Moonfeast Reckoning The Alpha’s Bond Rejection

Selene Ashvale was retrieving my patrol relic when the transport harness failed. Her leg shattered on impact.

By the time I reached the healer's den, some young wolf with bloodshot eyes was snarling at me without pause:

"What gave you the right to send the Lady Ashvale to fetch your gear? If you hadn't been too lazy to handle it yourself, she never would've gotten hurt!"

"Do you have any idea her leg is fractured? That her ribs are cracked too?"

His tone dripped with self-righteous fury, like he was reprimanding a low-rank wolf who'd failed his duties.

It wasn't just me standing there stunned. Every packmate and blood-kin who'd come to check on Selene wore the same frozen expression of disbelief.

Selene cast him an indulgent look, her scent softening with fondness before she turned to soothe me:

"He's young. He speaks his mind when he's defending someone under his care. Don't take it personally."

Her heart clearly wasn't with me anymore. The mate bond between us had grown cold and thin. So no, I didn't take it personally.

I stared calmly at the pup sobbing like his world had crumbled, waiting until he'd exhausted himself.

"Done? Good. My turn."

"This is the second time your trade den has made this kind of careless mistake. If I don't get a reasonable explanation, you can deal with the pack enforcers and Nightfang legal counsel."

1.

The color drained from the young wolf's face. He looked desperately toward the female lying in the healing bed.

Selene's expression shifted:

"Kael Nightfang, it was my mistake. It has nothing to do with him. I've already handled the incident."

"Your mistake?"

I raised an eyebrow and looked directly at Selene:

"How bad is it?"

Selene coughed lightly:

"I'm fine. Just the fractured leg and a mild head injury. You don't need to—"

I cut her off:

"I was asking about the relic."

My coldness struck the young wolf like a physical blow. His voice shot up:

"The Lady Ashvale is lying here injured and all you care about is some patrol gear? Do you even have a conscience?!"

"You must be Ronan Duskvein."

I slid my hands into the pockets of my coat, unhurried, my face expressionless as I regarded him:

"First—that relic is worth the equivalent of two and a half million in territory resources. A rare crafting. One of a handful in existence."

"Second—Selene is my bonded mate. She was retrieving my gear. Is there a problem?"

"Third..."

I paused, my gaze dropping to his hand clutching the fabric of Selene's healing gown:

"You're just some stray pup Selene sponsored out of pity. So tell me—what exactly gives you the right to stand here and interrogate me?"

Ronan's face flushed crimson. He released her gown instinctively, but still tried to defend himself:

"I—I just feel bad for Lady Ashvale!"

"You could've retrieved the relic yourself, but you made her travel all that way. Now something's happened and you don't even have a single word of concern—"

I glanced at the message my omega assistant had just sent through the pack link. A cold smile tugged at my lips.

"Save your sympathy for yourself."

"The damage assessment just came in. Restoration costs are estimated at over three hundred thousand in pack credits, minimum. How do you plan to settle this?"

Ronan's legs buckled. He swayed, then glared at me with stubborn, wounded fury:

"Th-three hundred thousand? That's robbery!"

Then his eyes darted to Selene, pleading:

"Lady Ashvale..."

Selene pushed herself upright, aggravating her wound. She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, her scent spiking with pain.

"Kael, he just started working the trade dens—he's still a pup. Where would he get three hundred thousand? Don't frighten him."

"It was my mistake. I'll pay you back."

Ronan's eyes lit up instantly. A smug little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

I looked at her and let out a mocking laugh:

"The Lady Ashvale is certainly generous. Wasn't buying him an entire trade outpost enough?"

Selene clearly hadn't expected me to know about that. Her expression froze, her scent going sharp with surprise.

Ronan lost all his earlier bravado. He bit his lip and scrambled to explain:

"Alpha Kael, if you're angry, take it out on me. Don't blame Lady Ashvale. She only helped me establish my den because she felt sorry for me."

Selene sighed and waved Ronan off:

"This has nothing to do with you. Return to your quarters for now."

Ronan hung his head and shuffled toward the door, glancing back every few steps with those wounded pup eyes. But the moment he reached the threshold, he spun around and hurried back.