“Mom… I don’t want to go through with the bonding ceremony anymore.”

On the night before her formal mate-bonding, Liora Hart pressed her phone to her ear and reached out to her mother, who was far beyond the sea, residing in another pack’s territory overseas.

There was a brief silence on the other end. Her mother clearly hadn’t expected those words—but she didn’t interrogate her, didn’t demand explanations. She had raised Liora herself. She understood that her daughter would never speak so lightly unless her heart had already been torn open.

Her voice, when it came, was steady and gentle, grounding as ever. “That’s fine,” she said softly. “I’m not getting any younger, and the pack affairs were always meant to fall to you eventually. Come back sooner, then. It’ll give you time to settle in and find your footing.”

Liora gave a faint chuckle in response, forcing the sound past the tight knot in her throat. But no matter how hard she tried, her gaze drifted toward the ceremonial den prepared for her union.

Moonlight spilled through the narrow window slats, casting pale shadows along the stone floor. Against the dim glow, she saw two figures tangled together—one unmistakably her chosen mate, the other her stepsister.

She struggled to steady her breathing, fought to keep her composure intact, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her all the same, cracking with the ghost of a sob.

Her mother let out a quiet sigh, the weight of old wounds evident in it. “I truly believed he would be better,” she murmured. “I never thought he’d repeat the same mistakes your father and I made. But it’s alright, Liora. You’re still young. I’ll be waiting for you. You’re not alone.”

After exchanging a few more subdued words, they ended the call.

The moment the line went dead, Liora’s strength gave out. She sank down onto the gravel at the side of the road, the silence pressing in on her until it felt suffocating. The emotions she had forced down finally broke free, and her sobs echoed helplessly into the still night.

Cold moonlight bathed her in silver, illuminating her trembling form and making the ache in her chest feel sharper, deeper—almost unbearable.

—

Before this night, Liora had truly believed Kaelen was different.

They had grown up within the same pack lands, running through forests together as children, their bond deepening naturally over time. When they turned eighteen, fate itself had acknowledged them, sealing their connection in the eyes of the pack.

Kaelen Drake came from a respected lineage known for wisdom and scholarship. He carried himself with a calm elegance that made him stand out, even among alphas. As the future head of the Drake family, he possessed a maturity far beyond his years, composed and refined in every setting.

In the ten years they’d been together, they had never once raised their voices at each other. Kaelen was patient with Liora, indulgent to the point of spoiling her, always watching over her like a dependable older wolf she could lean on without fear.

He expressed his affection through actions rather than words—entire vehicles filled with rare moon-bloom bouquets, precious gems nestled in velvet-lined boxes, and a readiness to fulfill her every whim without hesitation.

To outsiders, his quiet devotion was proof of a love so deep it didn’t need to be loudly proclaimed. Within the pack, they were seen as an ideal pair—admired, envied, and spoken of with reverence.

Yet on the very night meant to celebrate her future, everything she had dreamed of shattered.

At their engagement feast, Kaelen had brought someone Liora never wanted to see again—her stepsister, Marcella Lincoln.

The instant Marcella appeared, memories Liora had buried clawed their way back to the surface. She remembered the years of cruelty Marcella and her mother had inflicted, the relentless torment that had driven Liora’s own mother to the brink of despair.

Every insult, every humiliation resurfaced vividly, as if no time had passed at all. The scars she carried from those years throbbed anew.

For once, Liora lost control.

Her normally gentle tone sharpened as she demanded Marcella leave. But Marcella only smirked, invoking her mother’s name with deliberate malice, striking precisely where it hurt most.

The argument escalated rapidly, tearing through the celebration until the once-glorious engagement feast dissolved into chaos.

Instinctively, Liora turned to Kaelen, expecting him to stand beside her.

Instead, his palm came down hard against her cheek.

The sound rang through the hall.

“Go home and sleep it off if you’ve been drinking,” he snapped coldly. “Stop embarrassing yourself. Look at you—how could you ever think you were fit to become the future luna of this family?”

The sting of his words cut far deeper than the blow. And before she could recover, her father added his own condemnation.

“Your sister has just returned, and this is how you welcome her?” he barked. “Have you no shame as the elder one? If your Aunt Aurelia is offended by this, don’t expect my forgiveness!”

Surrounded by silence and staring eyes, Liora endured their scolding alone. Each accusation felt like a blade, slicing away the last of her dignity.

Then Kaelen turned away from her entirely, guiding Marcella out without so much as a backward glance.

Left standing amid hushed whispers and thinly veiled judgment, Liora felt the humiliation sink into her bones. Her face burned fiercely—whether from the alcohol or the shame, she couldn’t tell.

She said nothing. She simply turned and ran.

The night swallowed her as she fled the pack grounds, her footsteps echoing with desperation. No cabs passed by, no help came. She wandered the empty streets for hours, the cold wind biting into her skin and leaving her head throbbing.

