Yet she left as though she hadn't seen me at all.

The way she threw herself in front of the Matriarch's walking staff, shielding Dorian Frostclaw behind her without hesitation, made every comforting word she'd spoken to me moments ago seem utterly laughable.

"Grandmother! The plan was my idea—I did it for the Valeheart Pack! Please don't hurt someone who had no part in this!"

Matriarch Aurelia Valeheart froze, her sharp gaze instinctively cutting toward me.

When she saw the white bandages wrapped around my arm already soaking through with fresh blood, her expression twisted with frustration and disappointment.

"You wretched pup! He was stuck with over a hundred acupuncture needles just yesterday—can you not see all the wounds covering his body?"

Panic and regret flickered through Selene Valeheart's eyes. She started to rush toward me.

But behind her, Dorian Frostclaw collapsed straight to the ground.

In her alarm, she ignored her own injuries and moved to support him, clearly intending to leave.

The Matriarch planted herself firmly in Selene's path.

"You will not leave! You've just given birth—are you trying to kill yourself?"

"Your bonded mate is still in that room! Do you even want this family anymore?"

Hesitation filled Selene's eyes.

"I do! But Dorian was hurt by your staff! I can't just abandon him! Kael... you're watching over him, Grandmother. He'll be fine!"

There was a time when she would have thrown herself in front of danger for me without a second thought.

There was a time when I was never the one she chose to abandon.

I looked at her with hollow calm.

"Grandmother, let her go."

She seemed surprised by my composure.

After all, in the past, I had done anything to keep her from leaving. I had begged, thrown myself at her feet, clawed at my own flesh—cast aside every shred of dignity an Omega could possess.

Her expression grew complicated, as though she wanted to say something. In the end, she simply walked away.

The healer's assistant helped me dress my wounds again.

The pup was soothed back to sleep.

My communication crystal suddenly pulsed with her message.

[I'm sorry. I just didn't want to cause a scene at the Healer's Den—it would damage the Valeheart Pack's reputation.]

[Dorian is still unconscious and needs someone by his side, so I won't be coming over. We'll recover together. Don't worry about us.]

I stared at the glowing words for a long time.

Once, when I learned she'd been injured during a territorial mission, I traveled eleven hours across pack borders, stayed by her side through every examination, never leaving her for a moment.

Back then, she had been so moved she wept, swearing she would never betray me in this lifetime.

Seeing me sigh, the Matriarch snatched the crystal from my hand.

She read the cold words displayed there and let out a bitter scoff.

"That wretched girl! Just wait until she returns—I'll make her answer for this. Kael, don't worry, Grandmother will—"

At that, I suddenly laughed, meeting her gaze with quiet eyes.

"You allowed all of this to happen, didn't you?"

"I no longer care what becomes of her. You promised me before—once this pup was safely born, you would help me obtain my Bond Severance. I hope you intend to keep your word."

Her expression stiffened, guilt heavy in her eyes.

"Grandmother has wronged you."

"I've already tricked her into signing the severance documents. Rest and heal your body. Once her recovery period ends, you may leave."

The Matriarch took the pup into her own care, personally arranging for trusted wolves to watch over him.

I quietly returned to the den I'd lived in before the mating bond, avoiding the gossip that would have followed me otherwise.

But that very night, rumors still spread like wildfire through the territory's elite circles: the Valeheart Pack's heir had defied the Matriarch, risking her post-birth body to protect her Beta lover.

The Valeheart Pack's standing in the territory alliance began to slip. Selene Valeheart was buried under the chaos, scrambling to contain the damage.

Dorian Frostclaw's popular scent-journal account was overrun by outraged pack members. The scandal I had once exposed myself—how he had seduced his brother's bonded mate, only for Selene to suppress it—resurfaced with a vengeance.

The territory was filled with condemnation. If Selene hadn't intervened, his account would have been stripped and he'd have faced severe penalty oaths.

I didn't see her again until seven days later.

The moment she laid eyes on me, disappointment clouded her face.

"Kael Frostclaw, does destroying us like this truly make you happy?"

