Byron knocked on my door early the next morning.

"Ready?" he asked, his face a mask of tired tenderness. "I think you need to see Liam for yourself. So you can understand the position I'm in."

I nodded and followed him to the dungeons.

The Blackwood dungeons were built in the deepest part of the territory, the thick stone walls covered in ancient runes that suppressed a wolf's power.

The air was thick with the reek of silver and despair.

"He's in the deepest cell," Byron said. "For the charge of treason."

Treason.

What a joke.

We walked past rows of iron bars, past the rogues and criminals locked inside.

Their eyes followed us with fear and hatred.

Finally, we stopped at the last cell.

And I saw him.

Liam.

My brother.

He was shackled to the wall with silver-etched chains, his hands pulled high above his head.

The silver had burned deep wounds into his skin, crusted with dark, dried blood.

A werewolf's healing ability was useless against it.

"Liam?" I gripped the iron bars, my voice trembling.

He slowly lifted his head.

His eyes, once bright as stars, were now dull and lifeless, the light of his wolf gone.

"Sandra?" His voice was a barely audible rasp. "You came."

I wanted to reach for him, but the bars were in the way.

"Look at your brother now," a guard sneered from behind us. "Once a Beta, now he's less than an omega."

Before I could even turn to snap at the guard, Byron moved.

A wave of pure Alpha rage slammed into the room.

In a blur of motion, he spun, his hand clamping around the guard’s throat. He slammed him against the stone wall with a sickening thud.

"You," Byron’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, like something straight from hell. "Whose name are you dragging through the dirt with that filthy mouth?"

The guard went white, clawing desperately at Byron's hand.

"She is your Luna," Byron snarled, golden fire blazing in his eyes. The sheer weight of his Alpha aura sucked the air right out of the dungeon. "If I ever hear you disrespect her again, I will rip your tongue out myself."

He released his grip. The guard collapsed to the floor, gasping and coughing violently.

Byron straightened his collar, as if the brutal outburst had never happened.

He turned and pulled me back into his arms.

"I'm so sorry, baby. You shouldn't have to hear that filth."

He pressed my head against his chest. His voice was thick with suppressed pain. "I know you're hurting. I am too. But look... the evidence is overwhelming. The Elders have spoken. Even as Alpha, I can't just break pack law."

I stared at him, unblinking.

This "law" he spoke of... wasn't it just another cage he'd built?

This "evidence"... hadn't he forged it with his own hands?

"Sandra." Liam’s voice was weak. "Don't fight him for me. It's not worth it."

"Liam—"

"I know." He looked at me, a flicker of clarity in his dull eyes. "It's too late for words now."

"See?" Byron murmured from behind me. "Even he admits it. Sandra, we have to be rational. If you keep fighting this... more people will get hurt."

More people.

He meant my mother.

"So you're just going to let him die here?" I spun around to face Byron. "You're going to watch my only brother rot away from silver poisoning?"

Byron opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly, his eyes glazed over.

It was the look of a mind-link.

His brow furrowed instantly.

Seconds later, he snapped back to reality, his face etched with undeniable exhaustion.

"I'm sorry. My Beta just linked me. There's an emergency in the pack," he said, already turning away. "I have to handle it. Now."

An emergency.

What kind of emergency was more important than this?

"Byron." I called out.

He stopped and looked back. His eyes still held a flicker of annoyance that didn't belong to me.

"What is it?"

I looked at him. The man I once believed was my fated mate.

"Nothing," I said flatly. "Go."

He gave me a long, complicated look, as if he wanted to say more. But in the end, he just turned and strode out of the dungeon.

I stood frozen, listening to his footsteps fade away.

He seemed to have forgotten something crucial.

I could feel the other end of his mind-link.

I knew exactly where he was going. He was going to see Ariana.

By the time I got back to our rooms, rage and humiliation were burning through my veins.

No more waiting.

No more watching him play his twisted games.

I was going to confront him. Rip away that perfect mask once and for all.

An hour later, Byron returned.

He walked through the door carrying a thick, chaotic scent.

It was a mess of Ariana’s sharp floral perfume, his own cedarwood scent, and a faint, unsettling undertone of blood and herbs.

His face was etched with exhaustion, his shirt cuffs wrinkled and messy.

