While most would try to hide the shame of their Luna running away from her Alpha and their territory—if only to save face for the Alpha and protect the reputation of the entire pack—Levi was different. He hated his Alpha. He hated the people of his pack for hurting their Luna so deeply that she had no choice but to leave.
So instead of covering it up, Levi wanted them all to suffer. He wanted to expose every wound, every injustice, even if doing so meant torturing himself in the process. The pain from the backlash of the oath he swore burned through his body, but he endured it.
’Fine. Let’s all get damned together. It’s the least we deserve for what we put Luna Addison through—three years of scorn, hatred, and suffering in this wretched pack.’
Levi’s hand trembled slightly from the pain, but he forced a smile onto his face as he led the Royal Convoy and their entourage into the pack house, guiding them toward their suites as though nothing was wrong.
Levi was certain Addison was still alive. After waking up, he scoured the entire forest and returned to the spot where he last saw her. There, he found signs—clear traces that someone had taken her.
But strangely, he wasn’t worried. He could tell that whoever took Addison meant her no harm. How did he know? He had followed the trail.
The person who carried her had been careful with every step—each footprint was evenly spaced, deliberate, and avoided roots and stones that could jostle her injured body. It was clear they were mindful of her condition, trying not to cause her any more pain.
That was enough to make Levi breathe a sigh of relief. He didn’t know who these people were, but he was certain they weren’t rogues.
Rogues were savage, irrational madmen—outcasts exiled from their packs. If they saw a woman, their first instinct was to assault and defile her, not help her. They didn’t think, didn’t care, and most certainly took pleasure in violence. But this... this was different. Whoever had Addison was protecting her.
But Levi also didn’t believe the person who took Addison was a vampire. Although vampires could match werewolves in strength, the footprints he examined told a different story. They were large—almost as big as Alpha Zion’s.
From that alone, Levi guessed the man must’ve been around 6’5", nearly the same height as Zion. His companion’s footprints were a bit smaller, more in line with Levi’s own height, perhaps between 6’1" and 6’3".
Vampires, even the adult males, rarely reached such height—averaging around 5’11" to 6’2" at most. Based on that alone, Levi concluded that whoever took Addison was most likely another werewolf—one from outside their territory.
As for why they were there, that wasn’t his concern. What mattered most was that Addison had escaped safely.
He had also felt the moment she severed her link to the pack. It had hit him like a wave—but instead of panic, he felt a strange sense of relief. It was the right thing to do.
He had feared she might hesitate, that her emotional attachment would leave a thread for Alpha Zion to track her through their bond.
But now that it was gone, Levi was certain—Addison was free.
But how did Levi even survive the carnage that night? Ironically, he had Beta Greg to thank for that. The brutal beating Greg gave him had left him half-dead, his breathing shallow and barely detectable.
Because of that, the rampaging Alpha wolf had passed him by, mistaking him for already dead or too broken to matter—and turned his rage on Greg instead.
When Levi regained consciousness, the first light of dawn was creeping across the sky. His wounds had begun to close, and even the gaping injury in his abdomen had started to knit together—his wolf working tirelessly through the night to heal the damage Greg had inflicted.
The moment he could stand, Levi began searching for Addison. He followed the faint traces left behind by the people who took Addison, only to find Alpha Zion already at the trail’s end—kneeling in silence, staring at the ground where the tracks disappeared.
Zion looked lifeless, his eyes hollow and lost. Yet beneath the emptiness, Levi could sense a burning determination, a refusal to give up on his mate.
But to Levi, it was laughable. He couldn’t help the scoff that escaped him. Zion’s late-blooming affection meant nothing now. Regret, after everything Addison had endured, was just cheap and hollow, like withered grass underfoot.
Levi could only take a grim satisfaction in watching Zion slowly unravel from the inside. Day by day, the Alpha grew more irritable, more manic—barely holding himself together. And honestly, Levi doubted he would recover anytime soon.
Zion was still deep in mourning, isolating himself in his marital bedroom, clinging to delusion. He lay there as if Addison were still beside him, drowning in heartbreak and breaking down over and over again like a love-sick pup lost in his own fantasy.
When he lay alone in their once-shared marital bed, the ruthless and formidable Alpha was nowhere to be found. Only his heartbroken whimpers filled the silence, soft and pitiful, until exhaustion finally pulled him into sleep.
And only in those fleeting dreams could he relive the short time he had with Addison—those precious three days and nights that had now become his only memories of her. So brief. So irreplaceable.
He regretted not spending every damn minute with her—watching her tend to her beloved flowers in the garden, seeing her work with quiet confidence in her office, or walking the territory grounds to oversee the projects she had so passionately led. He should’ve cherished every moment.
But regret couldn’t bring her back. He didn’t even know where to start looking for her.
Drowning in guilt and grief, Zion spiraled into depression—until one memory surfaced like a lifeline: Addison’s garden.
Zion suddenly sat upright, a spark of clarity piercing through the fog of his despair. Without a word, he walked out of his room, brushing past Levi, who stood silently by the door.
There was a flicker of unconcealed satisfaction in Levi’s eyes—he had been watching Zion spiral, and he didn’t bother to hide it.
Zion couldn’t blame him. He had failed Addison, and Levi, as her Gamma, had always been closer to her than to him. Levi’s duty had been to protect and serve her to the best of his ability, and Zion had made that impossible. As he was the one who set the example for his pack, how they treated Addison was a reflection of his own attitude towards her; therefore, he has no one to blame but himself.
He had no right to punish Levi for looking at him with contempt. In truth, Zion saw himself the same way—nothing more than a fool in a crown.
But he couldn’t dwell on that now. There was something he needed to do.
He made his way to Addison’s garden—the one she had nurtured with her own hands, the one she had lovingly tended for three long years.
He wouldn’t let it wither.
Not like what he did to her.
Not while he still had breath in him.
If this garden was all he had left of her, then he would preserve it with everything he had. Amid the ruins of his regret, it was the only light left in his endless night.