I blinked, quickly understanding. She had pinned the blame for the spreading rumors squarely on me.

True enough—after all, I once served as a Pack Chronicle Keeper, and my greatest skill was stirring the winds of rumor until they became storms.

Unfortunately, the first time I lost control and exposed her shameful rut-bond with Dorian Frostclaw, she threatened to have me scent-suppressed and cast out from the profession entirely, claiming I had violated pack privacy laws and damaged her standing. The pack council sided with her.

Now finding anyone willing to help me was nearly impossible.

I cast a sidelong glance at her, long past feeling any wounded pride from being falsely accused.

My hands continued wrapping the anniversary offering for Noah—a small bundle of herbs and moon-blessed tokens for his rune-stone.

"You should know that your disgraceful affairs aren't limited to what's already been revealed. If I wanted to expose more, you'd bleed territory and resources far worse than before."

She stood frozen in the doorway for a long while.

Finally, her voice emerged, almost helpless.

"After this, I'll sever things with him completely. But promise me—we'll live properly from now on, yes? Once the pup comes, we'll be a happy family."

During my pregnancy, she had said such things nearly every day.

Yet it never stopped her from remaining tangled with Dorian Frostclaw.

Sometimes she pitied his status as an unacknowledged offspring. Other times she felt sorry that he had no pack to call his own, no family to lean on.

In short, she had ten thousand reasons why she couldn't help being drawn to him, why she had to help him rise through the ranks.

She remained blocking the doorway as though she wouldn't leave until I answered.

Watching her shadow swallow the morning light, I gave a hollow response just to be rid of her.

It wasn't until the next morning, when an uncensored scent-vision recording of my supposed betrayal spread across every territory network, that I understood what she meant by "after this."

Selene Valeheart had released a public proclamation.

In the recording, she wept before the pack councils, her voice breaking as she declared that her own brother-by-bond had discovered me rutting with another during her pregnancy. She claimed I had struck first with false rumors about her to cover my own guilt.

Dorian Frostclaw appeared beside her, his expression heavy with grief. He said he had only tried to counsel me against hurting Selene's feelings, but I had mistaken his concern for a threat to expose my infidelity—and so I had lashed out in revenge.

Every wolf across the territories howled for Selene to sever our bond immediately, to cast out this low-born climber who had clawed his way into the Valeheart Pack through mating alone.

But she put on a mask of devotion.

"No matter what sins Kael commits in this lifetime, I cannot stop loving him."

Watching her false performance, I couldn't hold back. I retched.

Selene heard from outside the den chamber and rushed in.

"What's wrong?"

I frowned, seeing Dorian trailing behind her like a shadow. I shook off her reaching hand.

"Nothing. Just found you revolting, that's all. To protect your rut-partner's crimes, you'd destroy your own mate's reputation without hesitation. Selene Valeheart, your love is truly magnificent."

Her face went pale as bone. Her mouth opened to explain.

But Dorian suddenly dropped to his knees.

"Forgive me, brother. This is all my fault! Sister-mate only used you as a shield because of me. But she's still recovering from the birth—she was afraid you'd be angry and came to explain despite her weakened state. Please don't blame her."

Selene's eyes filled with tender concern for him. She turned an accusing glare on me.

"I came specifically to tell you about this. Those recordings were scent-glamour forgeries I created. When it comes down to it, he shares your blood—sacrificing yourself to help him is only right. I'm helping him because I'm helping you maintain your bloodline ties. Why must you be so aggressive toward him?"

"Besides, you're a scent-suppressed outcast now. Reputation means nothing to you. What outsiders say won't change my feelings—I know it's fake, and that's enough. But he's different. He has no pack, no family to fall back on. He survives by his standing in the chronicle circles. If his image is destroyed, everything falls apart."

Listening to her grand justifications, I felt nothing but disgust.

A scent-suppressed outcast—and whose doing was that?

Back then, she hadn't just forced the pack council to revoke my position. She had spread word through every chronicle keeper's den across the territories: anyone who employed me would be making an enemy of her.

