“She is not only the daughter of a mistress. She is the reason my mother is dead. And you expect me to apologize?” I shouted.

Sarah didn’t even speak. Evan’s eyes went cold as a winter storm.

“I warned you,” he said, voice sharp as steel dragged against ice. “Do not test me.”

Then he turned to his guards.

“Retrieve her mother’s body from the burial cavern. Drag it out.”

The words struck like poisoned blades.

“She will not learn until she is broken,” he said with a sneer. “Did you truly believe someone like you deserved to stand as Lady of the Stoneclaw Alpha line?”

He raised his chin in command.

“Feed the corpse to the wolves.”

He meant it.

His guards moved instantly, their boots thudding like a death march.

“No. No, please!” I lunged forward in blind panic, but another guard seized my arm. His grip was so strong I heard a sickening crack.

Pain tore through me, bright and blinding.

Tears clouded my vision. I sobbed until I could barely breathe.

“Evan, please. Don’t do this to my mother. She is already gone. Isn’t that enough?”

Sarah tilted her head, masking a smirk beneath feigned innocence.

“Evan… the dead deserve peace. Maybe we should spare her this time?” she whispered sweetly.

“You are too soft,” he replied with a sigh. “That softness is why she walks over you.”

Then he looked back at his guards.

“Well? Why are you standing there? Do I need to guide you to the cavern myself?” His voice cracked like shattered glass.

With each word, the last pieces of the love I’d held for a decade fell apart.

He knew. He knew my mother was my only weakness. And he crushed it without hesitation.

I broke.

My spine bent. My knees hit the ground. My pride spilled at Sarah’s feet like blood.

“Please,” I whispered, tears falling so hard I could barely speak. “Please leave my mother. Let her rest. I was wrong.”

Wrong for believing in fairness.

Wrong for hoping he might choose me over her.

Wrong for loving him at all.

As I bowed, the blood-soaked back of my collar spilled into view.

Evan’s gaze flickered. For a moment, he looked almost stunned.

“Is this enough for you?” I straightened slowly, digging up the last fragments of strength, staring at him with disgust I could barely contain.

His jaw tightened. He signaled to his advisor.

“Bring the pact.”

Only after I pressed my bloody fingerprint onto the scroll did his expression finally ease.

“You are bleeding,” he said quietly. “I will summon a healer.”

Releasing Sarah, he stepped toward me.

I slapped his hand away.

“Save it. Go tend to your precious girl instead. If you wait too long, her fake bruises might fade.”

I turned to leave, but Sarah slid her foot in front of me.

I tripped hard, crashing to the ground.

Evan’s instincts sparked. He reached out—then stopped, hand suspended in the air.

He hesitated. Then dropped his arm and stepped back.

“Find a healer yourself,” he said stiffly. “If your injury worsens, that is your problem.”

I forced myself upright despite the pain stabbing up my spine.

As he and Sarah stepped into the lift platform, he glanced back.

“I will accompany you to the bridal weaver’s hall tomorrow,” he said just before the doors slid shut.

The room spun. My knees buckled. Blood loss pulled the world into a haze.

In the blur, a memory flashed.

Evan at nineteen, newly burdened with responsibilities after taking over the clan’s trade routes. Exhausted, sleepless for days. One evening, I burned my hand a little while preparing stew for him.

A tiny blister.

But Evan found out. He stormed out of a crucial council meeting and raced home on horseback without waiting for permission.

He grabbed my hand, cradling it as though it were fragile crystal.

“I am sorry, my love,” he whispered, guilt heavy in his voice. “I should have protected you. As long as I breathe, I will never let anything harm you.”

He pulled me close, warm, trembling, his promise etched into me like a brand.

But that boy was gone.

He had grown into a cold, distant Alpha heir who looked at me as though I were nothing. As though I were disposable.

And now, he was the one hurting me the most.

I staggered toward the tower’s exit. The edges of my vision darkened.

Then everything went black.

But before I hit the ground… someone caught me.

Strong arms. Heartbeat unfamiliar. Scent foreign.

Just before darkness swallowed me, I heard a whisper at my ear. Quiet. Dangerous.

“Do you want revenge?”

A pause. Warm breath against my skin.

“In exchange for those shares… I can help you uncover the truth behind your mother’s death.”

Tears slid down my cheeks as I clung, half-conscious, to the stranger’s tunic.

