On the day of my nineteenth Moonbinding Ceremony with Draven, future Alpha of the Blackspire Pack, my grandmother collapsed—struck down by a sudden heart failure during a surge of moon energy.

My mate's first moon mate—Myrielle, desperate to prove herself as the youngest Heartmender in the kingdom—slipped into the healing chamber without reporting to the Elders.

But the treatment failed. My grandmother didn’t wake up after that.

When my father knelt at the gates of the Moonspire healer-sanctum, begging the High Healers for justice, masked wolves dragged him into the shadows, shoved a hood over his head and beat him until both his legs shattered.

Anger overwhelmed me. I headed to the Moon Guard outpost to report Myrielle, but on the way, Draven’s wolf-drawn carriage hit me hard.

My ribs snapped. Bones splintered. I was rushed into the Main Healer chamber, half-conscious, icy moonlight flickering above me.

As the healers pushed my bed down the stone passageway, I heard one of Draven’s pack brothers murmur casually,

“First, the ceremonial den burns down. Now her grandmother’s ‘accident.’ Draven, how many excuses do you need to delay the Moonbinding again?”

A tremor ran through me. My blood turned to frost.

Then I heard Draven’s calm voice—the same Alpha who once swore under the full moon that he’d love me for eternity.

“There won’t be another delay.”

“Wait,” his friend lowered his voice, “you’re really going through with bonding yourself to her? What about your little first moon mate sweetheart?”

Draven’s tone softened—a softness that sliced me open like a claw.

“During the three darkest cycles of my life, Lunessa stayed by my side. I vowed to repay that loyalty.”

“But after returning to the Blackspire Pack and meeting Myrielle again… she’s the she-wolf I always thought would stand beside me. That kind of love doesn’t disappear.”

He exhaled. “Nineteen postponed ceremonies already… that was my selfishness. If Lunessa just behaves and lets the charges against Myrielle go, I’ll fulfill my promise to her.”

I couldn’t breathe.

So this was what lay beneath every delay.

I had once believed fate was simply cruel, that the Moon Goddess had tested us.

The first ceremony—canceled after Myrielle’s moon-beast attacked me, I was taken to the healing chamber.

The second—after Draven insisted on guiding me through an enchanted lake and I nearly drowned.

The third—after a supposed “enemy” stabbed me during a nighttime ambush.

But now I knew the truth.

Each tragedy… each “accident”… orchestrated by him.

Because he never wanted to bond with me.

And this time, to escape the binding, he let Myrielle’s treatment fail—leaving my grandmother trapped in a silent body.

Tears blurred my vision. My heart felt carved open, but one truth rose sharp as a fang: I would never remain in this false engagement.

With shaking hands, I called Draven’s mother, Carmina—the Blackspire Matriarch.

My voice trembled, but my will did not.

“I accept your offer. One hundred million moon-credits. I’ll leave Draven and disappear from his life forever.”

——

There was a cold pause, then her elegant voice drifted through the receiver.

“Seven days. You have seven days to pack and vanish from Draven’s territory.”

“I’ll transfer one million now. The remaining ninety-nine will be released the moment you leave.”

She hung up without another word.

I sat frozen on the healing bed. Tears refused to fall, yet an impossible weight crushed my chest.

The door opened.

Draven stepped inside, lifting my hand as if the carriage accident he caused was nothing more than an unfortunate mishap.

“Don’t blame Myrielle,” he said softly. “She overreached, that’s all. The failed treatment wasn’t entirely her fault.”

“She…” My voice cracked. “She turned my grandmother into a lifeless husk!”

“She regrets it,” he interrupted gently. “She hasn’t eaten, hasn’t slept. She plans to apologize to you.”

Then, in that calm, coaxing Alpha tone:

“I’ll handle your father’s case and your grandmother’s care. Just trust me, Lunessa. Don’t cause trouble. We’ll complete our Moonbinding soon.”

