Raven loved documenting her life. She was a moderately popular howl-caller on the pack-net.
On her mark-thread, I discovered a different Kael.
He smiled. He posed for memory-captures. He prepared meals with his own hands.
Nothing like the Kael I knew—the one who did nothing but work himself to exhaustion for pack standing.
It turned out that during our bonding journey, they had already reconnected.
For all ten nights of our mating celebration travels, she had stayed in the den chamber next to ours.
That was her very first pack-net mark.
In the captured image, Kael wore the bonding band I had selected for him myself—silver etched with our intertwined house symbols.
He was holding Raven on the moonlit shore, kissing her.
And in that moment, it finally made sense.
The scarred marking on his left ring finger—the one he had been so desperate to burn away with silver salve.
It was the initial runes of her name.
Like a wolf drawn to her own wounds, I scrolled through all 349 of her posts.
Then I opened her latest update.
A modest waystation den near the healer-territory.
Kael's rumpled clothing and leather belt draped over a carved chair.
That belt. The one I had given him for our first mating anniversary, tooled with protective wards.
Raven had marked beneath the image: "My wolf's hunting skills are impressive. I am well-fed tonight."
I replied to her mark: "That belt belongs to my bonded mate."
I attached the memory-capture of Kael examining that same belt the night I had gifted it.
The howl-stream erupted.
Wolves flooded in from across the territory networks, calling Raven a bond-breaker, a shadow-mate, a disgrace to Omega-kind.
My communication crystal hummed. Healer Elena's voice came through, low and steady as a winter stream.
"Selene. Tomorrow morning, first light. I have secured you the earliest ritual time for the termination."