“Re… venge…” I whispered, the word barely formed.

When my eyes opened again, all I saw was white. Too bright. Too quiet.

A healer’s cavern.

I turned my head slowly, wincing at the ache across my body, and reached for the message stone beside my bed. A rune-lit message from Evan waited, sent during the night.

I’ve matters to attend tomorrow. Go fit your bridal gown on your own. The bonding ceremony is near, so stop throwing tantrums. Enter the Stoneclaw line with some dignity.

I stared at the glowing runes, emotionless, then brushed my thumb across them, erasing the message.

But just beneath it, another glow caught my eye. A post on the clan’s spirit board.

Evan had taken Sarah on a private skybeast flight to watch the northern lights near the ice fields.

In the green glow of the aurora, their silhouettes leaned close together. Matching moon-forged rings gleamed on their fingers.

The caption carved beneath it pierced like ice.

He told me I am the only one for him. He promised to protect me from every cruelty in this world. How could I ever let go?

Below it, a cutesy avatar with a cartoon wolf couple commented:

And no matter how far you run, I’ll find you. I’ll bind you to my side forever. Don’t even try to escape, silly girl.

I didn’t need to check who wrote it. I knew the tone. That possessive style of speech.

It was Evan.

I remembered the day I once asked him to carve matching avatars with me on the clan board.

He rolled his eyes and snapped, “Are you twelve? I’m busy. Leave.”

And yet I had once dreamed of stargazing with him on the northern cliffs. I’d planned every detail. He said he was too busy.

Too busy, always too busy.

Now I understood. He wasn’t incapable of romance. He simply chose not to be romantic with me.

My throat tightened as I set the stone aside.

That was when I noticed the envelope lying quietly on the bedside table.

Inside was a travel parchleaf. Departure in two days.

And a small note:

You’re welcome. Hope the gift suits you. For your wedding. —V.

I knew then. The man who carried me to the healer’s cavern last night was Victor Keane, sworn enemy of Evan Marks.

I sent him a quiet thank-you rune and checked myself out soon after.

Then came a call from the bridal weaver. The gown my mother had ordered had been tailored, ready for pick-up.

The last gift she left me.

I had to retrieve it.

But when I entered the weaving hall, I froze.

Sarah stood there, twirling in my gown.

“Annalise… you came,” she said with a sugary smile, spinning in front of the polished silver mirror. “I had to make sure it fits. Trying to help you out.”

She tugged the neckline lower, revealing fresh red bite marks across her collarbone, her tone mockingly bashful.

“Oh dear, Evan is just so… passionate. I told him to be gentle.”

I stared at her performance, cold and silent.

“You really did inherit your mother’s talent for stealing other wolves’ mates.”

Her smile twitched, then sharpened.

“Oh? Didn’t you hear? I’m carrying Evan’s pup.”

“And your bonding license?” She laughed. “It’s fake.”

She held up her spirit stone. A recording flickered: a dim feasting den, Sarah on Evan’s lap. He was tipsy, kissing her lazily.

“Bear the child safely,” he murmured. “When he is born, I’ll gift him the Stoneclaw holdings.”

Sarah’s voice purred, “But… what about my sister?”

Evan chuckled. “I never married her. I’ve been slipping herbs into her morning milk to keep her barren. I’ll just say we adopted.”

It was like lightning struck me. My vision spun.

So that was it.

Love had died long ago. I was just the last fool who didn’t notice.

I dragged in a breath, straightened, and forced out a calm smile.

“Well, congratulations. Becoming the next Luna of Stoneclaw is within reach.”

“But that gown is mine. Take it off,” I said coldly.

I lunged for the skirt, but before I could touch her, one of her guards—appointed by Evan—kicked me hard.

The force sent me sprawling. Pain tore through my abdomen, twisting like something had been shoved out of place.

Sarah lifted a pair of shears from a nearby table. Her voice grew gleeful as she traced the blade along the silk.

“Evan said no matter what I do, he will clean up my mess.”

The shears sliced through delicate lace. Through the soft gleam of moon-woven silk. With each cut, she destroyed the last gift my mother ever gave me.

I lay there watching the pieces fall like dying snowflakes.

Even my rage felt numb under the crushing weight of everything.

Sarah strutted away, leaving shredded ruin behind her.

I dragged myself back to what used to be my den.

