Through the bond that tied my wolf to his, I sent ninety-nine screams for help.

The hundredth time, he answered—distant, distracted.

"Seraphine, I'm occupied. Stop whining like a needy pup."

I lay in an ice crevice, our pup suffocating in my womb, while he hunted beneath the full moon with another.

Five days later, I woke in a healing den. Through the wall, I heard my mate—my Alpha—speaking of me like livestock.

"Keep her under until Lysandra whelps," Leon growled to the shaman. "If she learns I drained our pup for that she-wolf's marrow, I'll have your tongue. And if you fail me—I'll burn your den to ash."

I touched the mating mark burning on my throat and reached for the crystal. My voice didn't tremble.

"Harris. Prepare the severance scroll. I want his signature before the moon wanes."

The she-wolf who loved her Alpha died in that ravine.

The one who clawed out will make him howl.

Three weeks ago. The night of the blood moon.

I ran alone through the high passes, heavy with young—nine moons along, the pup quickening with every step.

The trail gave way. I tumbled, striking stone and ice, wedged in a crevice where the cold would finish what gravity began.

I sent my call through the spirit-web to the healers. Needed the Alpha's permission to cut the pup from my dying flesh. Ninety-nine summons. Silence.

The hundredth time, the bond stirred.

"Seraphine." Leon's voice, sharp as winter wind. "Must you always demand my attention? I'm occupied. Cease your crying."

Before the link closed, I heard her.

Lysandra. No bond, no mark—but close enough to murmur in his ear.

"The fire-dance begins soon, Leon. Leave the pack business. Come warm yourself."

Days later, I woke in the healing den, consciousness returning like poison. Through the stone, I heard Leon's truth.

"Alpha," the shaman protested, "the wolfsbane will kill her wolf. The marrow ritual is complete. Lysandra walks. Let your mate wake."

Leon's laugh held no warmth. "If Seraphine rises now, she'll know I triggered the rockslide to harvest our pup for Lysandra 's blood-rotting sickness. I need her dreaming until Lysandra births my heir."

My heart seized.

All those moons, I had cradled Lysandra 's swelling belly, sung to her human young, loved her as pack-kin—while she lay with my marked mate, carried his seed, and drank my offspring's life to cure her own.

The shaman's voice cracked. "Alpha, the she-wolf will die—"

"Then let her," Leon said. "You've taken my gold. Cross me, and I'll leave your pups fatherless."

I pressed my hand to the mark on my throat, feeling our bond shudder and fray. Silent tears tracked my cheeks.

My fated mate. My chosen Alpha. He had murdered our young for his first love—the female who fled him at the altar five winters ago.

I reached for the crystal, fingers unsteady.

"Harris," I said, flat as lake-ice. "Prepare the severance scroll. I want his mark removed before the week ends."

I let the crystal fall.

In the corridor, laughter echoed from the chamber of rest.

I moved toward it, dread pooling in my gut, each step betraying the bond that still cried out for him. Through the gap in the wooden screen, I saw them.

Leon sat on the edge of the healing bed, his warrior's fingers tracing Lysandra 's pale hair. She smiled up at him, one hand resting on the swell beneath her gown.

"You saved us both," she whispered. "Your son is safe because of what you sacrificed."

He bent, pressing his mouth to her forehead. "What I lost was worth the price."

My breath stopped. I clamped my palm over my lips, trapping the sob.

What I lost.

He spoke of me. Of our pup. Of the bond he was shredding.

I turned, stumbling, vision narrowing to tunnels. The wash-chamber offered cold stone to grip. I stared at the she-wolf in the polished metal—pelt dull, eyes hollow, the mark on my throat livid against gray skin.

The door opened. Lysandra 's reflection joined mine.

"Hiding, little wolf?" she asked, voice honey over venom. "Don't you wish to prepare my nest for the birthing?"

I splashed water on my face, refusing her image. "Leave me."

