, listening to the engine start up in the garage and then disappear into the distance.

Only then did I slowly raise my hand and wipe the dampness from my forehead.

Then I looked down at the thin piece of paper in my bag.

I looked around this grand manor with cold eyes. This place where I'd lived for four years.

Soon it would have nothing to do with me.

I'd never had a say in a single decorating decision. Donna hadn't even let me pick the curtains—four years ago, the first time I'd tried to offer an opinion on the living room drapes, she'd pointed at me with contempt and said:

"Shut up, Aria! You're just an Omega. You have no right to decide what this house looks like."

I'd lowered my head back then. I wouldn't do it again.

I picked up my bag and walked upstairs to the bedroom I'd lived in for four years.

I pulled down a few worn boxes from the top of the closet—the same ones I'd brought from Silvermoon four years ago, holding what few personal things I had left. They'd sat empty all this time, gathering dust on top of the wardrobe.

I didn't start packing right away.

I sat on the edge of the bed and patted my knee.

"Come here."

A ball of gray fur crawled out from under the bed, rubbed against my ankle, then leaped into my lap and curled up. She looked up at me, green eyes gleaming like twin gemstones in the dim lamplight.

Pearl. I'd found her seven years ago with Damon, near the ruins of the Silvermoon Pack. She'd been a kitten back then, barely weaned, so filthy you couldn't tell what color she was, shivering in a cardboard box.

Donna had refused to let me keep her, insisting a werewolf manor was no place for a cat, that cats were filthy creatures.

That day, for once, Damon had spoken up for me. "Let her keep it, Mother. She gets lonely in the house alone."

I remember holding that tiny kitten, tears streaming down my face, thinking Damon was the best man in the world.

Now I held her, my nose stinging, but no tears came.

I buried my face in her warm fur and breathed in that faint, clean scent of hers.

"Pearl," I whispered.

She mewed, her tail curling slowly around my wrist.

"Mama's getting ready to do something big, and I can't take care of you for a while. So forgive me for sending you to Uncle Peter's pet hospital."

She licked my fingers.

"In the divorce agreement, you'll be awarded to Mama." I pressed my lips to her ear, my voice soft and slow, as if I were making the most solemn promise in the world. "I swear. Mama's going to work hard and make money. I'll buy you the best cat food—not the cheap stuff from the bottom shelf at the supermarket, but the organic, freeze-dried kind that costs an arm and a leg. I'll get you a cat tree, and a wand toy with a little mouse on the end, and that plush bed you've always wanted but Donna would never let you have."

Pearl purred softly.

"Mama's going to find you a nice quiet windowsill. One where you can lie in the sun. The light's always blocked by the curtains here. You don't know this, but the sunshine outside is actually wonderful."

My throat tightened.

"Once I'm settled, I'll come get you. And then we're never coming back here. Mama promises."

Pearl rolled over in my arms, baring her belly, her four little paws splayed loose—total trust.

I smiled.

Holding her, I lay back on the bed and pulled the covers over us both.

The empty boxes could wait until tomorrow.

Tonight I was going to sleep with my cat. She was one of the few things in this manor that was truly mine.

Moonlight poured through the window.

I closed my eyes to the sound of Pearl's warm breathing. Tomorrow, I'd leave Blackmoon with Alpha Ronan.

Damon wouldn't notice. He rarely came home. And even when he did, he never set foot in this bedroom. It had been a long, long time since he'd slept here. Even if I emptied the room, it would be days before he realized.

Maybe he'd never notice at all. Maybe by the time he did, I'd already be in Bloodmoon territory.

The next morning, my phone buzzed.

It was Alpha Ronan.

"Aria. I'm outside."