The enforcers seized me by the arms.

“It wasn’t me! Moon above—open your eyes! She set this up! Myrielle baited the trap, not me!” I thrashed against their grip, my voice cracking.

“Draven!” I cried, desperate. “Weren’t you the one who swore to shield me? Look at me—look at my hands!”

But no one listened. Not the enforcers. Not him.

The only reply was the echoing thud of an iron cell door slamming shut.

Shadow swallowed me whole.

The burn on my palm mingled with the freezing bite of the cold cavern—heat and ice tearing at me in cruel waves.

As I shivered, memories clawed back through the dark.

cycles ago, in the outer farmlands of Silverhaze Territory, Draven’s drunken sire had nearly beaten him to death.

I could still see the terror in Draven’s young wolf-eyes.

Without thinking, I stepped between them. The strike meant for him crashed across my cheek, stars exploding in my vision.

Something inside Draven snapped. He went feral—cornered, wild—lashing out at the Alpha he feared. When the older wolf staggered, Draven grabbed my hand and dragged me into the storm.

We hid in my small den while the rain hammered the roof. I trembled as I held his hand; he clutched mine just as tightly, eyes fierce yet soft.

“Lunessa,” he whispered, “I’ll never let fear touch you again.”

Back then, he had been my refuge.

Now, he was the nightmare standing on the other side of the door.

The cold gnawed into my bones. I clenched my teeth, refusing to collapse.

My grandmother and father were still waiting for me to come home—waiting for me to keep our fragile lives from falling apart.

“Draven! Let me out!” I kicked the iron door again and again until my toes went numb and my knuckles bloodied. It didn’t move.

I didn’t know how long I lay there before the hinges finally groaned open.

Draven stepped inside with several warriors behind him, his expression unsettlingly gentle. “Lunessa,” he murmured, “are you cold?”

He reached toward me. My pupils trembled. My throat was so dry no words came out.

Then I saw the warrior holding a metal kettle, steam rising from the spout. My pulse lurched.

“Draven… what are you doing?” I forced my voice steady, terrified of the answers forming in my mind.

He didn’t reply. Only looked at me with a cold, unfamiliar gleam.

“Your greatest mistake,” he said softly, “was harming Myrielle.”

“I didn’t spill that broth!” I choked. “Check the scry-stones—check the hall runes—it wasn’t me! I swear on the Moon, it wasn’t me!”

He didn’t flinch.

He lifted a hand. The warriors pinned me to the freezing floor. I kicked, clawed, pleaded—but it didn’t matter.

A hiss split the air. An instant later, blistering agony ripped across my back as boiling water hit my skin.

I screamed, my throat tearing raw. My healing wounds burst open, flesh searing, blood sizzling where it met the heat.

I thought I knew pain before. I hadn’t. Not until now.

And through the agony, one regret echoed over and over.

I regretted following Draven. I regretted loving him. I regretted shielding him that night from his father. I regretted believing every promise he ever whispered.

Because loving him had ruined not just me—but my pack.

Draven watched in silence. His eyes were dark, endless, unreadable. He looked like he wanted to speak, but he stayed silent.

When it ended, he stepped close and draped his cloak over my shoulders.

“Lunessa,” he murmured, voice trembling, “be good. As long as you obey, I’ll treat you well.”

His gentleness was venom.

The world spun. Darkness swept in. I fainted.

***

I woke under a blindingly white healer-sanctum ceiling. The scent of herbs stung my nose. My back burned with every breath, pain sharp enough to steal sound from my throat.

The door slid open.

Calder’s attendant stepped inside, expression composed. “Luna Lunessa,” he said evenly, “the separation pact has been drafted.”

He continued, “Master Calder wished to deliver it himself, but he was summoned to another territory. He asked me to remind you—you have five days. If you secure Alpha Draven’s mark within that time, he’ll handle the rest. You’ll have a way out.”

