I was buried under my blankets, trying to sleep the day away, when a call from Rosa woke me up. She sounded hesitant. “Luna, could you do me a huge favor and get a painting from the Alpha’s studio? It needs to be delivered to an important client today.”

I knew the painting. It was a canvas of blooming sunflowers. Julian had painted it to celebrate our first anniversary as mates. A client once offered him an insane amount of money for it, but he refused to sell.

He had held my hand that day and told me, “I can’t paint your soul, so I can never truly capture your beauty. But in my heart, you are my sun, my eternal sunshine.”

The memory made my eyes sting. “Just call Julian,” I said, my voice hoarse.

I was about to hang up, but Rosa spoke quickly. “The Alpha isn’t answering his phone, and you’re the only one who can get into his studio. Please, Luna. Please help me out.”

Hearing her practically begging, I sighed, hung up, and dragged myself to his studio.

When I opened the door, a massive canvas covered by a red cloth stood in the center of the room. All his other paintings, including the sunflowers I was there for, were crammed into corners.

I picked up the sunflower painting, intending to just leave. But as I was closing the door, my eyes were drawn back to that shrouded canvas. A strange impulse took over, and I walked back in, pulling the cloth away.

Sylvie’s smiling face stared back at me.

It was like being plunged into a frozen lake in the middle of a blazing summer.

My fingertips went numb, and I started to tremble uncontrollably.

The sunflower painting in my hand felt like a joke compared to this massive, adoring portrait. I was a fucking clown.

“Ha!”

A laugh burst out of me, sharp and broken. I laughed until I was bent over, until tears streamed from my eyes.

What a complete and utter fool I’ve been.

I thought I was his savior, his goddess. I thought I meant something to him.

But this… this was like a series of slaps to the face, each one harder than the last.

It was telling me that I, Eleanor Thorne, had been nothing but a self-deceiving, pathetic idiot all along.

“My daughter, do you regret it?”

The Moon Goddess’s Whisper echoed in my mind again.

I dropped the painting I was holding and wiped the tears from my eyes. “Why do you keep waking up on your own today?” I asked casually.

The sacred voice was tinged with pity. “The connection only switches from dormant to guardian mode when it senses extreme fluctuations in your soul.”

“My daughter, you do not seem well.”

I wandered around the studio until I found a utility knife. I started slicing through the sunflower canvas as I replied, “I’m fine. Never been better.”

“Oh, and by the way, I regret it. I want to leave this world.”

I thought I heard the Moon Goddess chuckle softly.

“My daughter, confirming your request. Do you wish to detach from this world?”

“Mhm,” I hummed, stopping my destruction. I looked at the ruined painting in my hands, took a picture, and sent it to Julian.

A mechanical voice sounded in my head. “Detachment mode initiated. You will return to the Moon Goddess’s embrace in three days. Method of departure: your choice.”

I smiled. I remembered how Julian’s mother died. Wasn’t it lunar madness, followed by a leap from a cliff?

Julian got back fast. He was clearly in a hurry; his collar was crooked, and his forehead was beaded with sweat.

He stared at the shredded painting on the floor, then looked up at me. “You were too impulsive,” he said flatly.

I didn’t say anything, just kept smiling at him. His gaze shifted past me to the unveiled portrait of Sylvie. For a second, his eyes filled with panic.

“Ella, it’s not what you think. Let me explain.”

I shrugged. “Fine. Explain.”

He seemed thrown off by how calm I was. He opened his mouth, but the words came out haltingly. “She was so sad…”

I scratched my head, wondering how I could have been so blind as to fall for someone like him.

It must have been fate. That afternoon, all those years ago, I never should have set foot in that art museum.

Sighing, I moved to walk past him and out the door.

Julian’s hand shot out and clamped around my wrist, his grip like steel. He didn’t speak, just stared at me, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Based on fifteen years of experience, that look usually meant he wanted me to comfort him.

But I just glanced down at his hand. “Julian, you’re hurting me,” I said softly.

He flinched and let go. My wrist was already bright red.

He looked at my wrist, wanting to touch it but not daring to. “I’m sorry, Ella. I didn’t mean to.”

I waved it off. “It’s fine.” Since the detachment protocol had started, the Moon Goddess had blocked all my pain receptors.

Julian seemed to notice something was off. He frowned. “Ella, aren’t you angry at all?”

Wow, the nerve of this guy. When I was upset, he told me to be more understanding. Now that I’m calm, he’s not satisfied either.

I pointed to the ruined painting. “I was angry. That’s why I destroyed it.”

“But, like you said, you don’t have feelings for Sylvie. It’s just because of your childhood trauma. So, it’s okay. I got my anger out, and now I’m fine.”

Julian looked even more confused, almost anxious. He kept rubbing his fingers together, studying my expression.

I smiled sweetly. “By the way, you wanted to give the gallery to Sylvie, right? I agree.”

“But on one condition,” I said, stepping closer to straighten his crooked collar. “You know I’ve always wanted you to paint a portrait of me. You seem to be over your psychological block now. So, as part of the deal, you paint my portrait, and I’ll hand the gallery over to Sylvie.”

“What do you think? It’s a pretty good deal, right?”

Julian stood frozen for a long moment before finally forcing out, “I’m not breaking our bond.”

I laughed. “I never said anything about breaking our bond. Don’t worry. All I want is a portrait.”

A funeral portrait.