Moonbinding…

His eyes flickered with something I couldn’t name.

I remembered the conversation I overheard—and understanding hit me like a blade.

“I don’t want her apology!” I snapped. “She hurt someone—she must pay!”

His expression darkened instantly. “Lunessa, you continue to disappoint me.”

He lifted his crystal communicator, its cold light glinting in his eyes.

“Withdraw the charges against Myrielle… or your father loses his chance to ever walk again. You have thirty seconds.”

My lungs seized. Breath escaped me.

Why? Why had everything twisted into this nightmare?

Where was the wolf-boy my father once sheltered from bullies, the boy mocked for being a “fake pack heir” to the Blackspire bloodline?

Where was the young wolf who blushed when my grandmother handed him extra food and whispered, ‘No one’s ever done this for me before.’

Where was the man who once vowed, ‘I’ll love you forever, Lunessa.’

Seven cycles ago, Draven was revealed to be the wrong son—switched at birth. When the truth came out, he was sent back to his biological pack in the countryside.

He stood outside the crumbling den next to ours, clothes torn, eyes empty.

I was the one who reached for him, shared my meals, defended him when the pack member mocked him, telling him he still mattered.

We grew up together. Those lunar academy cycles were the brightest of my life.

But after we passed the academy exams, the Blackspire Pack suddenly demanded he return.

Before leaving, he held my hands and whispered. “Come with me, Lunessa. I’ll protect you. One day, I’ll make you my Luna.”

I believed him.

Then, in the Alpha Kingdom’s academy, Myrielle resurfaced—his elegant, high-born first moon mate fiancée.

At banquets, they stood beneath moon-crystal chandeliers, perfectly matched.

And I—awkward, out of place—clutched my goblet in the shadows like a fool.

Back then, Draven would still take my hand and declare before everyone.

“This is my betrothed.”

He helped build my craft, defended me from jealous wolves, even crossed entire territories to care for me when I was ill.

I never doubted his love. Until now.

Looking at his cold, unyielding face, hearing his threats, I realized—all that tenderness was guilt.

Not love.

His heart had always been Myrielle’s.

And I… I had been nothing but a debt to repay. A wildflower he pitied.

My love was a cruel joke.

“Three… two—”

“Fine,” I whispered. “I’ll do it.”

Draven paused, then smiled faintly. He pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on my head.

“Good girl. Just endure this one last time. I’ll make it up to you.”

But as he held me, my gaze caught the back of his crystal communicator.

A charm—etched with a picture of him and Myrielle, younger, faces pressed together, smiling.

My heart stopped.

He had never liked using charms. I begged him once, but he refused, calling them childish.

Yet now… he carried her face everywhere.

My voice trembled. “Can you… arrange my father’s healing ritual now?”

“Of course,” he murmured. “I’ll—”

The door burst open.

Myrielle’s maid ran in, breathless. “Alpha Draven! Lady Molthaven just collapsed!”

Draven’s expression snapped. He dropped my hand and sprinted for the door.

“Draven!” I cried. “My father’s healing procedure—!”

But he shoved my wound-bindingsd hand aside, disgust twisting his expression.

Pain shot through me like a blade.

All the warmth he ever showed turned to ice shards slicing through my heart. He disappeared without a backward glance.

The world went white. A silent scream burned in my throat.

Draven… since you’ve chosen betrayal so ruthlessly—then in seven days, I will vanish from your life. And you will never see me again.

The one million moon-credits from the Blackspire Matriarch arrived sooner than expected.

I clutched the stamped lunar seal so tightly my fingers trembled as I sprinted toward the healer-sanctum, desperate to pay the deposit for my father’s moon-mending ritual. His shattered leg couldn’t wait any longer.

But moments after I handed the payment to the registrar and prepared to confirm the ritual time with the High Moon-Healer, a young maid stepped in front of me.

“All the bone-menders… every last one,” she whispered, eyes wide with fear, “have been reassigned.”

