Severing the Bond: The Alpha's Biggest Mistake

The Shattered Luna

The scent of silver was a slow, agonizing poison.

To a human, silver is merely a precious metal. But to a werewolf, it is an absolute destroyer. For years, I had been unknowingly ingesting silver ash. Now, I could feel it coursing through my veins like millions of microscopic shards of shattered glass. My healing abilities were irreversibly shattered.

But as I lay curled on the freezing hardwood floor, gasping for breath, the physical agony of my rotting insides was absolutely nothing compared to the emotional torture of my mate bond.

Through the ethereal link humming in my mind, a sickening wave of overwhelming joy washed over me. But that joy was not for me. It was for the pup currently drawing its first breaths in the lavish maternity suite down the hall—a pup born from another she-wolf's womb.

The heavy mahogany door to my bedroom swung open with a violent crash.

Gareth marched in, radiating the raw, oppressive power of a Pack Alpha. He didn't look at me with the concern of a mate; he looked at me with pure disdain.

"Silver poisoning? Your wolf's healing is failing?" Gareth scoffed, his deep voice dripping with mockery. He grabbed my arm and hauled me up off the floor. "Ivy, if you're going to lie for attention, at least make it believable. You're just throwing a tantrum because you're no longer the center of attention."

Before the words could form to tell him I was dying, his oppressive Alpha aura crashed down on me, forcing the air from my lungs.

"Lily has given birth," he snarled. "Tomorrow is the pup's presentation ceremony at the Full Moon Banquet. You will attend, and you will play the magnanimous, supportive Luna. Do you understand me?"

Ten years ago, I threw myself in front of him, taking lethal claws straight into my abdomen to save his life, losing my ability to ever bear pups. Now, he had discarded me like trash for the sake of an heir.

As I lay there, feeling his immense satisfaction over his new mistress flowing through the mate bond, the last shred of love I had for him withered and died.

I refused to die tethered to a man who disgusted me. Tomorrow, at the banquet, I would make my final stand.

___

POV: Ivy

The scent of silver was a slow, agonizing poison.

To a human, silver is merely a precious metal, cold and beautiful. But to our kind—to a werewolf—it is an absolute, cellular-level destroyer. For years, I had been unknowingly ingesting silver ash, ground so fine it was virtually undetectable when masked by the heavy spices of the Pack House meals. Combined with traces of wolfsbane, it had systematically dismantled my immune system.

Now, I could feel it coursing through my veins like millions of microscopic shards of shattered glass. Every beat of my heart pushed the toxic sludge further into my organs, tearing at the very fabric of my biology. My inner wolf, once a proud, vibrant spirit that used to run freely through the lush pine forests of our territory, was now reduced to a sickly, emaciated shadow, whimpering in the darkest corners of my mind. My healing abilities—the hallmark of a strong werewolf—were completely, irreversibly shattered.

But as I lay curled on the freezing hardwood floor of my bedroom, gasping for breath that felt like inhaling pure fire, I realized something far more tragic. The physical agony of my rotting insides was absolutely nothing compared to the mental and emotional torture of my mate bond.

The mate bond. The sacred tether forged by the Moon Goddess herself, designed to unite two halves of a soul into an unbreakable whole. It was supposed to be a source of infinite warmth, strength, and unconditional love. Instead, it had become my personal, inescapable hell.

Because the bond was a two-way street, I could feel everything he felt.

Through the ethereal link humming in my mind, a sickening wave of overwhelming joy washed over me. It was a profound, chest-swelling pride, a deep-seated satisfaction of an Alpha who had just secured his legacy. But that joy was not for me. It was for the pup currently drawing its first breaths in the lavish maternity suite down the hall—a pup born from another she-wolf's womb.

I squeezed my eyes shut, digging my nails into the floorboards until my cuticles bled. I could feel the phantom warmth of his large, calloused hand as he stroked the newborn's cheek. I could feel the rush of adoration he felt as he looked at her—Lily, the omega he had chosen to be his surrogate. Every emotion he experienced was transmitted directly into my broken soul, twisting the knife deeper.

The heavy mahogany door to my bedroom swung open with a violent crash, jolting me from my misery.

Gareth marched in. He was a striking man, tall and broad-shouldered, radiating the raw, oppressive power of a Pack Alpha. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and his sharp, aristocratic features were set in a deep scowl. He didn't look at me with the concern of a mate; he looked at me with the pure disdain one might reserve for a pathetic, dying animal.