By the time she finally staggered back to Belmont Villa, exhaustion clung to her like a second skin—and the life she thought she had was already gone.

The moment Liora stepped onto the lower level of the manor, her instincts froze her in place.

Inside what was meant to be her ceremonial chamber, she saw them—wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, bodies pressed close, voices lowered into intimate murmurs meant only for lovers. The air itself felt suffocating, heavy with a scent she recognized all too well.

Pain constricted her chest, sharp and sudden. Still, she forced herself to move, to activate the hidden surveillance rune embedded in the wall. Piece by piece, the fragmented images and recordings aligned, stitching together a truth she had never been meant to see.

Only then did Liora understand—this betrayal had roots far deeper than tonight.

Years ago, long before the bond was ever announced, Kaelen and Marcella had already crossed lines that should never have been crossed.

Eight winters earlier, Kaelen had grown desperate to escape the shadow of his powerful bloodline. Determined to prove himself without the Drake pack’s influence, he had left to carve his own path. The venture failed spectacularly, leaving him stripped of pride and standing on the brink of disgrace.

At his lowest point, fate—or perhaps cruelty—had thrown him into Marcella’s path in a dilapidated youth lodge on the outskirts of neutral territory. Within a single moon cycle, Liora’s place in his heart had been quietly replaced. Marcella had burrowed her way into him, becoming the one he relied on, the one he desired most.

Yet because the Drake elders would never allow a she-wolf of such low standing to become their future luna, Kaelen had chosen the safer path. He returned to Liora, clinging to her as the acceptable choice, while keeping Marcella hidden away in the depths of his heart.

Liora had always believed their bond—formed in childhood, strengthened over years—was destined by the Moon Goddess herself. Now she realized the truth was far uglier.

She had never been chosen out of love.

She had been convenient.

Her bare feet throbbed, torn and bloodied from wandering the stone paths, but the pain felt distant compared to the devastation tearing through her chest. The memory of Kaelen’s hand striking her face burned like a brand, obliterating the trust she had spent a decade building.

Something hardened inside her.

She would let him go—the man she had loved, waited for, and believed in for over ten years.

Still, the ceremony itself cut deeper. The union under the full moon had been more than tradition; it was her dream. Through countless lonely nights and humiliations, she had clung to that vision of love and belonging. It had been her anchor, the hope that carried her forward when everything else fell apart.

She would not allow that dream to become a reward for the very people who had shattered her.

So Liora made her decision.

This ceremony would stand—not as a beginning, but as an ending. A final goodbye to the girl who had devoted a decade of her life to a lie. After tonight, she would sever herself from her unjust family and the man who had never truly chosen her.

Once her tears dried, Liora steadied her breathing, pulled out her phone, and booked a flight scheduled seven days later.

The confirmation rune glowed briefly before fading—but the screen shifted back to the surveillance feed.

Perhaps it was fate mocking her, or the Moon Goddess’s cruel sense of timing, but Liora caught the final moments of an old confession she had never been meant to hear.

“I regret everything,” Kaelen said, his voice thick with remorse. “Back then, I was blind. I mistook worthless sand for something precious. If you’re willing to come back, I’ll cancel this ceremony without hesitation.”

He exhaled slowly before continuing, his tone turning gentler. “Even if you don’t… I’ll still be good to Liora. She reminds me too much of you.”

Despite everything she had already seen—despite knowing the truth beyond any doubt—those words made Liora’s heart tremble painfully.

On the screen, affection spilled freely between them, unrestrained and unmistakable.

Marcella appeared slightly drunk, her movements sluggish, her speech loose. Instead of answering him, she sprawled across the sofa like she owned the space.

Kaelen—the same man who had rebuked Liora for drinking—now stood patiently over a pot, preparing hangover broth. He fed Marcella carefully, one spoonful at a time, his movements tender and practiced.

Marcella turned away with a childish kick.

“Who would even want to bond with you?” she scoffed.

Kaelen didn’t bristle. He simply caught her foot and began rubbing it gently, his touch affectionate enough to make Liora’s throat tighten.

Marcella smiled, satisfied.

“I know I can’t be your luna,” she said lazily. “Your status won’t allow it. But I also know you never stopped loving me.”

She glanced around the room, her lips curving upward. “This chamber was decorated to suit my tastes. The ceremonial ring? You picked it because I liked that design. Even the heels she’s wearing—those were the ones I rejected.”

As she spoke, she nestled her head against Kaelen’s chest.

“It doesn’t matter,” Marcella murmured softly. “Titles mean nothing to me. As long as I’m the one in your heart, that’s enough. I won’t leave you again. I’ll stay—no matter what role I have to take.”

Liora’s fingers clenched around her phone until they trembled.

Her heart felt as though it were being torn apart, thread by thread.

