Leona Carpenter’s mind went completely blank, her inner wolf paralyzed. Her legs felt heavy as lead, too heavy to move. A massive black SUV tore past her like a streak of dark lightning, the sheer force of it almost terrifying. The violent gust of wind it kicked up sent her crashing hard onto the wet, unforgiving pavement.

She figured the driver would just speed off to the edge of the territory—there wasn’t a soul around to see what happened. But instead, the beast of a car swung around and screeched to a halt right in front of her.

The door swung open, and a pair of perfectly polished black leather boots stepped out. Long, straight legs strode toward her with terrifying purpose, and a black umbrella tilted over her head to block the unrelenting pouring rain. An overwhelming, suffocatingly powerful Alpha aura rolled off him, heavy enough to bring a weaker wolf to their knees.

"You okay?" Vance Martinez’s deep, rich rumble cut through the drumming of the rain, vibrating straight into her bones.

Leona lifted her gaze to the imposing male standing over her. He had sharp, striking features, a chiseled jawline, and dark, magnetic eyes that pulled her right in. There was a dangerous, ancient glint in them—the look of a true predator—that she couldn't look away from.

Wait… those eyes. Did her wolf recognize them? She couldn’t quite place the primal pull.

Leona shook her head, her voice soft and rough from the shock. "I’m fine, thank you…"

She pushed herself up with effort, but the scrape on her calf and the silver-like burn of the cut on her foot made her flinch hard, and she stumbled right back down, her weak muscles betraying her.

Suddenly, a strong, muscular arm curled around her waist, hauling her forcefully against a solid, scorching-hot frame.

Before she knew it, she was pressed right up against Vance’s chest, completely engulfed in his crisp, overwhelmingly dominant masculine scent—like dark woods and a brewing storm. Her hands landed instinctively on his chest, and she could feel the hard, firm muscle under his dress shirt—and her heart immediately started hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Electric tingles sparked across her skin where he touched her, making her inner wolf sit up and bare its teeth in confusion.

Her palms burned like fire, and she tried to scramble back, fighting the unnatural pull. Instead of letting go, he just scooped her up effortlessly into his arms like she weighed nothing.

She bared her teeth, a low warning growl vibrating in her throat, her gaze turning icy. "What do you think you’re doing? Put me down!"

She’d been bonded to Michael Hansen for three years, and they’d barely even touched outside of public appearances. A stranger male being this physically forward, letting his scent invade hers? It made her skin prickle with aggressive discomfort.

Vance held her hostile gaze, his expression completely calm and unshakable. "You’re hurt. You need to get to the healers right now."

"I-I can walk on my own paws," she spat back, struggling. Being this close to him made her jittery; his cool, suffocatingly powerful aura wrapped around her like a physical chain, and it only amplified her nerves.

"Don't move," he ordered. He didn't just say it—he used his Alpha Command. The raw, authoritative power of his voice slammed into her, forcing her spine straight, and all the protests instantly died right in Leona’s throat as her wolf involuntarily submitted to the sheer weight of his dominance.

Once she was settled in the heavy vehicle, a cold chill went through her and she sneezed. Vance reached over to turn down the AC, then noticed she was still shivering, and draped his heavy wool coat over her shoulders. "Don’t let your wolf freeze."

"Thank you." The coat was drenched in his potent scent and intoxicating warmth, and it stirred something weird, wild, and unnameable deep in her chest.

Vance caught the pink rising in her cheeks, and a flicker of predatory amusement glinted in his dark eyes. "I should be the one thanking you."

"What do you mean?" Leona blinked, her wolf utterly confused.

He held her gaze steady, his voice a low, sure purr. "Thank you for letting me apologize. For giving me a chance to make this right."

The massive car ate up the road quickly, and before long they pulled up to a human hospital near the territory borders. Leona stubbornly insisted on walking on her own two feet, fighting the pain, so Vance matched her slow pace as she limped toward the emergency entrance.

When she came back out, smelling of sterile antiseptics that masked her natural scent, she found him with his broad back to her, talking on his phone. The second his heightened senses picked up her approach, he hung up and walked straight over. "Here’s my number. Howl if you need anything at all."

"I don’t need anything else," Leona said politely, keeping her guard up and declining the card he held out. The accident was over, and she liked to keep things simple—no unnecessary messy ties with a dangerously powerful strange Alpha.

She paused, then held out his coat to him. "Here’s your coat. I’ll pay to have your scent washed out of it, of course."

Vance glanced at the coat in her hands, a soft, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You need it way more than I do right now."

His simple line warmed her chest all of a sudden, an unexpected comfort to her battered inner wolf. She wondered if she was just extra raw and mate-less today, to get this worked up over a stranger Alpha’s small kindness.