My gaze was empty. Lifeless. I took the parchments and clutched them to my chest.

During the following days, while waiting for the pact’s progress, I quietly arranged for my father and grandmother to be transferred to healing dens outside the kingdom.

But Myrielle kept them under tight watch, refusing any relocation—she wanted control.

Three days later would be her birthday gathering. My one chance.

“Lunessa, you will attend Myrielle’s celebration.

Draven’s tone was cold, commanding. “Your father’s recovery depends entirely on her. At the gathering, you will declare that your grandmother’s Moon-healing was done with your consent.”

He added, voice like ice, “Your father’s outburst at the Hall has already embarrassed the Blackspire name. Myrielle suffered humiliation because of you. You will correct it.”

My heart pounded, fury and despair twisting inside me.

“Draven, have you lost your mind?! Myrielle is the reason my grandmother still lies in the Healing Den—what she did was a crime! And you want me to lie for her?!”

He stepped close, his breath brushing my ear, too gentle to be anything but cruel.

“Lunessa… this is truly the last time. Myrielle’s father hasn’t acted yet. If he does… I don’t want you hurt. Just behave. Don’t provoke her.”

A tremor ran through me. Humiliation and pain tangled until breathing became a struggle.

“As long as you agree,” he said, “I’ll ensure your father walks again. If you refuse…”

The rest carved through my chest like a blade.

I lifted my hand to slap him, but he caught my wrist. “Lunessa,” he murmured, almost tender, “don’t make this difficult.”

The man before me was a stranger. The same wolf who once sheltered me was now my captor, weighing my obedience like a verdict.

Disgust. Rage. Revulsion. All of it boiled until only hatred remained—deep and relentless.

I steadied my voice. “Fine. I’ll go. But you’ll secure a den for my father and grandmother to live in.”

I turned to the last page of the supposed den agreement—secretly the unmating parchment—and handed it to him.

Once he placed his mark, our unmating would take effect immediately.

And two days later, I would take what remained of my pack…and leave him forever.

As long as he placed his alpha mark on this parchment, our severe bond would take effect immediately.

And two nights later, under the waning moon, I would finally be able to take my small pack and walk away from him forever.

Relief softened his features. He pressed his mark seal down without hesitation.

“It’s just a small denstead,” he said lightly. “You could’ve asked for it anytime.”

His indifference cut deeper than any fang. My suffering, my fury—none of it mattered to him.

I slipped the marked scroll into my bag. My last fragile hope.

The Moonrise banquet was held in the grandest Howlcrest Hall at the center of the city territory. Moonlit marble gleamed under the enchanted chandeliers and my stomach twisted as I crossed the threshold.

Before entering, Draven leaned close, voice low and warning. “Once we’re inside, don’t speak unless spoken to. The Molthaven wolves dislike loudness.”

I pressed my lips together and nodded. Before I could answer, he had already donned his charming alpha smile and strode ahead, greeting Myrielle’s parents with a raised goblet.

I lifted the hem of my gown and walked alone toward Myrielle’s private moon-lounge.

The moment I pushed open the door, the chamber fell silent. Nearly two dozen she-wolves stared at me.

Myrielle lounged lazily on a velvet couch, her moon-silk dress nearly identical to mine. Her gaze skimmed over me, lips curling in a soft, mocking smile.

“Oh my, what a coincidence,” she purred. “Your dress mirrors mine, Lunessa.”

Her friends burst into shrill laughter.

“Wearing the same gown to the Alpha’s daughter’s moon celebration? How shameful.”

“Why don’t we rip hers off? That’ll solve it.”

“Yes—can’t have her stealing the moonlight from the birthday star.”

Their laughter sliced like claws.

I clenched my fists. “I’ll change. I’ll go to the wash chamber.”

Before I could move, a sharp slap cracked across my cheek.

Heat flashed through my skin.

“Who told you to speak?” one she-wolf sneered. “Myrielle hasn’t given permission. Know your place, den-born mutt.”