"Silver poisoning? Your wolf's healing is failing?" Gareth scoffed, his deep voice dripping with mockery. He crossed the room in three long strides, grabbing my arm and hauling me up off the floor. I hissed in pain as his grip bruised my fragile skin. He shoved my hand away in disgust.

"Ivy, if you're going to lie for attention, at least make it believable," he sneered, towering over me. "How could any silver possibly touch you inside the heavily guarded walls of my Pack House? You're just throwing a tantrum because you're no longer the center of attention."

I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him that I was dying, but before the words could form, his oppressive Alpha aura crashed down on me. The sheer, gravitational weight of his dominance forced the air from my lungs. My knees buckled, and I was slammed back against the wall, sliding down until I hit the floor again.

"Lily has given birth," he snarled, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. His eyes flashed with the glowing amber of his wolf. "Tomorrow is the pup's presentation ceremony at the Full Moon Banquet. All the allied Alphas and high-ranking warriors will be there. You will attend, and you will sit by my side, and you will play the magnanimous, supportive Luna. Do you understand me?"

I tasted the metallic tang of copper in the back of my throat. I couldn't even form a coherent sentence.

Just then, the sharp clack-clack of heels echoed in the corridor. Madam Elara, Gareth's mother and the Former Luna of the pack, strutted into the room. In her arms, she held a bundle of expensive silk blankets. The bundle reeked of an unfamiliar, musky scent—the smell of amniotic fluid and a bloodline that made my wolf's hackles raise in instinctual rejection.

"You barren omega!" Madam Elara spat, her face twisting into an ugly sneer as she looked down at me. "If you can't give my son a strong heir to secure the future of this pack, you have absolutely no right to complain when he finds a capable she-wolf who can!"

She adjusted the baby in her arms, looking at Gareth with immense pride. "Gareth is doing this for the survival of the pack! Who do you think you are, throwing a tantrum like this? Did you really think an Alpha of his stature would let his bloodline die out just because your womb is useless?"

A second later, Lily appeared in the doorway. Even after just giving birth, she had managed to make herself look like a fragile, tragic heroine. She leaned heavily against the doorframe, clutching a lace handkerchief. Her signature perfume—a sickeningly sweet, overpowering floral scent—flooded the room, masking the faint smell of blood.

"Oh, Alpha..." Lily whispered, her voice trembling perfectly. "If the Luna hates us so much, if she truly cannot tolerate the sight of us... I'll just pack my things. I'll take my poor baby and leave the territory. We'll go to the rogue lands. Even if we're torn apart by feral wolves, I could never bear to make things difficult for you."

It was a masterful performance. And Gareth, blinded by his desperate need to be the protector, fell for it completely.

He immediately abandoned me, rushing to Lily's side and shielding her with his massive frame. When he turned his head to look back at me, his eyes were devoid of any warmth. There was only icy rage.

Smack.

He crossed the distance and slapped me. The force of the blow from a fully grown Alpha sent the room spinning violently. I crashed into a heavy wooden nightstand, the corner gouging into my ribs.

"Keep your mouth shut, Ivy," Gareth commanded, his voice lethal. He reached down and grabbed the silver chain around my neck. With a violent yank, he snapped the chain, ripping the Luna's Seal—the ancient pendant that denoted absolute authority over the pack's resources and inner workings—from my throat. The jagged metal scratched my collarbone, drawing a bead of dark blood.

He turned his back on me and walked over to Lily, gently placing the heavy silver pendant into her delicate hands.

"From today onward, the pack's premium resources, the healing herbs, and the finest meats will be prioritized for Lily and my heir," Gareth announced to the room, though the words were meant as a blade for my heart. He looked back at me one last time. "You will stay in this room and reflect on your jealousy."

The heavy mahogany door was slammed shut, the locking mechanism clicking loudly.

I was left alone in the encroaching darkness of the room. I curled into a tight ball on the freezing floor, my fingers desperately digging into the gaps of the wooden planks. The silver ash in my system flared up again, triggering a violent fit of coughing. I hacked until my throat tore, spitting a mouthful of black, foul-smelling blood onto the pristine floorboards.

