bChapter /bb3 /b

Knock.. Knock.. Knock…

The knock on the Alpha’s office door echoed louder in my chest than it did down the hall.

My fingers trembled as I smoothed the folded schrship letter in my coat pocket. This wasn’t just a conversation–it was closure.

The beginning of my freedom.

“Come in,” Alpha Gregor’s voice boomed.

I stepped inside, spine straight, chin lifted. I had to look confident even if everything inside me trembled.

The Alpha looked up from a stack of papers, his piercing gaze pausing when he saw me. “Eine. What brings you here?”

I took a deep breath. “I’ve received a full schrship to study at an art academy in Florence, Italy. It’s a rare opportunity and… I’d like to request permission to leave the pack.”

He blinked..

For a moment, just silence. Then, slowly, he nodded, rubbing his chin.

“I was informed of your eptance,” he said, his tone neutral. “You’ve made yourself useful to this pack, despite your… background. It’s not often we see

someone rise from such odds.”

I wasn’t sure if that was meant to be apliment or just a reminder of where I came from so I kept my expression neutral.

Did he forget that my parents were a great warrior once? But I decide to keep my mouth shut.

He finally nodded “I’ll sign the necessary approvals,” he continued, reaching for his stamp. “But be aware, Eine–once you leave, you are no longer under our protection. You’ll be a lone wolf outside our borders.”

“I understand,” I said quietly.

He gave a final nod. “Very well. You leave tomorrow?”

“Yes. The train to the city leaves at dawn.” I said firmly and again, make him nodded his head.

As I turned to go, the door opened again.

I froze in ce the second his scent hit me.

Shit!!

Ruben….

Of course… He lived here now, didn’t he? In the Alpha’s mansion. His new home with Kaithlin. Their bond had barely settled, yet everything already seemed in ce–like I had never been part of the story.

His eyes found mine, and for the first time in years, I didn’t look away.

“Eine?” he said, voice unsure, caught off–guard.

I forced ba /bsmile. “Ruben… Sir..” I almost forgot bto /bcall him not only by name, luckily no one baware /babout it.

b“/bWhat are you doing here?” His voice dropped bto /bsomething quieter, almost like he was trying not bto /bsound bdesperate/bb. /bb“/bbYou’re /bbnot/bb… /bbyou’re /bbnot /bbin /btroubleb, /bbare /byou?”

b1/4 /b

I raise my eyebrow in wonder, what does he mean by trouble?

But I decide to ignore it.

b“/bNo,b” /bI said simply. “I’m leaving.“,

His brows pulled together. “Leaving?”

I nodded my head “I got a schrship,” I answered. “Art academy in Italy.”

The silence that followed was sharp, biting.

“Italy?” he echoed, like the word offended him.

I tilted my head. “Yes. I’ll be gone by morning.”

Ruben opened his mouth, then closed it again. Something flickered in his eyes–shock, disbelief, anger maybe. But he said nothing.

Good… Don’t you dare say anything!

No one in this pack knew he had once been fated to me. He had made sure of that. Only Maria knew, and I’d sworn her to silence. I wasn’t going to be the one to start shouting truths just to make people ufortable. What would it change?

“What about your wolf?” he asked suddenly, almost usingly.

I flinched before I could stop myself. “She’s… quiet.”

Another flicker. Regret? Guilt? I didn’t care anymore.

“Why now?” he asked, stepping closer. “Why so far?”

Why do you care? I thought but decide to not say it.

“Because there’s nothing left for me here,” I said calmly, meeting his eyes. “And I want something for myself. I deserve that.”

His jaw clenched. “You’re running away.”

“No,” I said, lifting my chin. “I’m choosing me.”

That silence returned…

He looked like he wanted to say something–maybe everything. But Ruben ck was good at swallowing words he didn’t want to face.

So, when I heard nothing more, I turned my back on him, the same way he once turned his back on me.

Maria met me in the kitchenste that night, wrapping food into a small cloth bundle, her eyes already brimming with tears.

