After the Mate Bond was severed 💔, I took the ashes of my father and brother 🪦 and vanished into the Neutral Zone.

Five years of silence stretched into oblivion ⏳. Everyone assumed I’d crawl back, begging for reconciliation. But I never did.

Until one day, at the bus station 🚉, an old Pack member sniffed the air and asked: "When are you going to forgive the Alpha?"

Memories clawed at me. His childhood friend had tripped my father during the Hunt 🐺, leaving him to be torn apart. My brother demanded justice ⚖️, but she twisted the truth, accused him of force‑marking her, and he was thrown from a cliff 🌊. His wolf died, his body left broken in a hospital bed 🛏️.

I vowed to the Moon Goddess 🌙 that she would face judgment. But instead, the Enforcers came pounding on my door 🚪, accusing me of treason.

Twenty‑four hours in wolfsbane‑laced cells ⛓️, then release. Outside, he waited—leaning against a sleek black SUV 🚙, cigarette smoke curling in the cold night 🌫️. "My dear Luna… it’s cold. Get in."