The self-controlled Alpha he was in front of Freya vanished—replaced by the ravenous wolf he became with Sorenna.
Freya stood frozen as she listened—every sound, every gasp, every muffled moan slicing into her chest like fangs.
It was unbearable. When their lovemaking reached its peak, she fled, unable to endure another second.
What she didn’t witness was Sorenna’s next question, asked in a trembling voice, “Do you love me?”
“If I didn’t, why would I be here with you?” Riven replied, lust still clouding his gaze.
Emboldened, she pressed on coyly, “If you had to choose between me and that old she-wolf… who would you pick?”
“Obviously you,” he said without hesitation.
“Then… divorce her. Become my rightful mate,” Sorenna whispered.
At those words, Riven’s face turned instantly cold. “You’re stepping over the boundary.”
Seeing her fright, he softened again and gathered her into his arms. “You know I barely lay a hand on her anymore. Isn’t that proof enough of how much you mean to me?”
Sorenna cried softly. But affection wasn’t enough. She wanted the Luna crown.
She was tired of lurking in the shadows like a thief.
Her gaze dropped to her flat stomach. One moon day, she would give Riven a reason to cast Freya aside willingly and do the mating ceremony with her.
Meanwhile, Freya wandered aimlessly through the Alpha Council’s labyrinthine halls, not knowing where to go.
Eventually, she pushed open an unused chamber door and stepped inside—the darkness within mirroring the hollow ache consuming her heart.
Tears streamed uncontrollably down Freya’s cheeks. Seeing the truth with her own eyes was far more devastating than any whispered rumor or stolen image.
Ever since she had given birth, her intimacy with Riven had dwindled into near nonexistence.
She once foolishly believed it was because he was protecting her fragile post-shift body after pupbirth.
But now she understood—he had simply been satisfying his wolf elsewhere and no longer bothered to pretend with her.
Her crystal comm-stone vibrated. Another taunting message from Sorenna lit up its surface.
This time, it was a photo of the bathchamber in complete disarray—and a pair of ripped obsidian-silk thigh stockings tossed beside the wolf-mark mirror.
Sorenna’s words followed, [Guess what your Alpha just did? It’s only a necklace. Take it if you want. His heart and everything else are with me now.]