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.

Every sentence struck Liora like a blade, slicing deep and leaving wounds she knew would never truly heal.

For a heartbeat, she wondered if her ears had betrayed her—if her mind was simply refusing to accept what Kaelen had just hurled at her. The words echoed cruelly, heavy with malice, and she struggled to reconcile them with the man she had loved for most of her life.

How could someone who once swore to protect her speak with such venom?

She slowly lifted her head. What she saw made her chest seize.

Kaelen stood squarely in front of Marcella, his broad frame instinctively shielding her, his posture unmistakably defensive. That familiar stance was like a cruel mockery of the past. It dragged Liora straight back to her childhood—back to the days when Marcella’s mother, Aurelia, had clawed her way into the pack as a mistress, forcing Liora’s mother, Eveline, into the shadows. Back then, Liora had endured endless humiliation and quiet cruelty, while her father, Alaric, pretended not to see any of it.

And every single time, it had been Kaelen—living just beyond the boundary of their territory—who had come running.

He was the one who stood between her and the world, baring his fangs when others crossed the line. He had demanded fairness, pulled Liora into his arms when she cried, and whispered reassurance when she felt small and unwanted.

Whenever Liora doubted herself, Kaelen would cup her face and say with unwavering certainty,

“Liora, you’re the best person I know. If they don’t want you, then I do. No matter what happens, I’ll always be on your side. I’ll protect you.”

Those words had once been her anchor.

But time had a way of eroding even the strongest promises. The vows of their youth had faded into nothing but distant echoes, hollow and meaningless.

Now, the instinct to protect—the loyalty she once believed belonged to her—was being offered to Marcella instead. To the very person who had torn her world apart.

Liora tried to steady herself, to keep her spine straight and her pride intact, but the tears betrayed her, spilling freely no matter how hard she fought them. Her heart felt flayed open, raw and exposed, and for the first time, she couldn’t find a single word to defend herself.

Seeing her crumble like that seemed to shake Kaelen. His expression faltered, guilt flashing briefly across his features. His gaze avoided her eyes, drifting instead to her feet, where blood stained the floor.

“You’re injured?” he asked quietly.

Even now, after everything, he still couldn’t bring himself to be completely cold toward her.

Kaelen let out a low sigh, weariness and regret weighing down his voice. “Forget it. Let’s pretend tonight never happened. We were drunk. It was all nonsense. From tomorrow on—”

“There is no tomorrow for us,” Liora cut in, her voice barely audible.

“What?” Kaelen frowned.

He sensed it then—something had shifted irrevocably inside her. Something he hadn’t prepared for.

But the chaos of the night had drained him. His thoughts were tangled entirely around Marcella, leaving no space for Liora anymore.

Before he could speak again, a trembling sob broke through the tension.

“Sister… do you really hate me that much?” Marcella cried, her voice shaking. “Was sending me abroad not enough? Now you want to push me to my death too? Fine—if dying means I won’t be a burden to Brother Kaelen anymore, then I’ll do it!”

Her words detonated like thunder.

Liora hadn’t even finished processing them when Marcella suddenly turned and ran toward the road.

The streets were empty, the night thick with silence, but panic surged through Kaelen without warning. He didn’t hesitate—not even for a second. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, his only instinct to chase after her.

In his blind rush, he slammed into Liora.

She was thrown hard onto the ground. Sharp gravel tore into her already injured skin, pain flaring so violently it stole the breath from her lungs.

The impact, the exhaustion, the weight of everything she had endured—her strength finally gave out. She lay there, unable even to cry.

Ten years.

Ten years of love, devotion, and belief—wasted.

It had never been equal. Never mutual. A childhood bond could not compete with a love born of longing and regret. She had never stood a chance against the woman Kaelen had carried in his heart all along.

After what felt like an eternity, Liora forced herself upright. Gritting her teeth, she dragged her injured leg behind her as she made her way back to her room.

Inside, she cleaned the blood from her feet in silence. Then, without hesitation, she gathered the wedding decorations she had chosen so carefully—each piece once filled with hope—and threw them away.

Her eyes lingered on the wedding countdown hanging in the living room. She paused, her chest tightening.

Then she exhaled softly and tore off the word wedding.

In its place, she silently marked the days until she would leave.

There was so much to pack. She worked through the night, time blurring together, until exhaustion finally dragged her into an uneasy sleep around four in the morning.

Just three hours later, her phone rang sharply, ripping her from her dreams.

“Liora, are you awake?” Kaelen’s voice came through the line. “I ordered your favorite soup. I won’t be coming back today. Let’s postpone the wedding photoshoot. There’s an emergency at the company, and I can’t step away.”

Liora pressed her fingers to her aching temples, her throat dry and sore. “Okay,” she replied simply.

Her immediate agreement—and perhaps the quiet sorrow she failed to conceal—seemed to unsettle him. Kaelen hesitated, his tone softening, as though he sensed the distance growing between them… and didn’t know how to close it.