She pouted, false innocence. "Such hostility, Seraphine. Especially since I'm the one who decides which she-wolf sleeps in the Alpha's chamber now."

I turned, meeting her eyes. "What do you want? Because you carry my mate's young? You're a creature I pitied and sheltered. Nothing more."

Her smile twisted, rage beneath the mask. "I know exactly what I am, Seraphine. I'm grateful you opened your den to me—which is why I want you to see your pup. Before he stopped breathing."

I laughed, harsh and broken. "Madness. My young died in my womb."

"Did he?" She giggled, the sound obscene. "The healers didn't tell you? Your pup drew breath. You were simply too lost in dreams to witness it."

My heart lurched. "You lie."

She produced a viewing-crystal. In its depths, a newborn wolf-pup lay—fur damp, eyes sealed, chest rising with perfect breaths.

Tears blinded me. I stared at the image, reaching for the glass. "He's beautiful... my eyes, he has my eyes..."

"Perfect, yes," she agreed.

"Where?" I demanded.

She leaned close, whispering, "That was the difficulty. Your pup was too perfect. Too strong. I couldn't allow any threat to my son's place as Leon's heir."

My throat closed. "Lysandra . What did you do?"

She shrugged, casual as weather. "I merely observed that his marrow would cure my blood-sickness. The healers warned Leon—your pup might not survive the extraction. Leon insisted. And so..."

I lunged.

My claws found her throat, my scream tearing from where my wolf should have been. "Monster—you murdered my young!"

"Leon!" she shrieked, practiced, perfect.

The screen shattered. He filled the doorway, golden eyes wide for one heartbeat—then narrowing to cold amber.

He crossed in two strides and brushed me aside like I was nothing.

The world tilted. My skull struck tile. Blood filled my mouth.

"How dare you attack her?" he roared.

I glared through the pain, through the bond that screamed his name. "She killed our pup! You both—"

"You assault a female carrying young," he cut in, voice carrying the Alpha command that once protected me. "You forfeit your right to call yourself mother. This is why your pup died—your violence, your instability."

The words cut deeper than the blow. A whimper escaped, my throat constricting around grief and fury.

He didn't look at me again. He lifted Lysandra, cradling her against the chest where I had once rested my head, and carried her into the light.

I sat in my own blood, in the dark, and understood finally.

What died tonight wasn’t just my pup.

It was whatever part of me still waited for him.

Seven days. Then I would run from this territory, from the male who wore my mark while he destroyed me. But I would not run quietly.

I would make him regret every breath he stole from our pup's lungs.

"They held me in the silver cell for three days before the healers dared release me to the secondary wing. I walked out before Leon could change his mind.

I woke to dripping water and the stink of nightshade.

The healer stood over me, scratching notes on a leather scroll. He didn't meet my eyes.

"One more shock," he whispered, "and your wolf retreats forever. You'll never carry young again."

I stared at the stone ceiling. "What did he pay you?"

His hand stopped. "I don't—"

"To keep me under while they cut out my pup's marrow. To end my bloodline." I turned my head. He stepped back. "What was the weight of the gold?"

His shoulders sagged. He thrust release papers at me. I marked them with unsteady fingers.

"Stay through the waning moon," he murmured. "Your spirit is barely anchored."

"I'd rather walk into blizzard than breathe here another hour."

I gathered my blood-stained clothes and walked out. My legs shook, but rage kept me upright.

...

The packhouse rose before me—timber hall I had chosen beam by beam, believing our pups would grow strong beneath its roof.

Now it smelled like a graveyard.

I pushed the oak door. Laughter spilled out, warm and obscene.

Lysandra curled against Leon's chest on the fur-draped settee. Her swollen, soft human feet rested in his hands as he massaged them with a gentleness I'd never known he possessed.

A sound escaped me—half laugh, half wound.

Seven moons pregnant with our pup, I'd asked him once to ease my aching paws. He'd tossed copper coins on the table, eyes never leaving his maps. "Summon a servant. I don't perform common labor."

