Izara's POV

We never sealed the bond. No Luna ceremony, no wedding—because Alpha Mavros never planned for me to be the Luna of the Amunar pack.

That wedding eight years ago? A joke. A damn performance to keep my parents happy. They wanted their precious daughter to settle down with her fated mate. They trusted him. Believed he’d take care of me, Vivian, and the pack. But me? I wasn’t fooled.

Deep down, I knew he resented them. Hated them for not helping the Avalons when their pack was slaughtered, leaving him a blood-soaked orphan. I begged my parents to take him in. Me. And now, here he was, glaring at me like I was dirt under his boots, his lips curling into that cruel, condescending smirk.

“What’s this tantrum, Izara? Pathetic, as usual. Another empty threat? First, you use your son, and now you’re using yourself?”

The words cut deep, but I was used to them. Mavros always acted like Kallias’s illness was my way of manipulating him. Guilt-tripping him into showing up. But he didn’t get it. He never got it. Kallias wasn’t a game. He was our son. His illness was real—the healer said as much. And all my boy wanted was his father. Just once.

Every time Kallias’s face lit up, waiting, hoping... only for that hope to shatter when Mavros didn’t come—it broke me.

I felt the tears building, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him. I tightened my grip on the suitcase and straightened my back.

Mavros scoffed, pure disdain etched on his face. “Go back to your room, Izara. Your tears don’t move me, and your threats don’t scare me.”

And there she was—Vivian. My sister. Smirking from the couch like the queen of his world. She loved this. Thrived on it. Vivian, the golden child. The one who always shone brighter. Prettier, smarter, more loved. And now? Now she had him, too.

But blood or not, I wasn’t letting her win.

I wiped my face, keeping my voice steady. “I don’t care what you think anymore, Mavros. I’m leaving.”

I turned, dragging my suitcase toward the door.

Behind me, Vivian’s sugary voice piped up, fake concern dripping from every word. “Alpha Mavros, is Sis Izara upset because you missed the Moon Festival? I heard she and Kallias were hoping you’d come.”

“You’re unwell, Vivian,” he said gently, his tone soft—comforting. For her, of course. Not for me. “Izara can celebrate next year. She’s just being dramatic, as always.”

Dramatic. Guilt-tripping. Manipulative. I bit down the bitter retort clawing its way up my throat and reached for the door. My fingers barely brushed the handle when his hand gripped my arm.

“What are you doing, Izara? Enough of your—” His words cut off as he stared at my face, tear-streaked and angry.

For a moment, I thought I saw something—his eyes softening, guilt maybe? Regret? But then he said quietly, like he was reasoning with a child, “It’s just one festival. It’s not worth crying over. I’ll be there next year, I promise.”

Next year. He didn’t even realize what he’d said. Or what it meant.

I yanked my arm free, venom dripping from my words. “Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Shock flickered across his face. He wasn’t used to me pulling away, to me standing up for myself. But tonight? I was done.

He reached for me again, but before he could, Vivian clung to his arm.

“I think Sis Izara’s upset because I’m taking you away from her son,” she cooed, her voice thick with fake sweetness. “She must be mad because Kallias is faking his illness, and now—”

The room tilted. Faking? My son? My Kallias?

Her words hit me like a freight train, knocking the air from my lungs. My vision blurred. My pulse roared in my ears. And before I even realized it, my hand cracked across her face.

The slap echoed through the room like a gunshot. Vivian’s head snapped to the side, and for a moment, she just stared at me, wide-eyed and stunned.

“Say that again,” I hissed, my voice low, trembling with barely contained fury. “Say it again, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Izara's POV

Alpha Mavros’s glare pinned me down like a predator ready to pounce. “What the hell is wrong with you, Izara? Have you forgotten she’s your sister?” His voice was low, cutting, sharp enough to pierce through armor.

But I didn’t flinch. My focus stayed locked on Vivian, her tear-streaked face doing nothing to chip away at the satisfaction thrumming in my chest. She deserved it. Every bit of it.

I leveled her with a stare colder than ice. “Think carefully about what you’re accusing, Vivian,” I said, my voice sharp and unforgiving.

Vivian clutched her cheek, tears streaming as she whimpered, “I’m sorry, Sis Izara. I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you and Alpha Mavros... but Kallias is faking his illness.”

Her words slammed into me like a wrecking ball. My chest tightened, rage bubbling up until it spilled over. Faking his illness? My Kallias? My son?

I didn’t even realize I’d raised my hand again until Mavros’s grip clamped around my wrist. “Don’t hurt your sister again,” he growled, his voice edged with warning.

I yanked my arm back, glaring at him. “You believe her, don’t you?” My voice trembled, raw with disbelief. He let go of my wrist, but his silence spoke volumes.

That silence? It shattered me. It was all the answer I needed. The betrayal burned hotter than fire, charring any trace of love I might’ve had left for him.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost cautious. “Where’s Kallias? Are you leaving with him?”

A bitter laugh tore out of me. “So that’s what this is about. Not whether he’s sick, not whether he needs you. You just want to know if I’m taking him with me.”

His mouth opened, like he had something to say, but nothing came out. Typical. His silence screamed louder than words ever could. If he’d ever set foot in Kallias’s room, he wouldn’t need to ask. The proof was all there—the rows of medicine bottles, the healer’s desperate notes. But no. He never looked past Vivian’s lies.

