Chapter 3

The Elder lived at the edge of pack territory, in a stone cottage overgrown with wolfsbane.

When I arrived, she was already at the door, as though she'd been expecting me.

"Luna Selene," she said, her milky eyes scanning me. "Your bond is dying."

I didn't flinch. "I know. I want to finish it."

She studied me for a long moment, then gestured me inside.

"Severing a mate-bond is not like divorce among humans," she said, pouring something dark and steaming into a cup. "It will hurt. Immensely. And once it's done, you can never bond with that Alpha again."

"Good."

The Elder's lips twitched — almost a smile.

"There's something else," she said. "Your wolf is strong. Stronger than you know. The bond has been suppressing her."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, child, that you are no ordinary wolf." She placed the cup in front of me. "But that revelation will come in its own time."

She handed me a small vial of dark liquid.

"Three drops on the mark. It will dissolve the bond within twenty-four hours. But be warned — the Alpha will feel it. And he will come for you."

I tucked the vial into my jacket. "Let him."

When I returned to the pack house, I found a commotion in the courtyard.

Vivienne was on the ground, clutching her ankle. Kael was kneeling beside her, his hands cradling her foot like she was made of glass.

Half the pack had gathered, whispering.

"What happened?" I asked a nearby warrior.

He shifted uncomfortably. "She tripped on the stairs. The Alpha caught her, but she still twisted her ankle."

Kael barked orders for the pack healer. He scooped Vivienne into his arms and carried her inside, not sparing me a single glance.

As he passed, Vivienne's eyes met mine over his shoulder.

And there it was.

The faintest smirk.

Gone so fast I might have imagined it — but I didn't.

I had seen that look before. On every calculating omega who had ever tried to climb the pack hierarchy through an Alpha's bed.

I said nothing.

That evening, the pack banquet preparations were in full swing. Garlands of silver and midnight blue hung across the great hall — the colors of Blood Ridge.

My colors.

They were being used to celebrate another woman.

Kael found me in the kitchen, overseeing the menu.

"Make sure there's no garlic in anything," he said. "Vivienne is sensitive."

I nodded.

He hesitated, then added: "You should wear something nice tomorrow."

"For Vivienne's banquet?"

"For the pack's banquet." His tone carried a warning.

I set down the menu and looked at him directly. "Kael, when was the last time you held a banquet for me?"

His brow furrowed. "That's different."

"How?"

"You're my Luna. You don't need one."

The irony almost made me laugh.

"Right," I said softly. "I don't need anything."

I turned back to the menu, and after a moment, Kael left.

That night, I sat alone in the bathroom, the vial in my hand.

I uncorked it.

The liquid smelled like burnt cedar and iron — like the end of something.

I tilted three drops onto my fingers.

Then I pressed them to the mark on my neck.

The pain hit instantly — blinding, all-consuming, as though someone had pressed a branding iron to my soul.

I bit down on a towel to muffle my scream.

Through the haze, I felt it — the bond between Kael and me, stretched thin as spider silk — snap.

And then — silence.

Beautiful, terrifying silence.

For the first time in a year, my wolf didn't whimper for her mate.

She growled.

And somewhere down the hall, I heard Kael cry out.