Bound In Fire And Fury,Love Never Arrives Late

The scent of burning wood and herbs filled the cottage, wrapping around Dorian like a warm embrace. Beatrice sat across from him, her fingers lightly tracing circles on his wrist, her smile soft and satisfied. The flickering firelight cast shadows on her face, making her seem almost ethereal, almost perfect.

But something was wrong.

It started as a dull ache in his chest, an unsettling shift in his gut. A feeling of loss, of emptiness, as if something inside him was snapping, tearing away piece by piece. His wolf stirred uneasily, growling low in his mind.

“Beatrice,” he muttered, rubbing his sternum. “Something’s wrong. The bond… it feels—”

“You’re just overthinking it,” she interrupted smoothly. Her nails skimmed over his skin, trying to soothe him. “She knows we’ve won, Dorian. She’s just accepting her fate.”

She lifted her phone for a brief second, just enough for him to glimpse the screen before tucking it away.

His stomach twisted. Something about the way she moved, the way she concealed whatever she had been looking at—it unsettled him.

“She’ll be home soon,” he said, running a hand down his face. “Let’s not—let’s not rush into anything. We can talk to the Beta first, figure out how to—”

“Dorian.” Beatrice’s voice turned sharp. “Why should we wait? She’s out of the picture. The sooner we announce our plans, the better.”

He shook his head, the unease clawing at him. “After she gets home,” he insisted. “That’s final.”

Beatrice huffed but nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But don’t make me wait too long.”

---

Dorian returned home just past midnight. The house was dark. Too dark.

A strange silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating. His fingers twitched on the door handle before he pushed inside.

The first thing he noticed was the emptiness.

The small touches of warmth that Luna Silvia had filled the house with—the candles she loved, the woven blankets draped over the couch, the delicate vases of wildflowers—gone. The walls looked bare. Cold.

His heart pounded as he took the stairs two at a time, rushing into their bedroom.

The closets were empty.

His blood turned to ice.

Not just her things.

The boys’ things.

Their clothes, their blankets, the tiny bassinet she had insisted on keeping by the bed—everything was gone.

A shuddering breath tore through his chest. “No… No, no, no.”

His mind scrambled for an explanation. A trip? A mistake? Maybe she—

He turned sharply and ran out the door, his feet hitting the dirt path toward the midwife’s cottage. He barely knocked before shoving inside, his golden eyes frantic.

“Where is she?” His voice came out ragged.

The midwife, startled, glanced up from the herbs she was grinding. “Alpha? What’s wrong?”

“Silvia,” he choked out. “She’s not home. Where is she?”

The midwife’s expression flickered with something—pity, sadness.

“She left here hours ago,” she admitted carefully. “Said she was heading home.”

Dorian swayed slightly, his wolf clawing inside him. “That’s not possible. She—”

“Oh, wait.” The midwife paused as if remembering something. “She told me to remind you… she left something in your drawer at home. A gift, she said.”

A gift.

Dorian’s legs felt weak as he stumbled back toward the house, his breathing shallow.

The moment he entered, he went straight to the bedroom, to the small drawer in the corner. His hands trembled as he yanked it open.

Inside, resting atop a folded cloth, was an envelope.

His pulse pounded in his ears as he picked it up, unfolding the letter with shaking hands. His eyes scanned the words, his chest tightening with every line.

Thank you for seven years of love—at least, what I believed was love. Maybe it was, once. Maybe it never was…

No.

His hands clenched around the paper, his vision blurring. His pulse roared in his ears as he tore out of the house, his mind a whirlwind of denial and panic. He fumbled for his phone, calling the only person who might know.

Beatrice picked up on the first ring.

“She’s gone,” he rasped. “Do you know where she went?”

Beatrice sighed dramatically. “Dorian, calm down. She probably just—”

“Do you know?” His voice was sharp, desperate.

A pause. Then, “No.”

But she was lying. He could hear it in her tone.

By the time he got back to the house, Beatrice was waiting at the doorstep. She reached for him, but he shoved past her, storming inside.

Something wasn’t right.

He moved blindly, searching, needing to find something—anything. His breath caught when he opened another drawer.

The jewelry box. The one he had given Silvia for their fifth anniversary.

Gone.

Another drawer. A silver locket with their first son’s name engraved on the back.

Gone.

Piece by piece, every gift, every sentimental token he had given her over the years—missing.

His chest rose and fell erratically, his body trembling.

Beatrice laughed lightly. “Why are you acting so surprised? She sold them. To second buyers, too, so don’t even think about getting them back.”

Dorian’s head snapped toward her.

Beatrice faltered at the look in his eyes.

“She sold them?” His voice was eerily quiet.

Beatrice crossed her arms. “Well, yeah. Isn’t that a good thing? She’s cutting ties, just like we wanted.” She reached for him again, her smile turning soft. “Now we can finally—”

“No.”

Beatrice flinched at the sharpness in his tone.

“No, she can’t leave me,” Dorian rasped, his body shaking violently. “She’s my Luna. I get to leave—not her.”

Before Beatrice could respond, his phone rang.

His Beta.

Dorian answered immediately. “Tell me you found her.”

The Beta’s voice was strained. “Alpha… you need to sit down.”

His stomach twisted. “Just say it.”

“She went to the pack witch.” A deep breath. “She cut off her connection to the pack. And she—she took a potion. To sever the mate bond.”

The world blurred.

Dorian roared, the sound ripping through the house as he stumbled backward, his fingers digging into his hair. His vision swam as he bolted upstairs, tearing through the room, searching for something—anything.

Then he saw it.

The letter.

The last thing she had left for him.

His fingers trembled as he read the words. His breathing turned erratic.

And then—

A sharp, searing rip tore through his chest.

His wolf howled in agony, clawing at the bond that had once been strong, once been unbreakable. The pain was unbearable, like claws raking through his soul, tearing him apart from the inside out. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his body convulsing as the mate bond snapped—frayed threads disintegrating into nothingness.

His mind reeled. No. No, no, no.

Then, like a whisper in the void, her voice echoed in his mind.

"Please, Luna. Come home. I promise I’ll do better."

Silence.

Then—

"Nope. Too little, too late. I reject you, Dorian Gray, as my Alpha and my mate."

A final, unbearable tear.

Dorian collapsed to his knees, his body wracked with violent, heart-shattering sobs.