CHAPTER 35: THE CRYBABY WHO RAN AWAY

Devon left before dawn, before even the kitchens stirred, before the guards changed shifts, before Elias woke with sleep-heavy eyes searching for "Mommy Devon."

He left silently, as he had come into this place, unseen, unheard, unmissed... or so he convinced himself.

His fever still clung to him like a second skin, his breath shaky, his body weak from nights of overusing magic and the shock of seeing the stranger, his brother, appear in his room. But the weight crushing his chest was heavier than any sickness.

It’s all my fault.

The massacre. The poison. The fear in Elias’s tiny voice when he cried. The way the vampires demanded the Luna. The existence of a brother he never knew. The truth about his bloodline, something dark, something hunted.

He slipped into pants and grabbed the first cloak he found, thin, not enough for the cold dawn air. He wore no boots. They would make noise. He did not risk opening drawers. He took nothing. Not even the pendant Elias once tied around his wrist. He left it on the bedside table, neatly folded atop the blanket as though leaving a resignation letter.

His heart cracked as he looked back at the room that had slowly become a home. The small carved wolf figurine Elias made for him, the extra pillow Lucien pretended not to place beside him every night, the faint scent of lavender from the enchanted candles meant to help him sleep.

He made himself look away. He waited until the magical wards flickered for a second, just a second, because of the failing electricity near his floor. Then he stepped out, slipping through like smoke, praying the magic wouldn’t react to him again and alert Lucien.

The corridor was cold. His breath fogged. The guards were stationed elsewhere, around Elias’s quarters and the borders, where massacres made everyone restless. His timing, unfortunately or fortunately, was perfect.

One step... another... another...

Soon, he was outside, moving deeper into the thick woods surrounding Ravenmoon territory. He didn’t shift. He didn’t dare. His half-baked wolf was too weak, too agitated. If he shifted now, Lucien would sense it instantly. So he ran on trembling legs, slipping on wet leaves, inhaling cold air that stabbed his chest.

Branches whipped his face, tearing thin lines across his cheeks. But he didn’t wipe the blood away. He deserved much worse. He kept whispering to himself, "This is better. This is safer for everyone."

He reached the old forest trail, the forgotten one. Guards rarely patrolled here. The ground was too unstable, the magic in the soil unpredictable. Even the Alpha avoided this place. That was why Devon chose it.

He pushed forward, ignoring how his vision swayed and pulsed. The fever was worsening, but he welcomed the heat burning under his skin. Pain felt like punishment, and he believed he deserved all of it.

A root caught his foot. He fell hard, scraping his palms and knees on the stone. He groaned softly, rolling onto his back as the forest canopy spun above him.

His heart pounded painfully, each beat echoing Lucien’s voice in his head:

"Stay where I can protect you."

"Don’t hide from me."

"You’re not alone anymore."

Devon shut his eyes and shook his head.

Those words were lies, he told himself. They had to be lies.

Lucien cared for the pack first. Always. Devon was just a tool, an arranged spouse, a convenient shield, a Luna of obligation. And now, a danger.

He remembered Lucien refusing to leave his bedside, sitting motionless in the darkness for hours as Devon burned with fever. But then he remembered the next morning, when Lucien returned to cold indifference, pretending nothing had changed.

The inconsistency broke him. He didn’t know what to believe anymore. He staggered to his feet, clinging to a tree trunk, and kept going. Hours passed. Or minutes. Time felt strange.

Eventually, the forest thinned, opening to the steep cliffs bordering the western edge of Ravenmoon lands. The wind howled, cold enough to freeze his sweat. He approached the cliff edge and looked down at the mist below.

If I fall... would the pack finally be safe? Would Lucien stop worrying? Would Elias forget me?

A sob tore through him unexpectedly.

"No," he whispered hoarsely. "I can’t die. Not like this. I won’t let them say the Luna protected no one... not even himself."

So he turned away. Not toward home, never again, but toward the unknown wilderness.

He walked further west, deeper into unclaimed lands where creatures stronger than him roamed. His hands glowed faintly, unbidden runes pulsing beneath the skin from the fever and overused magic. He clenched his fists to hide the light.

The world blurred again, and he stumbled forward. He didn’t notice he was crying until he tasted salt on his lips.

Somewhere behind him, the pack alarm bells began to ring, faint, distant. Someone had discovered his disappearance.

But Devon didn’t look back. He kept walking. Every step echoed with the same whispered conviction.

It’s better this way. They’ll be safer. Lucien will move on. Elias will forget. No more death will follow you... If you just disappear.

The forest swallowed him whole as the sun rose. And for the first time since arriving at Ravenmoon, Devon allowed himself to vanish.

The further he got from the pack’s heart, the weaker he felt.

His magic pulsed unevenly beneath his skin, unreliable and erratic. Every few minutes, a jolt surged through his palms like electricity trying to escape him. His fever blurred the world around him, twisting the trees into haunting silhouettes.

But he didn’t stop.

He couldn’t stop.

Not while Ravenmoon was still in danger.

Lucien... Elias... I’m sorry.

The thought pierced him harder than any injury he had sustained before. His throat tightened. He wanted to cry, but he was too dehydrated for tears.

He pushed deeper into the woods. Hours passed, he couldn’t tell how many, before his legs gave out and he crumpled beside an old stream. His vision swam, his breath fogging in uneven bursts. He leaned against a boulder, trembling violently.

Maybe I’ll just rest. Just for a moment.