Ten years ago. Ten long, agonizing years ago, this territory was ambushed by a massive pack of frenzied rogues. Gareth, young and arrogant, had been cornered. I hadn't hesitated. I threw myself in front of him, taking the lethal, dark-magic-laced claws of the rogue Alpha straight into my abdomen. I survived, but the dark magic destroyed my reproductive organs. I lost my ability to ever bear pups.

I remember Gareth kneeling by my hospital bed, his hands covered in my blood, weeping openly. He had looked up at the full moon through the window and sworn a sacred oath to the Goddess: I will never betray you, Ivy. You are my life.

Now, he had discarded me like trash for the sake of an heir, trampling my dignity into the mud.

As I lay there, feeling his immense satisfaction and relief over Lily flowing through the mate bond, the last shred of love I had for him withered and died. It turned to ash, blowing away in the cold wind of my realization.

I was going to die tonight anyway. The silver had reached my heart.

But I refused to die as his Luna. I refused to die tethered to a man who disgusted me.

Tomorrow, at the Full Moon Banquet, in front of everyone, I would make my final stand.

The Severing

POV: Ivy

The morning sun felt unnaturally cold against my pale skin.

Two maids, both fiercely loyal to Madam Elara, unlocked my bedroom door just before noon. They didn't speak a word to me, their eyes filled with thinly veiled contempt as they hauled me off the floor. I was a ragdoll in their hands. They scrubbed the dried black blood from my chin and forced me into a stunning, midnight-blue evening gown.

The dress was a torture device. It was laced so tightly around my ribcage that I could barely draw a breath, the stiff corset digging into the rotting, silver-infected bruises along my torso. They applied thick layers of foundation to my face to hide the deathly pallor of my skin, painting my lips a vibrant crimson. I looked like a beautiful, perfectly preserved corpse.

"The Alpha expects you to smile, Luna," one of the maids sneered as she pinned my hair up. "Don't ruin the young master's big day."

By the time they dragged me down the grand staircase and into the Pack House's main banquet hall, the festivities were already in full swing. The hall was a masterpiece of rustic werewolf architecture—massive vaulted ceilings, enormous crystal chandeliers casting warm, golden light, and long oak tables groaning under the weight of roasted meats and fine wines.

The room was packed. Allied Alphas from neighboring territories, wealthy pack benefactors, and our own high-ranking Beta and Gamma warriors were all dressed to the nines, laughing and exchanging political pleasantries. At the front of the room, on a raised dais, stood Gareth. He was dressed in a meticulously tailored charcoal suit, holding a flute of champagne, soaking in the endless stream of congratulations and flattery.

Lily sat beside him in a plush armchair, wearing a white, angelic gown, holding the swaddled pup. Madam Elara stood guard behind her, beaming with pride.

I was shoved into a chair at the edge of the dais. The invisible mate bond pulsed in my head, transmitting Gareth's intoxicating mix of arrogance and triumph. He didn't even look at me.

Just as the atmosphere reached its crescendo, and Gareth raised his glass to make his official toast to his new heir, the heavy, iron-reinforced oak doors of the grand hall exploded open with a deafening BANG.

The music screeched to a halt. The laughter died instantly.

Two towering figures stepped through the threshold. They wore long, pitch-black leather trench coats, the silver crescent-moon insignia of the Werewolf Council gleaming on their lapels. Their faces were carved from stone, their auras thick and suffocating. These were the Enforcers—the absolute law of the werewolf world, answering only to the ancient Elders and the Royal Lycan Court.

The crowd parted like the red sea as the Enforcers marched down the center aisle, their heavy combat boots striking the marble floor in perfect unison.

The lead Enforcer stopped at the base of the dais, his icy gaze locking directly onto Gareth. From inside his coat, he withdrew a thick parchment scroll sealed with the crimson wax stamp of the Council.

"Alpha Gareth of the Bloodmoon Pack," the Enforcer's voice boomed, amplified by his wolf, echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "We have received an official, highly urgent petition from Madam Ivy. She has formally submitted a request for the unilateral severance of the mate bond, effective immediately. By the authority of the Council, you are ordered to comply and sign this decree of rejection."

A collective gasp ripped through the hall. Whispers erupted like wildfire among the allied Alphas and pack members.