He saw me and froze for a second, then tried to force a smile. "Sandra? You're still up?"

I stood in the center of the living room, arms crossed, cold as a block of ice. "Where were you?"

"Handling a... difficult situation."

He walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a whiskey, his hand not quite steady.

"A difficult situation?" I sneered, stalking toward him. "Or was it just another one of Ariana's 'emergencies' that only you could handle?"

His hand froze mid-air. His back was to me, but I saw his shoulders go rigid.

"Sandra, don't."

"Don't what?" I circled around to face him, staring into his tired, golden eyes. "I saw you take her mind-link in the dungeon. I saw the frustration on your face. And now you come back reeking of her chaos. Byron, what the hell are our pup and I to you?"

"It's not—" he started, his voice a raw rasp, but he cut himself off.

As if the words were stuck in his throat, choking him.

"It's not what?" I pressed, closing in. Desperation and rage made me reckless.

"You smell like her! It's the kind of scent that only clings when emotions run high, when you're holding someone close! Tell me, are you tired of me? Was I just a tool to secure your position from the very beginning?"

"Enough!" He slammed the glass down, whiskey sloshing over the rim. His eyes were filled with pain. "It's not what you think!"

"Then what is it?" I screamed. "Explain it! Tell me why you sacrificed my brother and our unborn pup for her! Why does the entire pack have to bend to her every whim? What kind of hold does she have on you?"

"I can't tell you!" he roared, like a caged animal. "You're better off not knowing!"

"That same damn excuse!" I completely lost it. "'It's for your own good!' 'It's for the pack!' You always have a noble reason, don't you? Byron, I am done with your secrets and your lies!"

That was the moment I snapped.

My inner wolf surged, a tidal wave of fury and grief. Power exploded from me, uncontrolled.

The glasses in the room began to hum and vibrate. The lights flickered wildly.

Byron’s expression shifted from pain to pure alarm.

"Sandra, calm down!" He grabbed my shoulders. "Get control of your power! It's going to tear you apart!"

I could feel my sanity slipping, swallowed by the raging wolf inside me.

I wanted to destroy everything. Destroy him. Destroy this world of lies.

"Let go of me!" I struggled, my nails digging bloody lines into his arms.

"I can't!"

He stared at my eyes, which were beginning to glow red with uncontrolled power. A look of utter desperation and heartbreak crossed his face. "Your mind is about to shatter! Sandra, please, stop!"

But I couldn't hear him over the roaring in my ears, the sound of my own heart breaking.

"I'm sorry..." His trembling voice was a whisper from far away. "I'm so sorry. I can't let you destroy yourself..."

Then I felt it.

A gentle but unstoppable force, flowing into me through our mate bond.

No. He wouldn't—

"What are you doing?" I stared at him in horror. Tears were streaming down his face.

"I'm saving you," he choked out, his voice thick with an agony I couldn't understand. "Through our sacred bond, I, Alpha Byron... temporarily... seal your wolf."

"No!" I shrieked. "You can't! That's blasphemy!"

But it was too late.

The power began to drain out of me, like water from a cracked dam.

It felt like a hole was being ripped open in my very soul, everything precious pouring out.

My wolf, my soulmate since birth, let out a final, desperate howl.

And then, silence.

I collapsed to the floor, gasping.

My senses were dulling, fading away. My sharp hearing, my keen sense of smell, my night vision—all gone.

The worst part... my wolf was gone.

Completely vanished.

He knelt beside me, his own breathing ragged. His voice was a strained, painful whisper. "Sandra... are you... calm now?"

I tried to speak, but my voice was gone.

I tried to stand, but my legs were useless.

He took a deep breath, his face hardening into a mask of cold resolve. "This ends now, Sandra. Until you learn to control yourself, I'm holding onto your power. It's for your own protection. And for the protection of everyone else."

I looked up into his eyes, those golden eyes I used to adore.

All I could see now was cold, hard control.

My wolf, the other half of my soul, was silent for the first time in my life.

And in that terrible silence, all that was left was a cold, burning hatred.

After Byron left, I was alone on the floor.

Weak.

Hopeless.

Humiliated.

The evidence of our three years together surrounded me.

Our photos on the wall, the jewelry he gave me on the table, the books we read together on the shelf.