I was turned away from every interview. When I finally found a small private recording den willing to take me, she filed malicious complaints against them.

In the end, all my chronicle-keeping credentials were stripped away. I became a pariah that every wolf in the profession spat upon.

I had no desire to argue with her anymore. In just over half a moon's cycle, I would be completely free.

The Matriarch had promised me that when the time came, she would release the scent-records to prove my innocence. What they thought of me no longer mattered.

I stared at her with an empty expression, let out a long breath, and turned to lie down on the sleeping furs.

"Do as you please. Whatever you want."

She thought I was going to lunge at Dorian Frostclaw the way I used to, claws extended. Her muscles tensed with fear, and she planted herself firmly in front of him as a shield.

But when she saw me simply turn my back and settle onto the bed, all her defensive instincts ground to a halt.

After a long silence, she spoke in a voice thick with disbelief.

"You're... you're not angry?"

My voice came out flat and even.

"Isn't this what you've always wanted? For me to accept him peacefully?"

She relaxed and actually laughed.

"You've finally learned to behave. I knew you weren't truly cold-hearted. I'll make it up to you someday, I promise."

I didn't respond. Even as they left the chamber, I never once looked at her.

Much later, I pressed my hand against my chest where my heart beat steady and unmoved.

So this was what letting go felt like.

Over the following days, she seemed driven by guilt. Every few days she would send gifts to my quarters. When I refused them, she didn't grow frustrated—she simply kept telling me about the wonderful life we would share in the future.

It wasn't until she mentioned the pup's First Moon Feast that her tone turned hesitant.

"Dorian will never be able to publicly claim his own blood-born pup. So I thought... while the little one is still too young to understand, I could let him stand openly as the father during the feast."

"It would give him some closure for his regret. Don't you think?"

My hands didn't pause in their work. I didn't even lift my gaze.

"I told you to do as you please. This pup was never mine. Whatever you choose has nothing to do with me."

Her breath caught. Red crept into her eyes—part hurt, part rising anger—and she snatched away the offerings I had prepared for Noah's memorial.

"Why have you been acting like this lately? Do you understand what it means if he attends? It means the pack will see him as the Valeheart heir-consort. You never would have allowed that before."

I paused, then gave her a bored glance.

"And that's a problem? Two moons ago, when you were helping him through his rut-fever, didn't you say it was a shame you could never give him a proper place at your side?"

I watched her face drain of color until she stood frozen like a statue carved from pale stone.

I took back the memorial items, my emotions so steady it was as if nothing had happened.

She hovered at my ear, babbling explanations—claiming she didn't love him, that she only felt responsible because they had shared a rut-bond. Her sickening words crumbled against my silence.

After that day, she stopped visiting me.

But I often saw Dorian's posts on the pack's message board. He was showing off images of them together—the three of them posing for portrait after portrait in every style imaginable. A perfect little family.

On the day she emerged from her birthing confinement, the entire Valeheart household gathered to celebrate the bastard pup's First Moon Feast.

The Matriarch sent word that my Bond Severance documents would be finalized by tomorrow.

When I returned to collect my belongings, I found that the cozy den we had once shared as mates had been completely transformed to match Dorian's tastes.

Even the portrait that used to hang by the main hearth—the one where I cradled her swollen belly—had been replaced with a new image. Her, Dorian, and the pup. A perfect family portrait.

In that photograph, Selene Valeheart was smiling radiantly.

More beautifully than she had smiled on our mating day.

I went to the sleeping chamber, intending to pack the few garments I had brought before our bond was sealed.

But no matter how thoroughly I searched the storage chests, I couldn't find the hand-stitched ceremonial suit my mother had made for me before she passed.

I was about to call and ask when I saw a new image on the pack message board—Dorian wearing that very suit at the First Moon Feast.

Rage boiled through my veins like molten silver.

I called for a transport and rushed to the feast hall. There he stood, one arm supporting Selene, both of them laughing graciously as pack members showered them with praise and congratulations.

When Selene spotted me, guilt flickered across her face—but beneath it lay a smug satisfaction, as if she had expected this all along.