A unilateral rejection? It was unheard of. Wolves mated for life. To willingly snap a mate bond was akin to taking a serrated knife and sawing your own soul in half. The physical and psychological backlash was known to drive wolves insane, if not kill them outright. For a Luna to publicly request this in front of the entire allied network was the ultimate, unforgivable humiliation for an Alpha.

Gareth’s face went from a flush of triumph to a sickly, pale white, then rapidly darkened into a furious, murderous purple. The veins in his neck bulged, throbbing with the rapid beating of his heart.

He wasn't concerned for my safety. He wasn't worried that the rejection might kill me. He was purely, exclusively enraged that I had dared to strip him of his Alpha pride in front of the people he wanted to impress.

He practically leaped off the dais, storming toward me and grabbing my wrist with bone-crushing force.

"Ivy, have you completely lost your mind?!" he hissed venomously, his amber eyes glowing with unrestrained fury. "You want to humiliate me in front of the entire alliance? Over a pup? Do you really think I won't just strip you of your title and banish you to the wastelands right now?!"

Cold sweat trickled down my spine, my internal organs screaming as the silver flared in response to his aggression. But I didn't look away. I met his furious gaze with absolute, chilling calm.

"I am already dying, Gareth," I whispered, my voice hoarse but steady. "I don't care if you banish me. I don't care about the Luna title. I just want you out of my head. Sign the paper."

Madam Elara, sensing the political disaster unfolding, immediately threw herself onto the floor, wailing dramatically. "Look at this! Everyone, look at this vicious, spiteful woman! She is completely barren! She cannot give my son an heir, yet she throws a tantrum and tries to destroy our pack's reputation on the happiest day of our lives! She wants our bloodline to go extinct!"

The murmurs in the crowd shifted. Sympathy for the "wronged" Alpha began to ripple through the room.

Lily, always the masterful actress, saw her opening. She handed the baby to a maid and collapsed to her knees right in front of my chair. She grabbed the hem of my midnight-blue dress, her shoulders shaking with violent, theatrical sobs.

"Luna Ivy, please! It's all my fault! Blame me, punish me, but please don't be angry with the Alpha!" she cried, her voice echoing perfectly in the silent hall. "I'll give up everything! I'll be your servant! I'll be an unranked omega and scrub the floors for the rest of my life! Just please, don't tear this beautiful family apart!"

Her pathetic, self-sacrificing display was the spark that ignited Gareth's powder keg.

Blinded by his protective instinct over his "fragile" mistress, Gareth's rage erupted into a physical shockwave. His eyes bled into a deep, feral crimson. His canines elongated, tearing through his bottom lip. He let out a deafening, chest-rattling roar that shook the crystal chandeliers.

He unleashed the full, unrestrained power of the Alpha Command directly at me.

"KNEEL!" Gareth roared. "Get on your knees and apologize to Lily right now! Or I swear to the Goddess, you will not leave this room alive!"

The Alpha Command is not a request; it is a biological imperative forced upon lower-ranking wolves. The sheer, gravitational pressure of his command slammed into my fragile, silver-poisoned body like a freight train.

My spine bowed violently. My muscles spasmed, betraying my willpower. With a sickening CRACK, both of my knees slammed down onto the unforgiving marble floor. The impact shattered my kneecaps.

The immense pressure of the aura acted as a catalyst for the silver ash in my bloodstream. It breached the final defenses of my organs. I gagged, my mouth filling with a torrent of putrid, black, toxic blood. It poured from my lips, from my nose, staining my beautiful dress and pooling on the pristine white marble.

Deep within the recesses of my mind, my wolf let out one final, agonizing, ear-piercing howl of despair, before collapsing into the dark.

Gareth stood over me, looking down at my bleeding, broken form. He didn't pull back his aura. He sneered, his lip curling in utter disgust.

"Still faking it?" he mocked loudly for the crowd to hear. "You want to reject me so badly? Fine! Do it! Sign the damn decree in front of the whole pack and rot!"

My vision was tunneling, fading to black at the edges. My lungs refused to take in air. But fueled by pure, unadulterated hatred, I forced my trembling hand upward.

I brought my right index finger to my mouth and bit down hard, tearing the flesh until warm crimson blood welled up. Using the last ounce of life force I possessed, I reached out to the parchment the Enforcer held out.

I pressed my bloody fingerprint firmly onto the signature line.

I slowly raised my head. Blood dripped from my chin, painting my teeth red as I forced a ghastly, chilling smile.

