A tremor ran through me. Humiliation and pain tangled until breathing became a struggle.
“As long as you agree,” he said, “I’ll ensure your father walks again. If you refuse…”
The rest carved through my chest like a blade.
I lifted my hand to slap him, but he caught my wrist. “Lunessa,” he murmured, almost tender, “don’t make this difficult.”
The man before me was a stranger. The same wolf who once sheltered me was now my captor, weighing my obedience like a verdict.
Disgust. Rage. Revulsion. All of it boiled until only hatred remained—deep and relentless.
I steadied my voice. “Fine. I’ll go. But you’ll secure a den for my father and grandmother to live in.”
I turned to the last page of the supposed den agreement—secretly the unmating parchment—and handed it to him.
Once he placed his mark, our unmating would take effect immediately.
And two days later, I would take what remained of my pack…and leave him forever.
As long as he placed his alpha mark on this parchment, our severe bond would take effect immediately.
And two nights later, under the waning moon, I would finally be able to take my small pack and walk away from him forever.
Relief softened his features. He pressed his mark seal down without hesitation.
“It’s just a small denstead,” he said lightly. “You could’ve asked for it anytime.”
His indifference cut deeper than any fang. My suffering, my fury—none of it mattered to him.
I slipped the marked scroll into my bag. My last fragile hope.
The Moonrise banquet was held in the grandest Howlcrest Hall at the center of the city territory. Moonlit marble gleamed under the enchanted chandeliers and my stomach twisted as I crossed the threshold.
Before entering, Draven leaned close, voice low and warning. “Once we’re inside, don’t speak unless spoken to. The Molthaven wolves dislike loudness.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded. Before I could answer, he had already donned his charming alpha smile and strode ahead, greeting Myrielle’s parents with a raised goblet.
I lifted the hem of my gown and walked alone toward Myrielle’s private moon-lounge.
The moment I pushed open the door, the chamber fell silent. Nearly two dozen she-wolves stared at me.
Myrielle lounged lazily on a velvet couch, her moon-silk dress nearly identical to mine. Her gaze skimmed over me, lips curling in a soft, mocking smile.
“Oh my, what a coincidence,” she purred. “Your dress mirrors mine, Lunessa.”