“You weren’t there,” I snapped, my voice rising with every word. “Not when Kallias was crying in pain, not when he begged for you to show up. And now you just believe her? What kind of father are you?”

Something flickered in his eyes—guilt, maybe? Anger? But as always, he said nothing.

The memories crashed over me, merciless. Kallias pressing his little face to the window, his voice trembling as he asked, “Will Dad come this time?” And the way his small shoulders had slumped when I couldn’t even muster up a convincing lie anymore. I’d gone to Mavros that night, swallowing every shred of my pride. “Just one festival,” I begged. “If not for me, then for him.”

And he’d smiled. Smiled like he’d won. “If I go, will you leave me alone for good?”

“Yes,” I whispered, choking on the word.

But he didn’t go.

Now, staring at him, there was nothing left of the boy my parents had taken in, the boy I’d once thought I loved. The man standing in front of me was a stranger—cold, heartless, and everything I should’ve seen coming.

Vivian’s sickly sweet voice broke through my thoughts. “Alpha Mavros, my face hurts… I’m feeling faint.” She swayed dramatically, clutching his arm like she might collapse. Her performance? Oscar-worthy.

Mavros moved immediately, steadying her with hands that once held me. His voice softened, dripping with concern. “Vivian, you need to rest. You’ve been through too much.”

I scoffed under my breath, biting down on the scream clawing its way out. Of course. Vivian, the golden child. Vivian, who could do no wrong. And me? I was just the convenient scapegoat.

Then he turned back to me, his gaze hard as steel. “Apologize to your sister, Izara,” he commanded, his tone laced with authority. “You were out of line.”

Izara's POV

I felt my nails bite into my palms, my blood boiling under my skin. Apologize? To her?

"No. I won’t. She deserved it—for my son."

For a second, his shock was unmistakable. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. For years, I’d bent over backward for him, swallowing every ounce of pride, desperate for even a shred of affection. But those days were gone. The old Izara—the one who begged for his attention—was dead. Kallias had given me something no one else ever had: a reason to fight back.

No more love.

No more begging.

No more chasing a man who never wanted me.

I needed to leave. Now. My body screamed for the door, but just as I took a step forward, his voice cracked like a whip.

"Izara!" he snapped. "Don’t you dare walk away. Apologize to your sister!"

I froze, not because I was scared, but because I was pissed. Fury surged through me, hot and blinding. Before I could even reply, two pack warriors moved to block my path. Their hands clamped down on my arms like iron cuffs, their grip unrelenting.

I struggled, my wolf snarling in my mind, but they were too strong. Too many.

Mavros loomed over me, his gaze brimming with contempt. “I warned you not to test me, Izara. Now apologize,” he growled, his voice low and final, like a judge sentencing me.

Vivian, of course, stepped in with her syrupy sweet voice. "Alpha Mavros, don’t... Sis Izara didn’t mean it," she cooed, pretending to care.

I couldn’t help the scoff that slipped out. Her fake concern was almost funny—if I wasn’t the one paying the price.

“You’re too kind, Vivian,” Mavros said, his tone softening as he turned to her. “She doesn’t deserve your kindness. After what she did, it’s clear she doesn’t see you as her sister.”

His words weren’t just venomous—they were nuclear. They didn’t sting; they burned. And as I watched them, their twisted bond, I cursed myself for ever loving him.

“You know the rules,” Mavros continued, his voice snapping back to cold authority. “Anyone who harms Vivian is punished—twice.”

I knew that look in his eyes. This wasn’t just about pack law. He wanted to make an example out of me.

The warriors shoved me down to my knees, my wolf thrashing and howling inside me. One of them forced my head forward, my cheek scraping against the cold tiles.

“Slap her,” Mavros ordered, his voice flat, detached, like he was talking about the weather.

Vivian gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like a bad actress. “No, Alpha Mavros, please... I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Liar.

Her tone shifted, dripping with faux sweetness. "Let me do it. She’s my sister. It’s my place to punish her, not yours."

A warrior grabbed my chin, yanking my head up. Vivian stepped closer, her face glowing with sick satisfaction. Then her hand lashed out, sharp and fast.

The first slap stung like fire. The second was worse. Her nails dragged across my cheek, leaving hot trails of blood dripping down my jaw.

“Oh no, Sis Izara!” she gasped, her voice trembling with fake remorse. “I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

I locked eyes with her, my glare as sharp as a blade.

“She deserved it,” Mavros said coldly, not even glancing my way. “Don’t waste your sympathy on her, Vivian.”

The warriors released me, and I crumpled to the floor. Blood smeared across the pristine white tiles, and my wolf whimpered inside me. But I silenced her. I wasn’t weak. Not now. Not ever.

“You still owe your sister an apology,” Mavros growled, his voice dripping with menace.

I forced myself up, my legs trembling but steady. My eyes bore into his, unflinching. “I owe her nothing,” I said, my voice steady as steel. “No one accuses my son of something he didn’t do and gets away with it. She deserves worse than a slap for that.”

Mavros’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. His frustration was clear, but I didn’t care.

“Just do what I told you,” he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Apologize to your sister, Izara. If you do, I’ll visit your son whenever you want. I’ll make you Luna. Legalize our marriage. Seal our bond.”