Chapter 132

Raymond's POV

The second that cursed artifact blew apart, just shattering into a million glittering pieces that spun through the air like dangerous snow, my brain snapped back into itself. Not gently. Not like waking from a nap.

It felt like someone had grabbed my soul and hurled it through a brick wall straight back into the waking world.

Dear blessed Moon Goddess.

What the hell had I turned into?

I was standing in the dungeons. The actual dungeons. The air felt thick and rotten. Blood, sweat, mildew all mixed together in a cocktail that made me want to puke.

Something was in my hand. I looked down to see that I was gripping a sliver blade, crusted with dried blood. The knife stuck to my palm. I was squeezing it so hard my knuckles had gone bone-white.

Timothy hung in front of me, dangling from massive iron chains. His body was a roadmap of burns, cuts, and bruises that hadn't even started healing yet. Every single mark told the same story: I did this to him.

The truth didn't creep up on me. It crashed down like a freight train, stealing the breath from my lungs.

"No, no, no… what have I done?" The words started as barely a whisper, but then fought their way up through my throat, growing louder and louder until I was screaming at the stone walls around me.

"What kind of monster am I?!"

Timothy's head lifted slowly, like he barely had the energy for even that small movement. His eyes were glazed with pain but not empty. Somewhere in there was confusion, and maybe something like recognition.

"Alpha?" His voice was hoarse. "You… sound different."

Different. Yeah. Moon Goddess only knows what I'd sounded like before—when I was torturing one of the few people who'd defended Aurora when the rest of the pack was ready to toss her out.

The blade slipped from my hand before I even thought about it. It hit the stones with a sharp clang that echoed all around. My hands wouldn't stop shaking, it took me three damn tries just to get those shackles open.

The second the chains dropped, Timothy crumpled forward. I caught him out of instinct, but his weight nearly dropped me. Not because of his size—because every ounce of him came with the avalanche of memories I didn't want to face.

"Get the healers!" I barked at the guards standing there like statues.

Nothing. They just stared, their expressions flat, uncertain, as if they were still waiting for me to give the other kind of order.

"I said now!" I snapped, my voice echoing.

Finally, one of them moved. The rest were still frozen, caught between old commands and the person in front of them now.

"And release everyone in these cells," I added, my voice iron. "All of them. And find Aurora. Now."

I didn't wait to see if they listened. I ran.

The corridors blurred, but each step pulled up another ugly memory. Giana's soft voice whispering what sounded like suggestions at first, her hands brushing my arm, her eyes locking onto mine until the rest of the world faded. Those "suggestions" turning sharper over time, cutting away my will piece by piece. The slow erosion of judgment until what she wanted just… became what I wanted. Until there was no line between them at all.

I found Aurora in what used to be the east wing. Well, maybe you could still call it the east wing if you were being generous about a pile of rubble.

Cracks split the walls wide open. Stone chunks scattered everywhere like broken teeth. One beam had snapped clean in half and dangled there like a broken arm. Everything reeked of burnt wood and choking dust.

There she was on the ground, motionless. Scarily pale, blood on her face, with dark circles under her eyes.

I knew exactly what she'd done without anyone spelling it out for me. While I'd been busy carrying out Giana's orders, Aurora had been fighting tooth and nail to break the hold on me. And she'd nearly destroyed herself doing it.

"Aurora," I whispered, dropping to my knees beside her. Before I could stop myself, my arms wrapped around her. She weighed nothing. It felt like holding a bird with broken wings. "I can't undo any of this. Moon Goddess knows I can't. But maybe I can start making things right."

She stirred like she was swimming up through thick mud. Her eyes opened, but when she looked at me? No relief. No anger. She looked at me the way you would a stranger who might have something vaguely familiar about them

"Raymond?" Her voice was paper-thin. "The artifact…?"

"Destroyed. You did it. You freed me. Freed the packs from Giana's control. Gave us a fighting chance against the Rogue King."

People were gathering now, pulled by the sound, by the destruction. Hushed murmurs spread through the crowd like wildfire.

"You're the best Luna this pack has ever had," I said, because after all the lies, truth was all I had left to offer. "You spotted what everyone else missed. You took action while the rest of us stood around like idiots."

Her face didn't soften. If anything, it settled into something polite but cold.

"I need you, Aurora," I said, my voice cracking in ways that made me hate myself. "I don't know how to lead the pack without you."

"You'll figure it out," she said simply, wincing as she sat up. "You always were capable when you weren't being manipulated."

That cut deeper than anger ever could have.

"You're an incredible Luna and wife," I tried again. "How do I even begin to fix this?"

"Simple," she said. "You don't. Some things can't be fixed, Raymond."

It felt like the floor gave out beneath me.

Aurora's POV

Watching him was like looking at a ghost wearing Raymond's skin. All the features I knew, all the familiarity—but the connection that used to bind us? Gone. Completely gone.

His apologies sounded real. His gratitude was real. But me? I felt nothing. Not anger. Not love. Just a cool recognition of what used to be.

"Please," Raymond said, voice raw. "We should be united now."

"We will," I told him. "As Alpha and Luna. For the pack. That's all."

The people watching understood. This wasn't just about politics—it was about something personal that had been burned to ash.

He looked like a man watching the last rope slip from his hands.

"I still love you," he said. "I know I don't deserve to say that, but—"

"You don’t love me," I said, cutting him off. "You never have. We had an arrangement. A contract, rather than a real marriage. We both did what was expected of us. But it wasn't real love, it was duty attempting to masquerade as something pretty."

The words stayed between us like a wall. What we'd had wasn't strong enough to survive what happened. Maybe it never was.

Timothy appeared in the doorway, leaning on two healers but standing. Proof, right there, of what Giana's influence could make happen.

"Luna," he said, relief flooding his voice. "Thank the Moon Goddess you're safe."

His loyalty was worth more to me than anything Raymond could promise now.

"Rest," I told Timothy. "It's over."

Raymond's eyes followed him, full of guilt.

"How do I live with what I've done?" he asked me quietly.

"By being better," I said. "By proving it. And by accepting that not everything can be undone."

Then shouting exploded from somewhere outside. The floor trembled under our feet, and those deep war horns started wailing across the territory.

When that artifact blew apart, Giana had vanished into thin air. And now she was bringing her mate's army.

The real fight was only just beginning.