Their laughter swelled again, echoing around me.

I trembled, rage shaking my bones.

Then Myrielle rose with false grace, her tone dripping honey.

“Don’t be upset, Lunessa. They’re only teasing.”

But she lifted her moon-crystal communicator, pressing record, her voice turning sweet and venomous.

“You don’t mind if I take a little record, right? Last time you nearly accused me of trying to kill you and that really harmed my standing. I think it’s only fair to clear things up.”

Her eyes gleamed coldly. “The healing ritual wasn’t my fault. But your father’s outburst—and your behavior—that’s what caused trouble for me.”

My blood turned to ice. To her, my grandmother’s life, my father’s broken leg—meant nothing. Only her reputation mattered.

Her friends stepped closer, laughter curling like smoke.

“How can a denborn wear the same gown as Myrielle? Let’s help her remove it.”

“I don’t need your help!” I screamed, clutching the fabric, but they were stronger.

The gown tore. Cold air hit my bare skin.

Then the chamber went dead silent.

“Oh gods—what’s on her back?”

“Those look like burn scars… and blade marks.”

“No wonder Draven doesn’t want her. Look at that ruined body.”

Humiliation scorched me raw. My breath shook; my blood roared in my ears.

To them, I wasn’t a wolf. Just something to mock.

I was about to snap when the door burst open. Draven strode in.

Myrielle’s eyes flickered. She hurried to me, draping a coat over my shoulders, her tone syrup-sweet.

“Lunessa, don’t hurt yourself, alright? If you want to apologize, say it properly.”

I was too shocked, too exposed, too raw to shove her away.

Draven’s brow furrowed. His voice turned sharp.

“What happened?”

Myrielle lowered her gaze, feigning innocence. “She came in crying, saying she wanted to tear off her gown to make it up to me. We all tried to stop her… but she wouldn’t listen.”

“That’s a lie!” I choked. “You forced them! Draven, check the scry-stones—there are runes in here!”

I knew there were. Every elite lounge had moon-etched recording sigils.

Draven didn’t even look at me. His lip curled.

“Lunessa, don’t sink this low. Stop framing Myrielle.”

My knees buckled. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Myrielle sighed sweetly. “She probably didn’t mean it…”

Draven cut her off coldly. “Don’t blame her. She grew up feral—it made her cunning.”

I collapsed, fingers digging so hard into my palms that blood trickled onto the marble floor.

In that moment, something worse than Myrielle’s cruelty became clear.

It was Draven’s blindness.

His devotion to her.

His betrayal of me.

A bitter, cracked laugh tore from my throat.

“So this is how lowly you see me, Alpha Draven,” I whispered, voice scraping like gravel.

“In your eyes… I’m truly nothing more than that kind of she-wolf.”

Tears finally spilled, dripping onto the moonstone tiles beneath my feet.

Something flickered across Draven’s expression—a faint crease of confusion, a hint of sensing my inner turmoil through the weakened bond—but before he could speak, Myrielle’s melodic voice sliced in.

“Draven,” she cooed, threading her arm through his. “Everyone’s gathered. Why don’t we head to the training grounds? It’s my name-day. We should do something spirited.”

The guests chimed in instantly.

“Yes! A run with the spirit-steeds sounds perfect!”

“Let’s go!”

Whatever Draven had been about to say vanished.

“Fine,” he said curtly. Then he glanced at me. “Change into something proper. Let’s put what happened earlier behind us.”

I didn’t respond. I pulled away from his hand, turned my back and changed into the garments his attendant delivered.

When he saw his palm left hanging in the air, a flash of confusion crossed his face—like he’d just realized something precious had slipped from his grasp.

The spirit-steed grounds spread wide under the hot afternoon sun, smelling of dust and enchanted leather. Moonbred stallions raced across the field, their hooves thundering against the earth.