Once inside, I tore open every chest and shelf, pulling out every gift Evan had ever given—jewels, fine hides, carved keepsakes.

One by one, I tossed them into the refuse bin.

Behind me, I heard footsteps.

Familiar ones.

Human. Heavy. And unmistakably his.

Evan paused at the doorway. “What did you throw away?”

I didn’t bother to look at him.

“Just some rubbish I should have gotten rid of long ago.”

He didn’t seem to care. As if remembering something suddenly, he added, “I heard Sarah accidentally tore your bridal gown. But don’t worry. I told the weavers to rush another one. It will be finished in time for the ceremony.”

He slung his cloak over one shoulder.

“Remember, tomorrow night is the clan gala at my family’s longhouse. Don’t be late. I have matters to handle, so I won’t be coming back tonight.”

He took his keys of the stables and walked out. Not once did he glance at the overflowing waste bin behind me—packed with every gift he had ever given.

The next night, at the eighth bell.

I arrived alone at the Marks Family’s feast grounds.

The moment I stepped into the torchlit garden, I saw them.

Evan and Sarah.

Dressed in matching ceremonial attire, glowing under warm firelight like royalty born under the Moon Goddess.

Mrs. Marks’s expression tightened the instant she saw me.

Her smile cracked and fell apart.

She wore the jeweled necklace Sarah had gifted her. Her eyes dragged over me with disdain as sharp as claws.

“You’re an hour late. No surprise. No manners at all. Just like your mother, the thief.”

But Evan had told me the feast began at the eighth bell.

My fists curled.

Long ago, I had once mentioned that Sarah’s mother had been a mistress. The next day, Mrs. Marks’s missing jewelry “miraculously” appeared beneath my mother’s bedding.

Evan knew she’d been framed.

He never once defended us.

But now—I didn’t bow. I didn’t shrink. I stared Mrs. Marks straight in the eyes… then looked directly at Sarah’s smug little smile.

“I’m not here to be insulted,” I said coldly. I turned to Sarah. “And my mother was never a thief. She didn’t raise me to seduce other wolves’ mates like some mothers raise their daughters.”

The words barely left my mouth before a violent slap crashed across my cheek.

My ears rang. My body hit the ground.

A metallic taste filled my mouth.

Evan towered over me, eyes cold and superior.

“You spread rumors about her! Don’t you see how it torments her? How long are you going to keep this up? Do you want her to throw herself off a cliff?”

I pushed myself upright, face burning with fury.

“She suffered? She?” I let out a short, broken laugh. “She suffered from her own choices. And you—you know exactly what she’s done. My mother is dead. I have lost everything. And you just stand here, letting her play the victim?”

Whispers rippled through the crowd—soft at first, then louder.

Evan’s jaw tightened.

“Leave,” he growled. “Go calm yourself. You’ve humiliated yourself enough tonight.”

The garden buzzed as clan elites gathered.

Mr. and Mrs. Marks stepped forward with forced smiles and cups of spiced wine.

“Let’s not spoil the evening. Come, everyone—drink.”

Guests swarmed Evan and Sarah with praise.

“To the blessed couple!”

“Congratulations to the future Alpha pair. A perfect match!”

Evan had always insisted our relationship stay secret.

He never told anyone about us.

And now?

He smiled like a perfect gentleman, standing beside Sarah as if she were the rightful Luna.

He didn’t explain anything.

Didn’t deny anything.

Didn’t even glance at me.

Sarah clung to his arm like she belonged there.

Beneath the lantern-light, they looked like a storybook couple.

And I?

I was nothing but a stain marring the scene.

I laughed—soft, breathless, bitter—and turned to leave.

But a hand blocked my path.

Sarah.

Her smile was triumphant.

“Leaving so soon?” she purred. “But I haven’t told you how that old woman died.”

My heart stopped.

“What did you just say?”

She leaned in, her voice a poisonous whisper.

“I told her if she wanted her coin back, she’d have to record something… entertaining. The sort of thing traders pay for.”

She grinned wide.

“But she got all righteous. She refused. Even insulted me and my mother.”

A twisted laugh slipped from her throat.

“So I taught her a lesson.”

She sighed dramatically, as if bored.

“Did you know? She barely made it past fifty before she collapsed. Still had the nerve to cling to my leg and beg—beg—me to return the money for her sweet daughter.”

She clicked her tongue.

“Pathetic, truly.”