I blinked at her, stunned, thinking it must have been a clerical shift or ritual scheduling error.

When I asked for an explanation, she leaned in, voice barely above a breath.

“It was Alpha Draven’s command. The specialists were summoned to tend to Lady Molthaven.”

Myrielle Molthaven. The name hit me like a blow.

“Lady Molthaven hasn’t eaten in days,” the maid went on nervously. “She fainted this morning… and twisted her ankle when she fell. The Alpha was worried about long-term damage, so he ordered the entire bone-menders circle to examine her.”

A piercing ring filled my ears. The hallway warped and tilted.

I seized the girl’s wrist. “Please—my father can’t wait! His leg won’t heal on its own. He needs the ritual now!”

The maid swallowed, but her gaze slid away.

No one in the healer-sanctum dared defy an Alpha’s directive.

Half out of my mind with panic, I ran toward Myrielle’s recovery chamber, only to have two pack sentinels block my way.

From inside, I heard her fragile, airy voice.

“Draven… is that Lunessa outside?”

The door slid open.

Alpha Draven stood framed in the light—tall, composed, his aura cold enough to frost the stone floors. His dark eyes swept over my disheveled face and for a heartbeat, his brows drew together.

Then his voice struck like a blade.

“Lunessa, how could you be so heartless? Myrielle hasn’t eaten because she feels guilty about you. Now she’s hurt herself and you dare question me for calling healers? You’re behaving like a pup.”

Something inside me cracked. “He’s tended our pack’s far fields since before I took my first breath! If that leg gives out—his whole world crumbles! You know what this means for him!”

He exhaled sharply, dismissive. “It’s only a few days’ delay. He’s not dying. Stop causing a scene.”

My blood turned to ice.

Inside, Myrielle sat on her bed, wrapped in pale furs, her figure trembling just enough to seem delicate. She lifted her shimmering eyes toward him.

“Draven… don’t scold her. It’s my fault. If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t be so upset. Maybe you should just let the healers—”

“Don’t worry about her,” Draven interrupted softly, adjusting her blanket with tender care. “She’s being unreasonable.”

Something in me shattered beyond repair.

Tears blurred my vision as my hand swung on instinct.

Crack.

My palm met his cheek with a sharp, echoing slap.

“If the healer-sanctum won’t treat my father,” I choked out, chest heaving, “then I’ll take him elsewhere.”

Draven’s expression iced over, fury flickering in his eyes. But before he could speak, Myrielle laughed—a quiet, mocking trill.

“Transfer him?” she echoed sweetly.

“You think moving a patient in his condition is easy? What if something goes wrong during carriage? Can you afford another setback?”

Her gaze drifted lazily toward me, a poisonous glimmer lighting her eyes.

“But…” she added, voice dripping honey, “I might be willing to help. If you kneel. Beg me properly. Press your forehead to the ground and apologize.”

My body stiffened.

Draven—The man who once swore to protect me—didn’t even flinch.

He simply nodded and said, calm and cold,

“She’s offering you mercy, Lunessa. Stop being stubborn. And now you’re striking people? Really?”

He touched his cheek, unreadable. “Do as she asks. Myrielle deserves to be happy.”

I looked between them—the Alpha I had trusted with my heart and the woman who now smiled at my father’s suffering.

My vision blurred until both of them became distorted shapes. But my father… my father was still waiting.

Biting back a sob, I lowered myself to my knees.

Bang!

My forehead struck the stone tiles, pain exploding through my skull.

Blood trickled down my temple. I bowed again.

And again.

My voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and broken. “Please… I’m begging you… let my father have his ritual…”

The world dimmed at the edges.

From the bed, Myrielle’s lilting voice drifted out. “Draven, my ankle really hurts… will you massage it?”

Without looking at me—not even once—Draven knelt beside her and began to gently rub her foot.

Something inside me went utterly, completely silent.