"Thank you, but I’m fine. I really need to go." She turned down his offer of further help—she had urgent matters waiting for her back at the Hansen pack house.

Vance watched her slender figure retreat down the sidewalk, the beast beneath his skin purring as a determined glint burned in his eyes. "We’ll meet again soon, little wolf."

Leona Carpenter stepped across the threshold of the Alpha’s estate—what was supposed to be her and Michael Hansen’s shared den. Her chest felt heavy as she scanned the hollow, empty rooms. She already knew she’d be the only wolf walking through that door tonight.

Her gaze snagged on the bold ceremonial mating wreath nailed to the entry door. Without a single flicker of hesitation or regret, Leona’s claws unsheathed, and she stepped forward, wrenching it down and shredding the woven vines.

Every surface in the house was strung with vibrant autumn decor meant to bless their union, and every piece just rubbed her raw, feral anger in deeper. She methodically tore it all down, one by one, until her eyes finally landed on the framed mating ceremony photo of her and Michael.

Leona stared at it in silence. The raw ache in her gaze faded, her inner wolf retreating and leaving nothing but cold, predatory indifference in its place. She grabbed a pair of silver shears and drove the blade straight through the middle of their grinning faces, letting the glass shatter like their so-called bond.

Once every trace of their impending mating was erased, Leona sank alone onto the couch and sat there in the dark from dusk till dawn. Just as exhaustion was starting to blur her vision and make her heightened senses spin, she finally heard a key turn in the lock.

Once upon a time, her wolf would’ve leaped right out of her chest, tail wagging, to greet her Alpha. This time? She stayed right where she was, calm as stone, ignoring his presence.

Michael walked in without a shred of guilt on his face, though the nauseatingly sweet scent of Aila’s vanilla and hospital antiseptics clung heavily to his clothes. He dropped tiredly onto the opposite end of the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose, and let his Alpha aura bleed into the room. "Go get me a cup of coffee," he commanded.

Leona let out a dry, guttural laugh. "Michael. The mating is off. We’re done."

Her words came out hard, unshakable—there was no mistaking the absolute finality in them.

Michael’s dark eyes locked with hers, unreadable as ever, like he was turning some pack strategy over in his head.

Leona’s lips tugged into a sardonic, fanged smirk. "Why the confused look? You already made your choice, didn’t you? When you left me stranded at the altar to answer Aila’s whimpering?"

Michael grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the coffee table, fished one out with that familiar, practiced motion, lit it to mask the tension in his scent, and took a long, deep drag. After a minute of dead silence, he spoke in a cool, infuriatingly even tone. "Severing this tie is better for both our wolves. You’ve always been aggressively territorial over Aila, way too deep for that to ever change. Staying bonded would only hurt her more."

Leona stared at him, and this time she laughed out loud, a wild, untethered sound with no holding back. "I honestly have to wonder—would you skin your own wolf alive if Aila Ellis asked you to?"

Michael stubbed his cigarette out hard in the ashtray, a flash of Alpha impatience glinting in his eyes as he bared his teeth slightly. "For three years, I tried to force my wolf to move on from her. But you can’t fight a fated pull. I hope you can forgive me. Just don’t bear your fangs at Aila—she didn’t do anything wrong."

That’s when Leona completely lost it, cackling like she’d just heard the funniest joke in the world.

Three years of sleeping in his den, three years of day in and day out spilling her own blood to protect his territory. She’d poured every piece of herself into fixing his broken pack, stupidly believing loyalty could tame a male, that her warmth could eventually thaw the ice around his heart.

For him, she’d given up so much—even turned her back on her own powerful bloodline. And after all that? All she got was this bullshit excuse: you can’t control a fated pull.

Michael watched her like she’d gone completely feral, a brief flicker of something that looked almost like pain crossing his face. "This card has a hundred grand on it. Enough for you to live comfortably as a lone wolf back in the countryside."

So that was it. Three years of giving him her absolute submission and loyalty, and he priced it at a hundred thousand dollars.

But what did he know? To Leona Carpenter, a lousy hundred grand meant nothing.

"Michael, my wolf submitted to you for you—nothing else. I don’t give a single crap about the Hansen pack's fortune, or that stupid, coveted title of Luna!" Leona’s face was set like stone, her gaze holding nothing but cold indifference and unshakable resolve.

"I don’t want your pathetic apology, and I don’t want your money! Get that through your thick skull: My wolf rejects yours. We will never, ever get back together." With that, she stood, held her head high, and walked straight for the door with lethal purpose.

Michael watched her walk out, taking in that determined, dominant stride of hers, and for a split second his chest tightened so sharply it knocked the breath right out of his lungs. Before he even knew what he was doing, his inner wolf whined, and his hand lifted half an inch, instinctively reaching for her.