Sofia's POV

I packed slowly, my hands shaking the whole time. Every shirt I folded felt heavy. Every drawer I closed sounded too loud. The maid stood quietly by the door, waiting for me, her head down. She did not look at me—maybe because she already knew what had happened last night.

My little boy sat on the bed, sleepy and rubbing his eyes.

"Mama… where we going?" he asked softly.

I forced a smile and kissed his forehead. "We're going to visit Grandma," I said quietly.

He nodded and reached for his small backpack. He was only two and a half, but he understood when something felt strange. His eyes watched me the whole time, confused and worried.

When I finished packing, I took one deep breath and walked out of the room. My legs felt weak, like they didn't want to move. The maid followed behind me with the bags.

Downstairs, two guards were already waiting.

I cleared my throat. "Where is Alpha Damien?"

One guard bowed his head. "Alpha Damien left early this morning, my lady."

My heart dropped. "Left? Where?"

"We do not know," the guard answered. "But he left orders. We are to take you and the young master safely to the private jet. He said no one must trouble you."

No one must trouble you.

The words hit me like a punch. Was that his final message? Was he done with me? Did he hate me now? Or… was he planning to hurt me.

I didn't know.

I picked up my son, holding him close, and walked outside. The air felt cold. Too cold. My chest felt tight, like something inside me was shrinking.

The guards walked behind me as we approached the car. It wasn't the usual big pack Jeep. This one was smaller, quiet, and clean—almost like he didn't want attention.

The door was opened for me.

"Careful, my lady," the maid whispered before stepping back.

I climbed inside with my son on my lap. The guards closed the door, got into the front, and soon, the car started moving.

My son looked around with big, curious eyes.

"Mama… where father?"

I froze. My throat closed.

"He… he had to go somewhere," I whispered.

He frowned in that cute little way he always did. "Dada come back?"

I looked out the window so he wouldn't see the pain in my eyes.

"I don't know," I whispered softly.

The drive to the private airstrip felt long. Too long. My heart kept pounding. Every turn of the car made me more nervous. My mind kept screaming:

What if this is a trick?

What if he is angry?

What if he plans to kill me?

But nothing happened. No guards grabbed me. No threats came. No messages. No anger.

Just silence.

And that silence hurt more than a thousand screams.

When we reached the airstrip, the jet was already waiting. The stairs were down. The pilot stood near the entrance and bowed when he saw me.

"Welcome, Luna," he said quietly. "We will leave as soon as you are ready."

Luna.

It felt wrong hearing that word now—like the title didn't belong to me anymore.

I held my son's hand tightly and walked up the stairs. He hopped beside me, his little backpack bouncing on his shoulder.

Inside, the jet smelled like clean leather and cold air. The seats were soft. The lights were low.

"Wow…" my son whispered. "Plane!"

"Yes," I said softly. "Plane."

The guards handed my bags to the attendants and bowed before leaving.

The door closed.

The engines started.

And before I knew it, we were in the air.

I sat by the window, watching the clouds outside. My son leaned on my arm, playing with his little toy car.

But I didn't feel anything. Not joy. Not fear. Not relief.

Just emptiness.

I rested my forehead on the cold window and closed my eyes. My heart felt too heavy. My mind wouldn't stop racing.

Last night replayed over and over:

Damien pulling the knife from his chest…

Damien walking away…

The blood on the floor…

His empty eyes…

His silence…

Him sending me away without a word…

My wolf whispered softly inside me:

"He didn't punish you.

He didn't lock you away.

He didn't shout.

He didn't even ask who told you."

I swallowed hard.

"Maybe he hates me now," I whispered.

"No," my wolf answered. "If he hated you… you wouldn't be on this plane."

I didn't know what that meant. I didn't know what he was thinking. And that was what scared me the most.

Damien's silence was louder than his anger.

I looked down at my son.

"Mama?" he said softly. "You sad?"

I forced a smile and kissed his forehead.

"No, baby. Mama is fine."

But I wasn't.

Not even close.

The flight felt longer than usual. Even though everything was calm, my heart refused to calm down. Every cloud we passed, every sound the jet made, every thought in my head—everything felt heavy.

What if Damien never wants to see me again?

What if I made the biggest mistake of my life?

What if I stabbed an innocent man?

What if someone lied to me on purpose?

What if… what if… what if?

I closed my eyes again, shaking slightly.

I didn't know what the future held.

But one thing was clear:

I didn't want to lose him.

The plane finally began to descend. My heart raced faster with every second.

"We landing?" my son asked softly.

"Yes," I whispered. "We're almost home."

But it didn't feel like home anymore. Everything felt strange, like I was walking into a life I no longer belonged to.

When the jet touched the ground, the doors opened. Cold wind rushed inside, and for a moment, I closed my eyes and breathed it in. It didn't calm me. Nothing could.

At the bottom of the stairs, a black car was waiting for us.

Damien had arranged it.

Even now, even after I stabbed him, he still planned everything for me.

My chest hurt.

A man stood beside the car and bowed. "Alpha Damien sent me, my lady. I will drive you and the young master home."

I nodded silently. My voice didn't want to come out.

He opened the door for us. My son climbed in first, then I followed. The door closed, and the car began to move.

The whole ride felt like a dream.

Empty streets.

Tall trees.

Shops I used to know.

Buildings I used to pass every day.

But today… I felt like a stranger in my own town.

My son leaned against me. "Mama, when Dada come?" he asked again.

My eyes burned. "I don't know, baby," I whispered.

I looked out the window, hoping the tears wouldn't fall.

After a long drive, the car stopped in front of my childhood home. The driver stepped out and opened the door for me.

"We have arrived, Luna," he said.

Luna.

The word stabbed my heart.

I carried my son and walked toward the front door. It opened before I could knock.

My mother stood there, wide-eyed.

"Sofia?" she gasped. "Oh my goodness, child—you didn't tell me you were coming!"

I forced a smile and hugged her with one arm. "I… I didn't know I was coming either."

My voice cracked a little. I hoped she didn't notice.

She hugged my little boy and kissed his cheeks. "My sweet boy! Oh, how you've grown!"

He giggled softly and hugged her neck.

My mother looked at me again. Her eyes searched my face, but I turned away quickly.

"I'll take your bags inside," she said gently.

"Thank you," I whispered.

I stepped inside the house. Everything looked the same—same couch, same pictures on the wall, same smell. It should have felt comforting.

But instead…

I felt empty.

Cold.

My mother walked down the hallway with the bags, calling out something about preparing a room.

I didn't follow her.

I walked straight into my old room.

I closed the door quietly behind me.

Then I sat on the edge of the bed.

My son sat beside me, playing with his car happily, unaware of the storm happening inside me.

I stared at the wall, my hands shaking again.

For the first time in a long time…

I felt truly alone.