Now he performed that same "common labor" with a soft smile, golden eyes warm with affection I'd once thought belonged only to me.

"You appear comfortable," I said.

Leon's hands stilled. He pulled away from Lysandra, predator-smooth, face tightening into Alpha armor. "You were ordered to remain in the healing wing. Why are you here?"

"Why?" I let the word hang. "Perhaps I grew weary of waiting for my fated mate to remember I existed."

His eyes darkened. "Do not begin this. Lysandra carries the pack's future. Your place is to see to her comfort."

My throat burned. "You sacrificed our young for her."

"Enough!" The command struck like a physical blow, vibrating through my bones in mockery of our bond. "If your grief hadn't unseated your reason, perhaps our pup would still draw breath."

The words drove into my chest like silver. I turned away before he saw tears. "I won't remain long enough to disturb your peace."

Outside the nursery den—the chamber I'd prepared with my own hands, singing to my unborn pup as I worked—I stopped.

It had smelled of cedar and pack-moss. I'd carved stars and running wolves into the ceiling beams, laughing while Leon teased me, amber eyes crinkled with affection I now knew was performance.

The door stood ajar. The air drifting out was wrong.

I pushed it wider and froze.

Gone.

The carved pup-bed I'd sanded with my own claws. The stuffed creatures sewn from shed fur. The midnight-blue drapes woven from my winter coat—all vanished.

Above the new cradle, carved in script I didn't recognize: Young Luca.

My heart cracked down the center, sound audible only to me.

I stepped inside. My pup's first image—captured in moonstone, only record of his perfect form—lay on the floorboards. The crystal frame lay in shards around it.

I knelt, reaching for it with fingers that remembered holding him. "My sweet boy," I whispered.

A sharp heel pressed down on my hand.

Pain seared as glass bit deep, drawing fresh blood. I looked up. Lysandra stood over me, eyes gleaming with unhidden triumph.

"How clumsy of me," she said, voice honey over venom. "Did I tread upon something you valued?"

"What sickness lives in you?"

She smiled, adjusting her gown over the belly—the heir he'd killed my pup to protect. "Don't be angry, little wolf. Leon granted me this chamber. He said you'd have no need of it, now that your... condition... has resolved."

Blood pooled beneath my hand. I stood, cradling my injured palm. "You're less than wolf."

"Oh, Seraphine," she gasped suddenly, voice rising to carry through the open door. "Why would you harm yourself? You might have simply asked me to leave!"

"I have done nothing—"

"Please!" she shrieked, backing toward the doorway with theatrical horror. "Stop! I'll leave, only don't hurt yourself because of me!"

Leon's silhouette filled the frame. He saw me—bleeding hand, shattered moonstone at my feet, blood on the boards—and his face settled into bored disappointment, as if I were a servant who'd spilled wine.

"What performance is this?"

"She stepped on the glass," I said, words tumbling. "She destroyed the only image of my—"

But Lysandra 's voice rose over mine, perfect in its brokenness. "I'm sorry, Leon. She became distressed when you said I could use this chamber. She seized the frame and... I tried to stop her..."

I stared, the lie so brazen it stole my breath. "That is not—"

"Enough!" Leon cut through, jaw tight. "I will not hear your delusions. I've indulged your instability beyond reason."

Lysandra moved to the dressing table. She lifted the moonstone pendant I'd carved during confinement, holding a fragment of my pup's first shell—the last physical piece of him I possessed.

"This is lovely," she said, turning it to catch light. "Might I wear it? For luck?"

"No, that is my—"

She let it fall.

Chain snapped. Stone struck floorboards. Shattered into luminous shards.

I stared at fragments glittering like frozen tears. My breath stopped. My knees struck floor. "How could you allow this? That was the only—"

"Seraphine," Leon said, voice flat and final as a closing door. "Do not begin again. Lysandra is carrying. She cannot sustain stress."

Lysandra pressed against his side, eyes dry despite sobs shaking her frame. "I didn't mean to distress her. The necklace simply... slipped."