"My ten-year debt to you... is finally paid in full," I choked out, the words gurgling in my ruined throat.

The moment the blood sealed the decree, the magic of the bond reacted.

SNAP.

It wasn't a sound, but a physical sensation—a violent, cataclysmic tearing right down the center of my soul. The mental bridge connecting my mind to Gareth's was violently detonated.

The agony was absolute. My eyes rolled back into my head. The world tilted, and I collapsed sideways, my cheek hitting the cold puddle of my own black blood.

The last thing I heard before my heart gave out completely was the sound of a wine glass shattering on the floor.

Then, nothing but silence.

The Scent of Betrayal

POV: Gareth

The absolute silence in my head was deafening.

For ten years, there had always been a hum at the back of my mind. A gentle, persistent warmth that pulsed with Ivy’s heartbeat. When she was happy, it felt like sunshine. When she was sad, it was a dull ache. Even over the last few months, as we grew distant and she locked herself away, the bond had always been there—a sturdy, unyielding tether assuring me that my mate was mine.

Now, there was a gaping, terrifying void. It felt as if a massive, jagged chunk of my own brain had been surgically scooped out without anesthesia.

The grand hall erupted into absolute chaos. Alphas were shouting, omegas were screaming, and the Enforcers simply rolled up the bloody decree and stepped back, their job complete.

I stood frozen, staring down at Ivy’s crumpled body. The pool of black blood spreading across the white marble looked unnatural. Wrong.

"Ivy?" I commanded, my voice cracking slightly. I nudged her limp shoulder with the tip of my expensive leather shoe. "Ivy, enough. Stop acting! The paper is signed, you made your point. Get up!"

She didn't move. Her chest wasn't rising. Her eyes were half-open, staring blankly at the chandelier above, the brilliant golden light reflecting off dull, lifeless pupils.

Panic, cold and sharp, finally pierced through the fog of my Alpha pride.

"Doctor! Get the pack doctor right now!" I roared, my voice breaking into a frantic growl.

The elderly pack physician scrambled through the crowd, his medical bag clutched tightly to his chest. He dropped to his knees beside Ivy, his hands trembling as he pressed two fingers firmly against her carotid artery. He leaned his ear close to her mouth, waiting.

Seconds ticked by like hours. The doctor’s face drained of all color, turning a sickly, ashen gray. He slowly pulled his hand back, looking up at me with wide, terrified eyes.

"Alpha..." the doctor stammered, his voice barely a whisper, yet it echoed in the silence of the room. "The... the Luna is gone."

"What did you say?" I stepped forward, grabbing the old man by the collar of his shirt and hauling him into the air. "What the fuck did you just say to me?!"

"She's dead, Alpha!" the doctor cried out, tears welling in his eyes. "Her internal organs... they are completely dissolved! It looks like severe, long-term silver ash erosion. Her wolf's healing factor has been dead for months. And the sudden, violent backlash of the snapped mate bond... it was the final blow. Her heart has stopped."

Dead?

The word didn't compute. Werewolves didn't just die from illnesses. We were apex predators. We healed. Ivy had taken a rogue's dark-magic claws through the stomach ten years ago and survived. She couldn't be dead from some phantom silver.

"Get out of the way!" I shoved the doctor aside, dropping to my knees. The wet, sticky sound of my trousers soaking up her black blood sent a shiver of horror down my spine.

I grabbed her shoulders, pulling her freezing, stiffening body into my arms. "Ivy! Wake up! I command you to wake up!"

I closed my eyes, desperately trying to summon my Alpha energy. I forced my raw, golden aura out through my palms, trying to push the healing energy directly into her chest, trying to jumpstart her heart. "I take it back! Do you hear me? I take it back! You don't have to kneel! You can have the Luna's Seal back, just open your eyes!"

I pushed and pushed until my own energy reserves began to burn, but it was like pouring water into a bottomless black hole. There was no bond to receive it. The soul connection was severed. The energy just dissipated into the cold air.

She was truly gone.

My hands began to shake violently. A primordial, suffocating terror gripped my throat. I had wanted an heir. I had wanted Lily to give me a strong son. But I had never, not for a single fraction of a second, ever truly intended to let Ivy die. She was my mate. She was my foundation.