Time passed in a blur.

Eventually, Draven finally lifted his head, frowning slightly as though annoyed by the sight of me bleeding on the floor.

“That’s enough,” he said flatly.

He turned to his beta-maid.

“Arrange the moon-menders. Her father will have his ritual.”

My entire body trembled as I pushed myself upright, using the wall for support. My legs felt like lead, as if bound in chains.

Draven stepped toward me, hand outstretched—almost gentle.

I flinched back violently.

For a split second, shock flickered in his eyes.

As if he truly couldn’t comprehend why I would recoil from his touch.

But I didn’t wait.

Ignoring the agony ripping through my skull and chest, I turned and staggered down the stone passageway—toward my father’s chamber.

After my father’s moon-mending ritual, the Senior Bone-Mender told me that although the procedure had technically succeeded, the delay had weakened the bone’s lunar fusion. There would be lasting consequences.

My legs buckled and I collapsed onto the cold stone floor of the healer-sanctum. Tears poured down my face, unstoppable.

If Alpha Draven hadn’t commanded the entire Bone-Mender Circle to tend to Myrielle’s twisted ankle, my father wouldn’t have suffered like this.

When my sobs finally quieted, I sensed another presence in the stone passageway.

Calder—true heir of the Blackspire Pack, the Alpha-born son. My former neighbor.

He had always been aloof. As pups, every time I tried to approach him, he pushed me away. Even after he returned from warrior training at the Capital Moonscourt, he stayed distant. We were never close.

Now, his expression remained unreadable, but he extended a clean handkerchief without a word.

I blinked, dazed, before accepting it.

“I know you swore to my mother that you would sever your bond with Draven,” he said calmly. “But understand this—leaving him without endangering your pack won’t be simple.”

My fingers tightened around the cloth, but my voice held steady. “I know. But I’m still leaving.”

Calder’s dark wolf-eyes lingered on me for a long moment before he spoke again. “If you’ve truly decided, I can assist you. Dissolving the mate-mark, relocating your kin to another territory—even a new life beyond the borders. I can arrange all of it.”

My heartbeat stuttered. My throat tightened. I wanted to ask why he would help me, but I feared the question would make the fragile offer vanish. So I simply nodded.

He paused, then said casually, almost lazily, “When the time comes, all I’ll need in return… is Draven’s weakness.”

He turned and strode away. I clutched the handkerchief, the pain inside me slowly crystallizing into numbness.

The Blackspire Pack—once you entered, escaping was harder than getting in.

When Draven and I had just come of age, he had dragged me—almost desperately—to the Pack Bonding Shrine.

“Lunessa, I’m too weak right now,” he had whispered, eyes red, arms trembling as he held me close. “If we bind early, I can protect you. I swear I’ll give you a real mating ceremony later—grand and radiant—so no one dares disrespect you.”

I believed him. I never imagined that “later” would never come, that the ceremony he promised was never even planned.

And once the mate-mark was etched, escaping became almost impossible.

Leaving Draven wasn’t just ending a bond—it meant breaking the web of power and pack politics ensnaring me.

If I sought separation, the Elder Alpha would rage. Draven himself would never release me—unless I walked away with nothing and he willingly signed the unbinding rites.

But why should I leave with nothing?

I was the one who saved his life when he was bleeding out under the Blood Moon. I was the one who gave up my scholarship at Moonscourt Academy to remain by his side.

Why should the one to walk away empty-handed… be me?

Still, I knew Draven. He couldn’t distinguish love from guilt—he was addicted to repaying kindness.

Thankfully, Calder had promised to handle the rituals and parchments. All I needed was Draven’s alpha mark.

That night, I returned home with a basket of ingredients to brew moon-herb broth for my father.

The moment the broth finished simmering, I heard footsteps.

Draven entered—carrying Myrielle in his arms.

Her ankle was wrapped in glowing lunar gauze. She leaned into him, pale and delicate, as though the slightest breeze could shatter her.