He cupped her cheek. Thumb brushed her false tears away. "You bear no fault. It is merely jewelry."

Merely jewelry.

I pressed my bleeding hand against the boards, feeling splinters bite deeper. "It was not merely jewelry. It was the last connection to my pup. To our pup. The young you sacrificed."

Lysandra 's lips twitched, almost smiling where he couldn't see. "Poor creature. Perhaps the shaman should attend her, Leon. She's been unsteady since the rockfall."

"I do not need—"

"Perhaps Lysandra is correct," Leon said, golden eyes cold as winter sun. "You do require intervention."

Two enforcers entered, massive frames blocking the light.

"What is this?" I demanded, rising though legs shook. "Release me, Leon!"

He crossed his arms. "You've lost yourself again. You pose danger to the pack heir."

"I am not mad!" I shouted, tears streaming, voice breaking on the bond still crying out for him. "She's manipulating you—can't you scent the lie? She's destroying everything I am, and you hand her the tools!"

Lysandra wrapped arms around her belly, lip trembling with practiced precision. "Leon, I'm frightened. Don't let her near me. What if she harms the young? What if grief has driven her to true madness?"

That did it.

Leon's expression hardened into stone mask of the Alpha who'd once sworn to protect me, now turned against me. "Enough. Escort her to the isolation ward. Now."

"Leon, please—" I begged, voice breaking, bond shuddering with despair. "You're sending your fated mate away for her lies? You're breaking the mark for her?"

He didn't answer. He simply turned his back, hand settling possessively on Lysandra 's waist as if I were the threat, the enemy, the monster in this chamber I'd built with love.

Enforcers seized my arms, grip iron-tight, dragged me toward the stairs. Lysandra 's voice followed, sweet and poisonous, drifting down the corridor like smoke.

"Don't fear, Seraphine. I'll care for your fated mate most tenderly while you receive the help you so desperately require."

I screamed her name.

The heavy door slammed shut, leaving me in darkness as they hauled me toward the silver-lined cells where wolves were broken.

Cold first. Seeping through stone into my bones.

I lay strapped to a narrow cot, silver-laced leather burning my skin, caging my wolf in silence.

The shaman stood beside me, checking a syringe filled with liquid wolfsbane. Poison gleamed in torchlight.

"Where am I?" My throat was raw.

He smiled without meeting my eyes. "Your Alpha believes grief has unseated your reason. I am here to quiet the chaos."

The needle entered before I could speak. My head spun, tongue thickening. I tried to summon my wolf, but silver bit deeper, driving her into darkness.

"Relax," he said, pressing carved bone to my temple. "The medicine burns away madness."

Agony split my skull. I screamed, back arching against restraints.

"Shh..." he whispered. "It is part of the cleansing."

Two days dissolved in toxin. My body ached from silver poisoning. Each time I begged to return to the packhouse, they forced more wolfsbane down my throat.

I heard attendants whispering when they thought I was silenced.

"Lysandra said leave no marks on her face."

"Pity. She pays so well in gold."

Lysandra had arranged this. Disguised as healing.

By the second evening, I couldn't weep. I stared at stone ceiling, my wolf whimpering in the dark corner of my mind, waiting for death.

...

That night, the oak door scraped open.

Pine. Musk. Lysandra 's perfume clinging to his skin.

Leon.

I thought I would rage. Instead, I stared, too broken to tremble.

He frowned, shadows bruising the skin beneath his eyes. "You look terrible. It is only been two days."

I said nothing. Rain lashed the high windows beyond the bars.

"Let us go," he said flatly, voice carrying Alpha command. "Lysandra is restless. She needs me."

He didn't offer his hand. I followed, each step burning through weakened muscles, silver sickness turning my blood to fire.

In the truck, silence suffocated. Forest blurred outside rain-streaked windows. My hands shook. He didn't glance over.

His phone rang.

