Chapter 1

Harper's POV

The weight of a heavy body pressing down on me pulled me from my sleep.

Before I could even open my eyes, the overwhelming scent of cedarwood mixed with strong whiskey filled my lungs.

Lucian. He was drunk again.

His rough hand slid under my silk nightgown, his touch searing against my skin. But there was no love in his grasp—only a raw, desperate hunger that had nothing to do with me.

"Lucian, stop!" I gasped, shoving against his chest. I sat up, clutching the sheets to my chest, my face burning with humiliation.

For three years, this was the only time he came to my room. When he was too intoxicated to remember that he hated me. Or worse... when he was pretending I was someone else.

"What do you think you're doing?" I hissed, my voice trembling. "Why do you only touch me when you can’t see my face? Is it because you’re terrified to admit you’re sleeping with me and not her?"

Bianca. My stepsister. The love of his life.

Just this afternoon, Bianca had sent me a text that felt like a knife to the heart: #Every time Lucian touches you, just remember—he’s imagining me.#

The armor I had built around my heart for three years shattered in an instant.

I loved Lucian. I had loved him since we were children. But I was done being a replacement. I was done being the warm body he used to forget his pain.

Lucian stopped. He sat back on his heels, his emerald eyes cold and glazed over. The desire that had been there seconds ago vanished, replaced by a look of pure disgust.

He stood up abruptly, swaying slightly. "You talk too much."

He turned to leave, dismissing me like I was nothing more than a servant.

Something inside me snapped. The despair that had been drowning me turned into a sudden, blinding rage. I scrambled out of bed and grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"You are not walking away from me tonight, Lucian! Look at me! I am your mate! I have been your wife for three years! Why can't you just accept that?"

The air in the room dropped ten degrees. Lucian slowly turned his head, his gaze darkening dangerously.

He grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to bruise.

"Accept you?" he spat, his voice low and lethal. "If it weren't for your dirty little tricks three years ago, I never would have marked you. Bianca was meant to be my Luna. Not you. Never you."

"I didn't use any tricks!" I cried out, tears stinging my eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you? I was drunk too! I didn't know what happened that night!"

"Lies," he sneered, releasing my face with a shove. "You're a manipulator, Harper. A thief."

"A thief?" I laughed, a broken, hysterical sound. "Fine! Believe what you want. But guess what, Alpha Lucian? No matter how much you hate it, you marked me. The Moon Goddess chose me!"

"The Moon Goddess made a mistake," he growled. "I will never love a thief."

"I don't need your love!" I screamed, my voice cracking. "My love for you dried up a long time ago in this dead marriage!"

That struck a nerve. Lucian’s jaw clenched. He grabbed me by the waist and threw me back onto the bed, looming over me like a predator.

"You don't need my love? Then what do you need? This?"

He didn't give me a chance to answer.

"Lucian, let me go!"

"Why? Didn't you want me to look at you?" His voice was grating, filled with self-loathing. "Fine. Let me take a good look at your shamelessness."

He dragged me to the window and ripped the curtains open. The cold moonlight flooded the room, illuminating our struggle.

He pinned me against the glass, the cold surface biting into my back. His eyes, usually so beautiful, were now storms of anger.

"You wanted to be my mate so badly," he whispered against my ear, his tone mocking. "So be it."

...

An hour later, the room was silent.

Lucian stood up, pulling his clothes back on with mechanical efficiency. He didn't look at me. He never did afterwards.

I sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping the blanket around my shivering body. The physical intimacy hadn't brought us closer; it had only widened the chasm between us.

He was right. What is stolen can never truly belong to you.

I looked at his broad back, the mark of the Alpha clear on his shoulder, and finally, I let go.

"Lucian," I said, my voice eerily calm.

He paused at the door, his hand on the handle.

"Let's break the mate bond."

Lucian froze. He slowly turned around, a frown marring his handsome face. "Break the bond? Is this another one of your games?"

"No game," I said, forcing a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "I'm tired, Lucian. I'll give up the position of Luna. I'll give it to Bianca. That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn't it?"

For a second, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—shock? Confusion? But it was quickly replaced by his usual cold mask.

"Finally," he scoffed. "You finally learned your place."

He opened the door and walked out, slamming it shut behind him.

The sound echoed through the empty room like a gunshot.

I didn't cry. The tears didn't fall from my eyes; they flowed straight into my heart, stinging the open wounds he had left there.

Despite my determination, I couldn't help but think back to three years ago. When I woke up beside him for the first time, seeing the morning sun on his face, I had foolishly believed he was mine.

Tomorrow, I would go see my father. Tomorrow, I would end this.