Cold silver chains bit into my wrists.

I woke up tied to a metal chair in an abandoned warehouse.

Crumbling concrete walls and rusted machinery surrounded me.

My head was splitting.

"She's awake," a rough voice said.

I looked up to see three rogues circling me.

Their eyes glowed with a wild light, their faces twisted into sadistic grins.

"Finally awake, little princess," one of them said, walking toward me. "We've been waiting for you."

"What do you want?" My voice was a weak rasp.

"It's not what we want," another rogue grinned. "It's what your Alpha wants."

Alpha?

"Byron?"

"That's the one." The first rogue pulled a communicator from his pocket. "He said you weren't behaving. That you needed a little... lesson."

The communicator crackled to life.

"She's here, Alpha. Secure."

Byron's voice was a tired rasp on the other end. "Just watch her. Leave her alone for three days. Let her calm down. I'll pick her up after."

The connection went dead. The rogue grinned, a slow, ugly stretch of his lips. "Did you catch that? Your Alpha wants you to 'calm down.' We have plenty of ways to help with that."

My heart stopped beating.

It was really his voice.

My mate.

The man I once loved.

He had actually handed me over to these animals.

"I'll be back with Ariana in three days," he continued. "When I return, I expect to find a much more obedient Luna."

The call ended.

The rogues looked at me, their eyes filled with malice.

"You hear that, little princess?" one of them said. "Your Alpha gave us three days. We're going to have so much fun."

"He is not my Alpha," I hissed.

"Isn't he?" the rogue laughed. "Then why do you still carry his mark? Why is your wolf completely suppressed by him?"

I had no answer.

Because he was right.

"Don't worry," another rogue said, coming closer. "By the time we're done with you, maybe you'll be ready to love him again."

Just then, the warehouse door swung open.

A familiar figure walked in.

Ariana.

She wore an elegant black dress, a triumphant smile on her face.

"Well, well, look what we have here," she purred, crouching in front of me. "I came to admire my handiwork. To see the 'perfect' Sandra brought so low."

"What are you doing here?" I snarled.

"I came to admire my masterpiece," she said, crouching in front of me. "To see what the 'perfect' Sandra looks like now."

"You killer," I stared into her eyes. "Are you happy now that our child is dead?"

"Child?" Ariana laughed. "You mean that little accident? Honestly, I should thank the Moon Goddess for letting me 'lose control' at just the right moment."

She reached out and stroked my cheek.

"You know, Byron never wanted that pup. He told me that if you produced an heir, it would be much harder for him to get rid of you."

Every word was another silver knife in my heart.

"So you planned it all."

"Of course." Ariana stood up and began to pace around me. "But that was just the beginning. Do you want to know how your mother got her curse?"

My blood froze.

"It wasn't hereditary," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "It was 'Soul-Ember Dust,' a little something I bought from an exiled shaman."

"What?"

"It's a clever poison," she said, a mad light in her eyes. "It doesn't touch the body. It goes straight for the soul, severing the connection to her wolf and shredding the mind. It leaves her trapped on the edge of sanity, forever."

I tried to lunge, but the silver chains held me fast.

"You're insane!"

"Insane?" Ariana laughed. "No, I'm just making sure you'll never be a threat to my position. Your mother, your brother, your child, and now you."

She leaned in close, her voice a poisonous hiss.

"And Byron? He knew about all of it. He even helped me cover my tracks."

Endless, mental torture.

My mother wasn't sick. She was living in a hell this woman had designed.

And Byron knew everything.

Something inside me snapped. Primal hatred erased everything else.

I was a cornered animal, throwing every ounce of my strength against the silver chains.

The metal tore deep gashes into my skin, blood pouring down my arms.

I didn't care.

I just wanted to tear this venomous woman apart.

With a guttural roar, I lunged, sinking my teeth into the soft flesh of her throat.

My teeth tore through the skin of Ariana's throat.

The taste of blood exploded in my mouth.

"Ahhh!" she screamed, stumbling back, clutching the bleeding wound. "You lunatic! You bit me!"

Blood gushed between her fingers, staining her elegant black dress.

"Kill her!" she shrieked at the rogues. "Teach this bitch a lesson!"

The first lash hit my back.

The silver-laced whip tore through fabric and flesh, the poison searing my veins like fire.

Without my wolf's healing, the pain was a fire burning through my nerves.