"Leon!" Lysandra 's voice through the speaker, trembling, breathless. "Please, come quickly. The pup... something is wrong. I cannot feel him moving!"

Leon's grip whitened on the steering wheel. His wolf rose in his eyes.

He jerked the vehicle to the roadside. Unlocked my door.

"Get out."

My head snapped up. "What?"

"Get out, Seraphine. Lysandra needs me. Now."

"You are leaving me here? In the storm?"

His eyes met mine—golden, cold. "You will manage. You are stronger than you pretend."

The door slammed.

The truck sped off, taillights disappearing into driving rain. Into dark. Into the place where he had chosen her over me.

I stood by the roadside, storm winds howling. The bond stretched between us, thinning, fraying.

I tried to cross to find shelter. Vision blurred. Headlights flashed.

Impact.

Metal and bone. World spinning. Rocky embankment.

Then dark.

I woke in the pack infirmary. The air felt heavier, as if the spirits themselves mourned.

A different healer stood beside my bed, face grim, eyes avoiding the mark on my throat.

"Alpha Mate," he said quietly, "you are fortunate to be alive. We performed emergency surgery. The damage was severe. Silver poisoning from restraints combined with the trauma..."

My lips trembled. "What are you saying?"

He lowered his eyes. "Your she-wolf is dead. The womb cannot sustain life. You will never conceive again."

My world stopped.

Breath came in shallow gasps. The monitor beeped frantically. Tears slid down my cheeks, hot and silent.

The door knocked.

Lysandra stepped inside, dressed in silk the color of fresh blood, hands resting possessively on her round belly—the heir he had killed my wolf for.

"Oh, you poor dear," she cooed, voice dripping false honey. "I heard you had a little accident. Such a shame about... your fertility." She tilted her head, smiling. "But look on the bright side. Now you can help me raise my pup. Yours would have only been a distraction."

I gripped the fur blanket, nails scoring pelt. "Why are you here? Hunting me?"

She laughed. "I came to admire my handiwork. I am not pleased you survived the hit—those were very specific instructions I gave the driver—but at least now you cannot produce competing heirs. The fated bond can only do so much, can it not?"

My chest tightened. I lunged forward, grabbing her hair with what little strength remained.

"How could you? Is it not enough you killed my pup?"

"Help!" she shrieked, perfectly on cue.

The door burst open. Leon strode in, eyes wide, then hardening with fury—at me.

"Twelve hours and you are attacking her again?!" He grabbed my shoulder, shoving me roughly back.

I fell from the bed, back striking metal frame. Something tore deep inside my abdomen. Fresh blood bloomed across the white gown.

"Leon," I whispered, pain blinding. "She did this—she sent the ones who ran me down—"

He cut me off with a slash of his hand. "Stop lying! I am sick of your theatrics!"

I froze, bleeding onto the floor. "What?"

"I caught the driver." He tossed a file onto the bed. It landed near my hand, spattered with my blood. "He confessed. You paid him to strike you. To frame Lysandra . I am so disgusted I cannot look at you."

I stared up, horrified. "That is not true! You think I would do this? Destroy my own womb? Break my own wolf?"

He scoffed, jaw tight. "Of course you would. You would do anything for attention, anything to destroy Lysandra 's happiness. How low will you sink? You have lost your mind."

"I lost my pup, Leon!" I cried, voice breaking. "And now I have lost—"

He turned away before I finished, back to his fated mate. "Enough. Lysandra 's blessing ceremony is tonight. Try to act with dignity. Help her prepare."

Lysandra leaned close, lips brushing my ear. "Do not worry. I will make sure Leon saves you a piece of the celebration cake."

The door slammed. He led her away, arm wrapped protectively around her waist while I knelt in my own blood.

The bond between us was silent. Finally. Irrevocably.

I sat staring at the hospital gown stained crimson.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Harris:

"The mate-bond severance scroll has been delivered."

A tear slipped down my cheek—the last I would ever shed for Leon Ashford.

The last gift of a bond he chose to break.