“Lunessa, you’re home?” Draven frowned, worry flashing through his eyes. “You’re still not fully healed. You should be resting in the healer-sanctum. Let the house maid handle the cooking.”

I met his gaze evenly. “You sent all the maids to Myrielle’s manor to make her moon-desserts. Remember?”

It had been an offhand remark—Myrielle claiming she preferred my maid’s food over hers. The next day, Draven sent every maid we had to her estate, leaving me feverish, cooking alone.

He froze, realization flickering in his eyes. His expression tightened before he smoothly shifted the subject.

“Regardless… Myrielle didn’t want to remain in the healer-sanctum. She’ll stay here for a few days—until her injury recovers.”

“Do as you wish,” I whispered, turning back to the simmering pot. I refused to dwell on why Myrielle had abandoned her mansion full of servants just to be coddled by him.

My words made him stiffen. His brows pinched and he kept watching me, as though trying to decode what had changed.

Then Myrielle’s voice—soft as dew—broke the silence.

“Draven… I’m a little hungry. Lunessa’s broth smells wonderful. Do you think… I might have a taste?”

He immediately turned. “Lunessa, serve her a bowl. She ensured the healers tended to your father today. She wanted to make amends.”

Make amends?

The very wolf who delayed his ritual until he nearly ended up lame—now wanted to “make amends for it” by sipping my broth?

But refusing her would endanger my father.

So I lowered my head and ladled the broth.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” Myrielle murmured, feigning distress. “This must be for Elder Silverhaze. I’ve caused so many troubles—I shouldn’t take a drop…”

“It’s fine,” Draven said quickly, soothing. “Lunessa doesn’t blame you. Right, Lunessa?”

His sharp gaze pinned me like a command.

My throat closed. No words came out.

Seeing my silence, Myrielle’s eyes gleamed with victory. She stepped forward, pretending to reach for the bowl.

“Lunessa, you’re so kind,” she cooed. “Draven and I grew up together. You’re his mate—I truly hope we can get along.”

Her hand brushed mine—soft, fragile.

Then, hidden from Draven’s line of sight, she pressed my wrist onto the scorching rim of the moon-forged pot.

“Ah—!” White-hot agony shot up my arm. My knees almost gave way.

“What happened?!” Draven rushed toward us.

In that split second, Myrielle released me—and knocked the bowl over.

Scalding broth splashed across my arms and chest. I screamed. A few drops hit her skin, leaving tiny red marks.

“Ah!” she cried dramatically, collapsing into his arms. “Draven, I only wanted to apologize… but Lunessa grew angry—she said she’d rather spill the broth than let me taste it! If I hadn’t moved, I would’ve been burned much worse…”

She showed him her faintly reddened skin, trembling like a frightened pup.

Draven’s face hardened.

“It wasn’t me!” I cried, showing my blistered hand. “She grabbed me—she pushed my hand onto the pot!”

But he didn’t even look.

“Lunessa,” he said coldly, “how could you be so vicious? Do you understand how important her hands are? Are you trying to ruin Myrielle’s healer training?”

“Draven!” I choked, tears blurring my vision. “Look at me! I’m the one burned—far worse than she is! Why won’t you believe me?!”

His glare turned sharp with disgust. “If she hadn’t dodged, she’d be the one burned. How could you stoop so low? It’s sickening.”

His words struck harder than any blow.

He turned away and cradled Myrielle protectively. “Don’t fear. I’ll take you back to the healer-sanctum.”

As I watched them, something inside me tore open.

Then Draven barked an order that shattered whatever strength I had left.

“Someone lock Lunessa in the cold cavern. Let her reflect on her behavior.”

The breath left my lungs.

He knew—he knew I feared the cold. He knew the cavern was kept eighteen degrees below freezing by lunar crystals.

And yet, he still chose to cast me into it.

So this was his love—the love he once swore would protect me.