"This is what you get for biting me!" Ariana howled, still clutching her throat.

The second lash. The third.

Each one landed precisely on my back, my arms, my legs.

The silver kept the wounds from healing, blood weeping from the torn flesh.

"Is that enough?" one of the rogues asked.

"No!" Ariana's eyes burned with a mad fire. "Break her leg! I want her to know what happens when you defy me!"

"Wait, Miss Ariana, the Alpha said not to—"

"I said break her leg!" Ariana screamed. "Byron won't blame me for what happens to this trash!"

The rogue hesitated for a second, then raised an iron bar.

"No!"

The sickening crack of bone echoed in the warehouse.

Agony exploded behind my eyes, threatening to drag me into darkness.

I could feel the jagged edges of the bone tearing through my muscle.

But with no wolf to heal me, all I could do was endure the blinding pain.

"That's still not enough," Ariana said, walking up to me and looking down. "I want you to remember this moment. Remember the consequences of defying me."

She turned to the rogues.

"Lock her up. No food, no water for three days. Let her think about what she's done."

Darkness swallowed me.

Three days.

For three whole days, I was left in that cold warehouse.

No food. No water. Just endless pain and the torment of silver poisoning.

The agony in my broken leg made sleep impossible.

The whip wounds on my back festered, the smell of rot filling the air.

By the fourth day, consciousness was a distant shore I couldn't reach.

By the fifth, hallucinations were my only companions.

On the morning of the sixth day, the door finally creaked open.

"Time's up," a rogue said coldly. "The Alpha wants us to drop you off."

They tossed me out like a piece of trash at the edge of the Blackwood territory.

I lay on the cold, damp earth, gasping for air.

Every breath was a fresh wave of agony.

A communicator buzzed inside my torn clothes.

An emergency call from my mother's sanctuary.

"Miss Sandra!" the caregiver's voice was frantic. "They cut off the Moonpetal three days ago!"

Moonpetal.

Three days ago.

The day I was taken.

"What?" I forced the words out. "How could—"

"We've contacted every supplier we know. They've all been given the same order from on high: the Blackwood Pack is cut off."

Orders from a higher power.

Only one person had that kind of authority.

Byron.

I forced myself to dial my father's number.

"Sandra? My God, your voice—"

"Father," I said weakly. "Send men to move my mother. Right now."

"What happened?"

"Byron cut off the Moonpetal. She doesn't have much time."

"I'll send them immediately. Where are you?"

"On my way," I said, struggling to my feet, my broken leg screaming in protest. "Give me two hours."

I dragged my broken body to the sanctuary.

My mother lay on the bed, her face pale as a sheet. Her eyes were open but unfocused. She was already half-gone.

"She's been like this since last night," the caregiver whispered. "The damage to her spiritual link is accelerating. Without the Moonpetal to calm her, the curse is getting stronger."

I took my mother's cold hand.

"How long do we have?"

The caregiver hesitated, then answered with a tremor in her voice.

"It was Alpha Byron," the caregiver whispered, her voice trembling. "He personally ordered the shipments stopped seven days ago. He timed it. He knew that without Moonpetal, her mind would shatter within three days..."

Seven days ago.

The day after I lost my child.

He had planned it all.

The death of my child was just the beginning.

My mother's pain was his weapon.

My brother's imprisonment was his leverage.

And I was just a pawn in his game.

My father's men arrived quickly and moved my mother to safety.

I left the sanctuary, dragging my battered body back to the place I once called home.

In the living room, I sat at the table and wrote out a document with a trembling hand.

A Mate Bond Severance Agreement.

Two copies, with clear terms and a binding curse.

Just as I finished the last word, I heard footsteps behind me.

"Sandra?"

Byron's voice.

"What are you writing?"

I didn't turn around.

I didn't even grant him a single glance.

"Our ending," I said, my voice completely flat.

His footsteps got closer. And then he saw me.

The moment his eyes landed on my injuries, all the color drained from his face.

He rushed toward me, reaching for my leg, but his hand trembled violently in mid-air.

"Your leg... your injuries... Who?! Who did this?! I told them to protect you!" His voice was a raw, strangled sound, a mix of pure fury and agony. A wildfire ignited in his golden eyes.

I watched him, my own eyes cold and empty.

