Something inside me broke along with the medallion.

A low growl built in my chest as my wolf rose to the surface, clawing for control. My vision sharpened, the world taking on the red tinge of rage.

Olivia's smug expression faltered.

A burst of flames—my aura—erupted around me, dancing across my skin in waves of crimson and gold. The power surged through my veins, hot and demanding. My hand flew to my chest where the medallion had rested for two years, where Rex's remains had been kept safe.

Until now.

"Stop," I commanded, my voice barely human. "Just stop."

Olivia took a step back, momentarily startled by the display of power, but her retreat was brief. The flash of fear in her eyes quickly hardened back into contempt.

"What's wrong, warrior?" she sneered, emphasizing the title like it was an insult. "Upset about your little trinket? It's just rubbish now—like your pathetic bond with Ethan."

She kicked at the scattered ashes with her designer heel, grinding what remained of Rex into the dirt.

I closed my eyes, fighting for control. Then I reached for the mate bond—that thin, fragile thread that connected me to Ethan Blackclaw.

*Ethan,* I mind-linked, my mental voice sharp enough to cut glass. *Your presence is required. Now.*

I didn't bother with pleasantries or explanations. He would feel my rage through the bond, weak as it was.

Barely thirty seconds passed before the sound of an engine broke through the tension. A sleek black sports car appeared around the bend, tires screeching as it came to an abrupt halt behind Olivia's wrecked Jeep.

Ethan emerged, his designer boots clicking against the asphalt as he approached. His eyes darted between us, taking in the scene—the wrecked vehicles, Olivia's defiant stance, my barely contained fury, and the scattered ashes at our feet.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, but I noted he directed the question to Olivia, not me.

"Your warrior bitch wrecked my Jeep," Olivia whined, immediately sliding to his side. "And now she's threatening me over some stupid necklace."

I stared at him, waiting. Waiting for him to notice the medallion fragments. Waiting for him to remember what it contained. Waiting for him to be the mate he was supposed to be.

"Ethan," I said, my voice deadly calm. "She destroyed Rex's medallion. The one with his ashes."

He glanced down at the scattered silver pieces, then shrugged—actually shrugged—as if I'd mentioned a broken coffee mug.

"It's just a trinket, Tori," he said dismissively. "I'll buy you another one. Come on, Liv, let's get you home. You look upset."

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close in a gesture that was unmistakably intimate. The blatant display of affection in front of me—his mate—was the final insult.

"Just a trinket?" I repeated, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Rex died saving my life. He was a warrior of this pack. He deserved respect."

"Oh please," Ethan rolled his eyes. "It was just a wolf. You warriors are so dramatic about these things. It's not like you can't get another one."

Olivia smirked at his words, leaning into his embrace. "See? Even Ethan thinks you're overreacting. Maybe if you spent more time being an actual Luna instead of playing soldier, he wouldn't have to come to me."

Ethan didn't contradict her. Instead, he looked at me with something between pity and contempt.

"Look, I know you take this warrior stuff seriously, but it's time you accepted your place. You're my mate on paper, but this"—he gestured between himself and Olivia—"this is real. Always has been."

The flames of my aura intensified, dancing higher as my control slipped further. In that moment, I saw them clearly for what they were—not just unfaithful, but cruel. Disrespectful not only to me but to everything I stood for, everything I had sacrificed.

And I was done sacrificing for someone who saw me as nothing more than a political convenience.

And I was done sacrificing for someone who saw me as nothing more than a political convenience.

The flames of my aura pulsed with my heartbeat, casting crimson shadows across Ethan's face. In that moment, something crystallized within me—a cold, hard certainty that cut through years of duty and obligation.

"I, Victoria Sterling, reject you, Ethan Blackclaw, as my mate."

My voice rang out, clear and strong, carrying the weight of ancient pack law. The words hung in the air between us, heavy with finality.

For a heartbeat, Ethan's eyes widened in genuine shock. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed—a sharp, mocking sound that grated against my ears.

"Reject me?" He shook his head, his arm tightening around Olivia's waist. "You can't reject me. Do you have any idea what my father will do to you?"

Olivia joined in, her laughter high and brittle. "Oh, this is rich! The warrior thinks she has power here." She stepped forward, emboldened by Ethan's reaction. "Sweetie, when this is over, you'll be lucky if they let you stay as an Omega. More likely, you'll be wandering the forests as a rogue with nothing but your precious warrior pride."

"She's right," Ethan added, his initial surprise giving way to calculated cruelty. "My father controls everything in this pack. Your position, your status, even that pathetic SUV you drive—all of it comes from the Blackclaw name. Without us, you're nothing."

I remained silent, letting their threats wash over me like rain. They had no idea who I really was, what connections I truly had. They saw only what they wanted to see—a dutiful mate, a convenient political pawn.

"You think anyone will take your side?" Olivia continued, growing bolder with each word. "Everyone knows you're just the cold warrior bitch who couldn't keep her mate happy. No one will support you."

Ethan nodded, his expression hardening. "I'll make sure you walk away with nothing. No compensation, no status, nothing. That's what happens when you disrespect a Blackclaw."

Their arrogance was almost amusing. Almost.

Without breaking eye contact with Ethan, I reached for a different mental link—one forged not through a mate bond, but through years of shared battles and unwavering loyalty.

*Beta Hayes,* I mind-linked, my mental voice calm and controlled. *I require your presence.*

The response was immediate, firm with concern. *Location?*

I sent him a mental image of where we stood, the wrecked vehicles, the scattered ashes of Rex.

*Three minutes,* came his reply, accompanied by a surge of protective fury that wasn't entirely his own.

I turned my attention back to Ethan and Olivia, who were still listing all the ways they would destroy me. Their voices had become background noise, meaningless threats from people who had no idea what storm they had just provoked.

"Are you even listening?" Ethan demanded, stepping toward me with his finger raised. "I said you'll regret this. My father will—"

"Will what, exactly?" I asked softly, cutting him off. "Please, continue. I'm curious what Alpha Richard will do when he learns the full truth of today's events."

Something in my tone made him hesitate, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. But Olivia, lacking both sense and self-preservation, pushed forward.

"He'll put you in your place, that's what! You're just a—"

The sound of multiple engines approaching silenced her mid-sentence. Three black SUVs identical to my damaged one rounded the bend, followed by two motorcycles. They formed a semicircle around us, effectively blocking the road in both directions.

The drivers emerged in perfect synchronization—five warriors in full ceremonial attire, their expressions grim and focused. And at their center walked Beta Jackson Hayes, his powerful frame radiating authority, his eyes finding mine immediately before shifting to the scattered ashes at my feet.

The change in Ethan was immediate. His posture stiffened, his arrogance faltering as he recognized the insignias on the warriors' uniforms.

"What is this?" he demanded, his voice no longer quite so confident. "You can't just call in enforcers for a private matter!"

Hayes ignored him completely, walking directly to me. He stopped precisely two paces away—close enough to show support, far enough to maintain protocol.

"Warrior Sterling," he said formally, though his eyes conveyed much more. "You requested assistance?"