And the cruelest truth of all—

Even after witnessing everything, even after uncovering every lie, a fragile spark of hope still lingered inside her… foolishly wishing that, at the very last moment, Kaelen would finally choose her.

In the very next moment, the silence shattered.

Kaelen—who had stood there wordless until now—suddenly moved. Without offering so much as an explanation, he reached out, pulled Marcella toward him, and sealed his mouth over hers. The kiss was deep and unrestrained, filled with a hunger that spoke of years of longing finally given release, as though everything he had suppressed had come rushing out at once.

Liora’s restraint collapsed.

Her body shook violently as tears spilled freely, blurring her vision until she could barely breathe.

For ten long years, she had loved him. Yet every time she had leaned in, every time she had tried to bridge that final distance with a kiss, Kaelen had subtly turned away. Back then, she had soothed herself with excuses—telling herself he was reserved, that his wolf was cautious, that affection simply wasn’t his way.

Never—not once—had she imagined that all the desire he withheld, all the warmth he kept locked away, had been meant for someone else entirely.

They had shared countless nights beneath the same roof, even the same bed, their scents mingling in intimacy. And yet, no matter how close they lay, Kaelen had always kept a part of himself untouched, carefully preserved for the woman he truly loved.

Liora dug her nails into her palms until the pain bit sharply, grounding her as she lowered her gaze. Her eyes landed on the heels still strapped to her feet—beautiful, suffocating things that suddenly felt unbearable.

They were a gift from Kaelen, given during their engagement celebration. Crafted with crystal-studded diamonds that shimmered like starlight, they were extravagant, breathtaking—straight out of a fairy tale. Liora had adored them at first sight.

But beauty didn’t change the truth.

They were a size too small.

Hours of wearing them had left her feet torn and bleeding, every step agony masked by a forced smile.

Without hesitation, Liora bent down, slipped them off, and tossed them straight into the trash bin.

Shoes that didn’t fit—no matter how dazzling—weren’t worth the pain.

And a mate bond that never truly belonged to her—no matter how much history it carried—wasn’t worth clinging to either.

She reached for her phone, intending to call for a ride, when a voice cut sharply through the air behind her.

“Liora.”

She turned.

The instant their eyes met, Kaelen released Marcella’s hand. His gaze flickered to Liora’s face, lingering on the faint bruise blooming against her skin. Guilt flashed through his eyes, quick and fleeting.

“You’ve sobered up now?” he said stiffly. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. I just wanted to stop you before things got out of control.”

Liora didn’t respond. She simply looked past him—straight at Marcella.

Sensing it, Kaelen hurried to speak again. “It’s not what you think. Just listen to me for a moment.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice as though reason alone could undo everything. “Don’t jump to conclusions. Marcella drank too much tonight. It wouldn’t have been safe for her to walk back alone, especially at this hour. So I brought her here.”

He paused, then added quickly, “She’s still your family. Of course I’d look after her. And she’s thoughtful—she even said she’d leave early so you wouldn’t misunderstand when you came back.”

Kaelen had always been a man of few words.

Yet now, when it came to Marcella, explanations poured from him endlessly. Each sentence was another shield, another excuse carefully placed in her defense.

Liora stared at him—the man she had known since childhood, the wolf she had trusted for over twenty years—and felt a chilling sense of unfamiliarity.

They had grown up together under the same moon, running through forests as pups, sharing dreams as they matured. She had stood by him through the harsh years of building his standing within the pack, supporting him when his ambitions threatened to consume him.

So how had she ended up reduced to nothing more than a substitute?

The question surfaced briefly… and then faded.

She no longer cared to chase the answer.

In seven days, she would be gone.

She wouldn’t have to swallow her pain anymore for the sake of so-called “pack harmony.”

Liora’s gaze shifted to Marcella. Something inside her finally snapped, and the words she had buried for over a decade spilled out at last—raw, sharp, and unfiltered.

“She’s not my sister,” Liora said coldly. “She’s the child of a kept woman—and now she’s playing the same role herself.”

The words struck like thunder.

Marcella didn’t react, her expression unchanged. But Kaelen stiffened, his fury igniting instantly.

The word kept seemed to tear through the last remnants of his restraint. He lunged toward Liora, his voice erupting into a furious snarl that echoed through the room.

“Liora! What kind of garbage are you saying? Apologize to Marcella—right now!”

His eyes burned as he continued, every word cruel and deliberate. “No parents to raise you properly—no wonder you turned out like this. You’re twisted, spiteful, and impossible to love. This is exactly what you deserve!”

In ten years, Kaelen had never once raised his voice at Liora.

But for Marcella—within a single night—he had shouted at her twice.

Each accusation cut deeper than the last, slicing straight into the most vulnerable parts of Liora’s heart, leaving wounds no wolf could heal.