All of it mocked my stupidity.

I struggled to my feet, using all my strength to get to the wall.

"Go to hell."

I grabbed a vase and hurled it at our first photo together.

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room.

My rage took over. It was a blur of shattering glass and splintering wood. I tore the room apart, reducing every symbol of his lies to wreckage. The jewelry box, the expensive decorations—all of it, garbage.

"Die!" I screamed. "All of it, just die!"

I shattered his necklaces under my heel, ripped his letters to confetti, and stomped on every beautiful memory until it was nothing but dust.

I kept going until I had no strength left to stand.

I collapsed among the wreckage, gasping for air. Without my wolf, I was weaker than a human.

Two hours later, Byron stood in the doorway again, his eyes taking in the wreckage.

"Sandra," his voice was thick with pain. "Why would you do this to our memories?"

I pushed myself up from the floor, my gaze like ice.

"Memories?" I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "What memories? The ones where you lied to my face?"

He walked toward me, each step filled with an Alpha's grace.

"I did this to protect you," he said, his voice low. "To stop you from doing something reckless. Look at the state you're in—"

"Protect me?" I cut him off. "By ripping my wolf from me?"

But the words died in my throat.

A familiar scent hit me.

Even with my senses dulled, I could still smell it.

The scent of Ariana was wrapped around him, clinging to him like a second skin.

My eyes slowly drifted down to his chest.

Peeking out from his shirt pocket was the smooth, silver edge of something I knew all too well.

The Moonstone.

It had been passed down through my family for generations, a relic meant to soothe the powerful wolf within a Luna.

My mother gave it to me on my coming-of-age ceremony, telling me only my fated mate could ever hold it for me.

The day we mated, I gave it to Byron for safekeeping.

It was supposed to be mine.

And now, my stone was drenched in Ariana’s overwhelming scent.

He had just... he had used it to soothe another female.

"You were with her," my voice was a low, arctic wind.

Byron’s hand instinctively flew to his pocket, a dead giveaway.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The Moonstone," I pointed, my voice trembling with a rage so deep it burned. "You took my Moonstone... and you used it on her. When I needed it most—after losing our pup, after you stole my power—you gave it to the monster who killed our child!"

The color drained from his face. His eyes were a chaotic storm of unexplainable pain and conflict.

"Sandra, it wasn't like that, I was just—"

"Just what?" I snapped. "Decided I wasn't worthy of it anymore? That because I stopped being your obedient little Luna, you could just give my birthright to your new favorite?"

"No!" he snarled, his eyes bloodshot. But he offered no other explanation.

I laughed.

The sound was sharp and manic.

"You know what?" I said slowly, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "I finally get it. You're not an Alpha. You're a coward who has to break his mate to feel secure."

A dangerous light flared in his eyes.

"What did you say?"

"I said you're a coward," I repeated, each word a poisoned dart. "A pathetic creature who can't handle a strong female. So you had to strip away my power to make me as weak as you are."

"Shut up."

"A real Alpha doesn't need to crush his mate," I went on. "But you're not a real Alpha. You're just a monster wearing an Alpha's—"

His eyes glazed over.

Another mind-link.

Ariana again.

A few seconds later, he was back, his face a mask of pure exhaustion.

He clenched his fists, a flicker of alarm crossing his face as if something terrible was happening on the other end.

"Enough," he said, turning for the door. "I don't have time for this nonsense."

"Run," I called after him. "Run back to your little lover. Take my things with you and go soothe your wounded pride."

His steps faltered. His shoulders shook with the impact of my words.

"Sandra, if you keep this up, you're going to destroy what little we have left," his voice was a tired, raw scrape.

"What we have left?" I shrieked, the sound weak but full of venom. "The only thing I regret is ever loving a monster like you!"

Byron’s entire body went rigid, as if an invisible blade had just run him through.

Then he walked out of the room without a backward glance.

I watched him go, the hatred inside me burning hotter than ever.

I had to get out.

I had to find my father's men.

I dragged my weak body toward the door, but the second I stepped outside, several figures jumped out of the shadows.

Rogues.

Their eyes glowed with bloodlust.

"Byron!" I screamed in desperation. "Byron!"

But the night was silent.

He was gone, as if he had never been there at all.