Myrielle had changed into a pale riding set embroidered with lunar sigils, the sunlight making her glow with deliberate radiance. Draven stood by her side, adjusting her gloves, tightening the saddle’s arcane straps—every motion gentle, practiced, intimate.

She turned suddenly, feigning surprise when her gaze fell upon me.

“Oh, you’re here too, Lunessa,” she said sweetly. “You were raised in the outer territories, weren’t you? Ever ridden a spirit-steed before?”

I froze a second, then shook my head. “No.”

That single word sent her friends into laughter.

“Of course she hasn’t! Probably spent her days mucking dens and chasing goats!”

“Careful—she might still smell like a barnyard omega!”

They pinched their noses, wrinkling them in mock disgust.

The laughter stabbed through me like shards of ice.

My fists clenched until my nails nearly pierced my palms, lips tightening into a pale line.

Draven stood nearby… but said nothing. He only frowned faintly before lowering his head again to fasten the last strap on Myrielle’s boot—tender, precise, protective.

I stood behind them, silently begging the moons for the moment to end.

A sudden, violent neigh split the air.

A massive stallion broke free—wild, frenzied, lunatic with moon-energy—charging straight toward the crowd. Its hooves shook the ground like rolling thunder.

“Move!” someone shouted.

Chaos erupted instantly.

My breath hitched—the beast was barreling toward us. Toward me, Draven and Myrielle.

For a heartbeat, Draven’s gaze locked on mine.

Hesitation. Conflict. A flicker of something—fear? Or guilt?

Then he moved. He shoved me aside—hard.

Pain ripped through my shoulder as I hit the ground, my half-healed wounds tearing open along the wolf-marked scars.

Through blurred vision, I saw him lunge—not toward me—but toward Myrielle. He wrapped her in his arms, shielding her as they rolled across the grass.

The stallion thundered past them, its hooves missing by inches.

Screams spread across the field as panic swallowed everything.

I lay curled near the fence, blood seeping through my torn garments, fingers trembling. No one came. No one looked.

When I finally lifted my head, Draven was cradling Myrielle, panic etched into his face, calling her name with a rawness I had never heard directed at me.

Moments later, he swept her into his arms and ran toward the pack convoy, shouting orders. Within seconds, they were gone.

And I was left behind—alone in the dirt.

No one noticed my fall. No one saw the blood. No one cared.

I stared at the burning sky, an eerie calm spreading through my chest.

So this is how it feels… when a heart finally dies.

I forced myself up, my body shaking and every breath burning with pain. With trembling fingers, I pulled out my crystal-comm and made the call.

When the call connected, Calder’s attendant answered, voice steady and respectful.

“Luna Lunessa?”

I swallowed. “Have my grandmother and father been relocated to the safehold?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Everything proceeded according to your instructions. They’re secure.”

“…Good.” My voice barely existed.

I ended the call. My eyes stung, but not a single tear fell.

Seconds later, my crystal-comm buzzed. My Wolf-law-speaker.

A photo of the severance contract—the pack’s equivalent of a divorce—appeared on the screen.

Two names carved in lunar ink.

Mine. Draven’s.

A message followed:

[It’s finalized.]

I stared for a long moment, then forwarded it to Draven’s mother. My message was only two words: Ninety-nine million.

The crystal-comm rang instantly. Her voice brimmed with satisfaction.

“Excellent. I’ll have the treasurer transfer the full sum now. Lunessa, you’ve finally made the wise choice. Take the credits—and stay far from Draven.”

I looked at the screen as the payment notification flashed. My chest felt like an empty cavern.

“Mm,” I murmured, ending the call and blocking her.

I limped toward the gates of the territory, using the wall for balance.

***

Two hours later, the roar of a skyship echoed overhead.

I leaned back in my seat, pulled up the image of the severance contract one last time, sent it to Draven—then blocked him as well.

[Draven, this is my last gift to you.]

[From this moment on— the mountains stand high, the rivers run long and even in life or death… our paths will never cross again.]