The once-imposing gates of the gamma's mansion creaked open under the weight of finality. Ash and smoke from the earlier battle still lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the scent of pine and scorched earth. Hailey stood tall between Amira and Tehila, her posture unwavering even though her heart beat like a wild drum against her ribcage.

The moment she stepped into the hall, her mother was already rushing toward her. Sylvester—the Luna of the Poldark pack—looked less like a grieving mother and more like a woman caught in the humiliation of defeat. Her gown was impeccable as always, her hair swept into a neat braid crown, but her eyes—those calculating grey eyes—widened with something close to desperation.

“My daughter,” she said, stretching out her arms. “My sweet Hailey—”

But the moment her hand touched Hailey’s arm, Hailey jerked backward like she’d been burned. Sylvester gasped, hand still midair, her lips parting in confusion.

Hailey’s voice was ice and thunder. “Don’t you dare touch me.

Sylvester blinked, her composure cracking. “I’m your mother—”

“No,” Hailey said sharply, her voice echoing through the marble corridor. “You were never my mother. You watched as I was sold like livestock. You stood by while he gave me away to Ryker, like I was nothing.” Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “And now, for the first time in my life, I finally know what love and loyalty feel like. And it’s not from you.”

Sylvester lip trembled. “You’re confused. That man you trust—Varian—is dangerous.”

Before Hailey could respond, her father—the Gamma of Poldark, clad in his formal leather armor—stepped forward, his face rigid with disdain. “You will not disrespect your mother like this in front of the pack.”

Hailey turned to him slowly, her expression unreadable. “The pack watched you betray your own blood,” she said. “I don’t care if the whole world hears what I have to say.”

Her voice rose with the kind of fury that only years of being unheard could birth.

“I regret having you as my mother.”

A pin-drop silence fell. Sylvester's face went white, and her knees buckled slightly from the blow of her daughter’s words. But Hailey didn’t flinch. Not this time.

“And you,” she said, turning to her father, “you were never worthy of your title. You’re a Gamma who couldn’t even protect his own daughter. I was never your priority. Only power, status, and obedience mattered to you.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “You’ll regret speaking to us like this.”

“No,” Hailey said. “The only regret I have… is not leaving sooner.”

Behind her, Varian shifted in the shadows, massive and deadly in his midnight wolf form. His eyes—silver and glowing—watched Hailey with a quiet ferocity, like he was ready to tear apart anyone who moved against her.

“And I’ve found my mate,” Hailey said, lifting her chin high. “In him, I found safety. Trust. A future. Everything you denied me.”

Amira and Tehila stepped forward in unison, their faces solemn but proud.

“We’re going with her,” Tehila said, her dark curls falling across her shoulder as she threw a final glance around the place she once called home. “We don’t belong here anymore.”

“This isn’t a pack,” Amira added. “It’s a prison.”

Sylvester, still frozen in place, could barely whisper. “You’ll regret this…”

This is why your sister is better than you.....

But Hailey didn’t even turn around.

The last words she heard were from her father—cold, venomous, and brittle with hate.
“You will regret trusting that devil next to you.”

Hailey’s hands curled at her sides. She didn’t look back. Not once.

She walked past the stone pillars, past the bloodstains on the floor from the fight that had shaken the Poldark territory, and into the open clearing where Varian stood waiting.

Without hesitation, she reached for him.

Varian, now in his towering wolf form, lowered his head until Hailey could rest her hand against his snout. Then, wordlessly, she climbed onto his back, settling behind his massive shoulders. The warmth of his fur was comforting, a fortress of safety she never thought she’d have.

Amira and Tehila mounted two of the Crescent Pack hunters, who nodded respectfully at Hailey. Varian’s Gamma—Raynor—stood on the left, stoic with his long, dark hair braided down his back. His eyes were fierce, always watching, always calculating. On the right rode Varian’s Beta—Theo, broad and quick-tempered, his axe still bloodied from the last skirmish.

The Crescent warriors, about ten strong, took formation.

As the moonlight cascaded down, painting the forest path in hues of silver and shadow, the pack of victors turned away from the Poldark territory. Behind them lay silence. Ahead—freedom.

Varian let out a guttural, echoing howl. One of pride. Of warning. Of triumph.

And the forest responded.

Hailey leaned against his back, her fingers tangling into his fur. Her heart beat slower now, steadier. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, she wasn’t running toward survival—she was riding toward home.

She closed her eyes, listening to the rhythmic thud of paws against earth, the rustling trees parting like sentinels guiding them forward.

The Crescent Pack awaited.

And she would meet them not as a victim.

But as their Luna.

........
....

Hey lovely readers,

First of all—thank you. Truly, from the bottom of my heart. Every read, every little comment, every moment you spend with Hailey and Varian means more than words can say. You’ve stuck with me through the drama, the chaos, the slow burns, and those spicy almost-moments (you know the ones!).

I’m going to try my absolute best to be more consistent because you all deserve that—and because this story still has so much to give. So if you’re loving the journey, don’t be shy—support me by liking, sharing, or dropping your thoughts below. It keeps me going and helps this story grow wings!

Here’s to more love, rebellion, and unexpected kisses.
With all my chaotic writer love,
PearlyStarr

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