What a brilliant performance. The perfect picture of a devastated mate, finding out too late.

He probably thought he could fool me.

But he didn't know. I'd heard the order from his own lips. The one that threw me into hell.

Playing the part of the devoted mate now? It just made me sick.

"You don't know?" I asked, my voice calm.

"Know what?" he roared, losing every ounce of his Alpha composure. "Who hurt you? Tell me! I swear I'll make them pay—"

"You did," I cut him off. "You hurt me."

Byron froze, his face a mask of confusion and disbelief.

"Me? Sandra, what are you talking about? How could I..."

"Three days ago, you handed me over to those rogues." My voice was a dead, emotionless thing, like I was reciting facts about a stranger. "You told them to 'watch' me."

"I told them to keep you safe! To stop you from doing something stupid!" He shook his head in agony, and a terrible realization seemed to dawn on him. His face turned to stone, his features contorting with a rage born of betrayal. "It was Ariana..."

"The marks from the silver whip." I ignored his excuse, gesturing to my back. "The broken leg. Three days with no food, no water."

I forced myself to stand, pain shooting through my shattered bone.

"And everything Ariana told me herself. About our pup. About my mother's curse. And about how you knew. How you were in on it from the start."

Every word was a hammer blow, striking him over and over.

He just stood there, stunned into silence. Any excuse he had died in his throat.

He looked at me, his eyes pleading. "Sandra, I was wrong... I was so wrong... But please, just give me one more chance. Tomorrow... after the ceremony, it will all be over. I'll fix everything. I'll heal you, I'll get Liam out. We can start over. Please?"

Start over.

As if none of this had ever happened.

I sat back down and pushed the papers across the table toward him.

"Sign this."

Byron frowned, picking up the document.

When he read the words—Mate Bond Dissolution Agreement—a violent tremor ran through his body, as if a silver knife had just been plunged into his chest.

The blood drained from his handsome face.

He looked up, his eyes shattered and begging.

"No... Sandra, you can't," his voice was a raw, broken whisper. "We're mates... a gift from the Goddess... You can't just give up on us."

"You gave up first," I said calmly. "Sign it. It's my only condition for playing my part in your ceremony."

"It's just a piece of paper!" he snarled, his voice thick with pain as he waved the agreement. "It can't change our bond! Nothing can!"

"Then sign it and prove how confident you are," I said, my voice like ice. "If it's so meaningless, what are you afraid of?"

My words shattered his last defense.

Afraid.

Yes, he was afraid.

Byron stared at me for a long moment, the light in his eyes dying out, leaving nothing but ash.

"Fine," he bit out, the word torn from his throat. "If... if this makes you feel better... if this is what you want... I'll sign."

He pulled a pen from his jacket, but his hand was shaking so badly he fumbled with the cap.

He didn't even read the terms. His eyes were locked on the signature line.

He signed his name, every letter looking like it was carved from his own flesh.

"Happy now?" He pushed the agreement back to me, his movements stiff, his voice hollow and dead. "Can you prepare for the ceremony now?"

Just then, his communicator buzzed.

He flinched as if startled from a nightmare and answered it quickly. "What? Now? Fine, I'm on my way."

He ended the call and gave me one last, deep look, his expression impossible to read.

"The ceremony is at eight tomorrow morning. I'll be waiting for you, Sandra."

Then he strode out of the room, his back carrying a new kind of weight. The weight of defeat.

I waited until his footsteps were completely gone before I moved.

First, I made three copies of the agreement. I left one on the table and put two in my suitcase.

Then, I started packing.

Not much. Just a few changes of clothes and some important documents.

And the silver necklace my mother gave me, the only memento I couldn't bear to throw away.

Twenty minutes later, a black car pulled up to the back door of the house.

My father's men.

I dragged my suitcase out the door, taking one last look at the place I once called home.

Three years of mating. Three years of trust. Three years of love.

All of it was a lie.

"Ma'am, we should go," the driver said softly.

I nodded and got into the car.

The engine started, and the car pulled away from the Blackwood territory.

Sitting in the back seat, I closed my eyes. I reached for the toxic, frayed thread of our bond... and with one final act of will, I severed it myself.

For the first time in three years, I was truly free.

The cold, sharp freedom of revenge.

At the Blood Moon ceremony tomorrow, Byron and Ariana were about to receive the first of many "gifts" I had prepared for them.