“I still think it’s too soon,” she muttered. “You haven’t even healed yet.”

I wrapped my arms around her. “This is my healing, Maria.”

She sniffled and pulled back. “You remember the address I gave you? Louis and Patricia. They’ll meet you at the station bin /bFlorence. bGood /bbpeople/bb. /bbThey’ll /bkeep an eye on you.”

I nodded “bI /bremember

“And the money–bdon’t /bargue with me, Just take it.”

040

Sat, 12

bI /bsmiledb, /bmy throat tight, she’s the closest person that I have like a mother. b“/bThank you, For everything.”

Maria squeezed my cheeks like I was still a child. “Make art. Be free. And if that boy ever shows up crying at your door, m bit /bbin /bhis faceb.” /b

Iughed, a real one. The first in years.

Like it’s going to happen, I thought sadly.

The next morning, the pack was still asleep as I dragged my single suitcase through the snow–dusted path toward the main gates. The sky was still dark, stars barely beginning to fade.

No goodbyes. No audience. Just me and the open road.

I sighed as the cold bit at my cheeks, but I didn’t mind.

I was leaving behind a ce that had defined my pain–and I was walking into something unknown, something new. It terrified me and thrilled me in equal measure.

The station came into viewi, /isteam curling from the engine like breath. I boarded with my heart in my throat.

As the train pulled away, I stared out the window, watching the forest disappear. My home. My cage.

Goodbye, Ruben, I thought.

You chose power… I choose peace…

The journey to Florence took more than a day. By the time I arrived, my body was exhausted, but my soul felt strangely light.

Louis and Patricia stood at the tform holding a small sign with my name on it. I wasn’t. family.

Ito kindness from strangersb, /bbut they weed me like

They drove me through winding cobblestone streets, past old stone buildings and flower–covered balconies.

The city felt alive–like it breathed art into the air.

“You’ll stay with us until the dorms open,” Patricia said in her warm ent. “We live near the Arno. It’s quiet there. Peaceful.”

Peaceful…

I almost didn’t remember what that felt like.

“Before that we need to go to the Pack house, Beta Alfonso will wee you and do the document neededb” /bLouis added and I inod /imy head slowly before look back from the window.

New country, new ce, new pack..

when I arrived in the pack house, didn’t notice why it was the Beta who meet me, bnot /bbthe /bAlpha, I try to keep my face and expression neutral and polite thinking that I am not important enough for their Alpha bto /bgreet me before we went back to the road bto /bbgo /bto the university.

The academy was something out of a dream. White pirs, ivy climbing up ancient walls, students moving with sketchbooks under their arms and paint smudged across their jeans.

It didn’t feel real. And yet… it felt right.

I spent the first week in silence, letting my hands remember how to create. Canvas after canvas, charcoal and watercolor, sketches bof /bpain band /bblonging /band quiet hope.

And through it all, I searched–sometimes subconsciously–for the feel of Mika.

A

b16:49 /bSat, b??/b?

But she remained silent.

Gone? No, Just… sleeping.

She’d been hurt too deeply. Just like me.

So, I painted. Every day. Like my soul depended on it.

One afternoon, while sitting alone on a bench near the river, sketching the Ponte Vhio, I felt something strange–a flicker in the back of my mind. Like a heartbeat I hadn’t heard in years.

My spine stiffened.

“Mika?” I whispered.

Still nothing.

But something had stirred.

I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of the river, the sun, the foreign wind. Maybe she wasn’t gonei. /iMaybe, like me, she was slowlying back to life.

Weeks passed… Then Months…

Letters came from Maria, always with little notes of encouragement. I never heard from anyone else in ckpine. Not that I expected to.

Not even Ruben…

That part still stung sometimes. Late at night. But less and less each time.

Because I was rebuilding myself.

I was no longer just the rejected girl, the charity case.

I was Eine Aurora Rollin. An artist. A survivor.

And somewhere deep within, I knew…

My story wasn’t over yet.

Italy was just the beginning.

G