In the following days, I barely returned to the territory.

Dorian did not come for me. His scent still clung to my wolf through the fading claim, intermittent and faint, as if even he did not care whether I answered.

On the day I was to leave, I intended to depart immediately. But there were still my sketches in the studio. Since I was leaving, I wanted to tidy them up.

When I opened the door, the studio was a mess.

Shreds of paper littered the floor. I bent to pick up fragments. One was Howl Under the Moon, a painting I had spent a winter completing three years ago. It had been torn.

Leo stood in the center, holding a stack of papers, tearing them with small claws. My mind went blank.

“What are you doing? Who let you in?”

Even Dorian rarely entered the studio.

Leo looked at me. His gray-blue eyes held no fear, only coldness.

He returned to ripping the sketches.

“Stop.” I did not shout. My wolf suppressed the anger in my chest.

He tossed the torn papers to the floor and reached for the rolled sketches.

Then he began to cry. High-pitched, tearing howls echoed down the corridor.

“What have you done to my son?”

Seraphina charged in, followed by four Blackthorn guards Dorian had left behind.

Leo cried harder when he saw his mother. He grabbed the framed photo of Dorian and me and smashed it to the ground.

Glass shattered, a shard cutting my arm. Warm blood dripped down my fingers.

“Wicked woman,” Leo said. His voice childlike, but every word clear. “You made my father unable to be with my mother. Your things should not be here.”

I stepped forward. A guard pressed my shoulders—not Leo’s, but another’s. They held me back.

“Why stop me and not him?”

“Madam,” one guard said, head bowed, “Alpha’s orders. The young master’s safety comes first.”

Dorian feared I would harm Leo. He had instructed the guards in advance.

My blood froze along my arm. My heart felt shattered across the floor.

I could not break free from the trained wolf warriors.

When Dorian arrived, Seraphina already had Leo at her side. She twisted his arm. The pup cried loudly. She twisted his palm again. The cry grew sharper.

Then she dragged him to Dorian, showing the red marks.

“Dorian, Leo only upset Vivienne a little. She hit him.”

Dorian’s gaze shifted to me.

“Vivienne. Apologize.”

“I did not touch him.”

The guards pressed my shoulders. They did not force me to kneel. The humiliation, though, was worse than hitting the floor on my knees.

“Dorian Blackthorn,” I whispered, voice trembling, “why is a child and his mother in my territory?”

“Be quiet.” Dorian’s voice was cold. He observed me for a few seconds.

“Place her in the side room.”

Seraphina followed with the guards, lowering her voice so only I could hear.

“I will have them watch your door. You will not leave before midnight.”

She led Leo to the master bedroom. The side room was small, window facing north, no moonlight entered. Guards locked it from outside.

I did not kneel. I sat on the bed, hugging my knees, waiting.

They checked the door every two hours to confirm I had not escaped or harmed myself. After midnight, footsteps faded.

When I left the side room, the corridor was dimly lit by moon energy lamps.

The studio door remained open. I stepped inside, bent down, and began picking up the fragments.

Sketches from the Silver Moon Festival, Side by Side for Mother’s Day, and Howl Under the Moon, which I had spent a winter on, could not be restored.

I thought my wolf had gone numb from the pain. Yet crouched among the broken pieces, it still whined softly.

Before dawn, I slung a bag over my shoulder, carrying the sketches I could barely piece together. I walked out of the Blackthorn territory.

The moment I crossed the border, a silver notice bloomed inside my mind.

[Claiming Release Confirmed.]

[Vivienne Hale is no longer bound to Alpha Dorian Blackthorn.]

[The Blackthorn Pack no longer has the right to summon, restrain, track, or claim her.]

My wolf lifted her head for the first time in days.

Moonlight poured across the path ahead.

She glanced back at the territory one last time.

Then she turned with me and disappeared into the darkness.