The silence after Lana’s death was absolute.

Nikolai Volkov remained on his knees in the middle of the destruction, blood pooling around him like a dark accusation. The metallic scent of it filled his lungs with every ragged breath. Broken glass glittered across the marble floor like fallen stars, reflecting the soft golden glow of the Moonshadow Medallion still clutched in his bloodied hand.

He couldn’t move.

The weight of what he had done — what he had *allowed* to happen — crashed over him like an avalanche.

A low, broken sound tore from his throat. Not quite human. Not quite wolf. Just pure, visceral agony.

His wolf howled.

The sound erupted from deep within his chest, raw and haunting, vibrating through the penthouse walls. It was the howl of a mate who had betrayed his other half. The howl of an Alpha who had destroyed the one person the moon had chosen for him. It echoed through the empty rooms, filled with grief so profound it felt like his soul was being torn in two.

Nikolai doubled over, pressing his forehead to the cold marble floor. Blood from his knuckles and Lana’s body smeared across his skin. The medallion glowed brighter in his fist, its warm golden light pulsing gently against his palm — a cruel contrast to the carnage surrounding him.

*Elena.*

Her name was a knife in his heart.

Every memory he had suppressed now rose like ghosts to torment him.

The night on the coastal road — rain hammering down, her soft hands glowing with golden light as she poured her life force into his broken body. Her whispered words, “Stay with me… my Alpha.” The way she had trembled with exhaustion but refused to leave him.

He had woken up and chosen another woman.

The alliance dinner — the first time he saw her in that midnight blue gown. The way the fated mate bond had slammed into him like lightning. Instead of pulling her close, he had publicly declared Lana as his future Luna while Elena stood there watching.

He had humiliated her.

The garden confrontation — her tears mixing with the rain as she told him the truth. He had called her a liar. A power-hungry heiress. He had threatened to destroy her family if she didn’t release him from the betrothal.

And she had signed the papers.

With quiet dignity. With steel in her spine even as her heart was breaking.

Nikolai’s claws extended involuntarily, digging into the marble as another wave of guilt slammed into him. His wolf howled again — longer, more desperate this time. The sound reverberated through his bones, filled with self-loathing and primal sorrow.

He had danced with Lana while forcing Elena to watch.

He had let Lana poison his mind with lies and forged evidence.

He had nearly kissed Elena at the charity auction, then walked away and punished her for the pull he himself couldn’t resist.

All this time, his true mate had been right in front of him — healing his wolves in secret, protecting her family with quiet strength, offering him grace even when he offered her cruelty.

And he had thrown it all away for a thief.

A broken sob tore from Nikolai’s chest. The great Alpha — the man who had built an empire on blood and fear — curled in on himself on the blood-stained floor, shoulders shaking with the force of his regret.

The medallion pulsed warmly in his hand, as if trying to comfort him. Its golden light bathed his face, highlighting the tears cutting through the blood on his cheeks. He had never cried before. Not when his father died. Not when he took the Alpha position in a room full of corpses. Not once in his brutal rise to power.

But for Elena… he wept.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely to the empty room, voice cracking. “Gods, Elena… I’m so fucking sorry.”

His wolf continued to howl inside him — a constant, mourning cry that refused to be silenced. The beast was furious with him. It wanted to shift, to run through the forest until it found her, to drop at her feet and bare its throat in submission.

Nikolai pressed the glowing medallion to his forehead, eyes squeezed shut.

He could still feel her through the bond — a faint, distant throb of pain and quiet strength. She was hurting. Because of him. The knowledge was unbearable.

Every cruel word he had spoken replayed in his mind on an endless loop. The way her shoulders had trembled when he forced her to sign the dissolution papers. The single tear she had let fall at the gala while watching him dance with Lana.

He had broken her.

And now, surrounded by the evidence of his own violence, Nikolai Volkov finally understood the true cost of his blindness.

The Moonshadow Medallion continued to glow steadily in his hand, warm and forgiving, as if refusing to let him drown completely in his guilt. It was her light. Her power. The same light that had saved his life on that stormy road.

A fresh wave of agony tore through him.

He had thrown away the woman whose hands had pulled him from death.

For what?

A liar. A thief. A desperate woman who had manipulated his gratitude.

Nikolai remained on the floor for hours, surrounded by blood and broken glass, the medallion clutched to his chest like a dying man’s last prayer. His wolf’s howls gradually quieted into heartbroken whimpers.

When dawn finally broke over the city skyline, painting the room in pale gray light, Nikolai lifted his head.

His silver-flecked eyes were red-rimmed and hollow, but burning with new purpose.

The shattered Alpha had finally woken up.

Now the real work began.

He had to find Elena.

He had to beg.

He had to crawl through the fire he himself had created and pray that the woman he had broken still had enough mercy left in her heart to let him try to fix what he had destroyed.