From behind me, the soft rustle of silk approached. Lily crept closer, dabbing at her perfectly dry eyes with her lace handkerchief.

"Oh, Alpha Gareth..." Lily whimpered, placing a gentle hand on my tense shoulder. "Please, you must stay strong. The Luna... she must have been so deeply ashamed of her inability to provide for the pack. She must have taken poison to end her own suffering so she wouldn't hold you back anymore. Please, think of our new pup... you have to let her go."

Poison?

The word echoed in my mind. The doctor had mentioned silver ash.

Slowly, the intense grief blanketing my senses gave way to the predatory instincts of my inner wolf. My pupils dilated, my sense of smell heightening exponentially as adrenaline flooded my system.

I looked down at the black blood staining Ivy's lips and my own hands. I leaned in closely, drawing in a deep, sharp breath.

The pungent, metallic, burning tang of pure silver assaulted my nasal passages, making my wolf recoil. But beneath that overwhelming metallic stench, woven deeply into the chemical composition of the black blood, was something else.

It was a scent I knew intimately. A sickeningly sweet, heavy floral fragrance. Extracted from the rare night-blooming jasmine of the southern territories.

It was Lily's signature, custom-made perfume. The exact same perfume she wore every single day. The exact same scent that was currently wafting off her wrist as her hand rested on my shoulder.

My blood froze in my veins. The sorrow vanished, instantly replaced by a blinding, apocalyptic rage.

I slowly turned my head, looking up at Lily. My eyes were no longer amber; they were glowing with the toxic, neon green of a wolf on the verge of going feral.

"Alpha...?" Lily took a step back, her fake tears faltering as she saw my expression. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

I didn't answer her. I moved faster than the human eye could track. I bypassed her completely and lunged into the crowd, my hand shooting out like a vice to wrap around the throat of Lily's personal maid. I lifted the shrieking girl off the floor, my feral aura crushing the breath from her lungs.

"Speak," I growled, my voice a demonic, dual-layered rumble. "Where did the silver come from? Tell me the truth, or I will rip your head from your shoulders right here."

The maid kicked her legs frantically, her eyes bulging. She looked at Lily, then back at me, the sheer terror of an Alpha's wrath breaking her instantly.

"It was Lily!" the maid shrieked, sobbing hysterically. "It was Lily! She paid me! She gave me packets of crushed silver ash laced with wolfsbane! She told me to mix it into the Luna's teas and meals every single day for the past two years! She said if the Luna died, she would become the official Luna! I didn't want to, she forced me!"

The entire hall fell into a deathly, horrified silence.

I dropped the maid. I turned to face Lily, who was now trembling so violently she looked like she might collapse. Her angelic mask had completely shattered, leaving only the terrified face of a murderer.

"You poisoned my mate?" I roared, the sound tearing from my throat like a physical weapon.

I raised my hand and delivered a backhand strike with all the enhanced strength of a high-tier warrior. The impact was devastating. Lily was launched off her feet, flying backward through the air. She crashed hard into a thick marble column, her body crumpling to the floor like a broken doll. She spat out a mouthful of blood and two shattered teeth.

My mother, Madam Elara, screamed in horror. "Gareth! Have you lost your mind?! She just gave you an heir! Are you going to kill the mother of your child over a dead, barren woman?!"

Before I could take another step toward Lily to finish the job, the heavy oak doors opened again. A frantic pack guard sprinted into the hall, waving a sealed medical folder.

"Alpha! The expedited bloodline test results from the central hospital! The pup's genetics report is here!"

I snatched the folder from his trembling hands, ripping the seal open. I scanned the medical jargon, my eyes hunting for the conclusion at the bottom of the page.

When I read the final paragraph, the world stopped spinning. It felt as if someone had plunged a dagger of pure ice directly into my heart.

Paternity Match: 0%. The infant possesses no genetic markers linked to the Alpha bloodline. Furthermore, genetic screening indicates the infant is the product of rogue interbreeding, resulting in a severe, terminal genetic mutation. The subject has an estimated life expectancy of fewer than three years.

It was a lie. All of it.

The pup wasn't mine. It was a dying, rogue bastard. Lily’s entire pregnancy, her sweet words, her devotion—it was nothing but a masterfully orchestrated scam to infiltrate the pack, murder my true mate, and steal the protection and wealth of the territory.

I had thrown away my soulmate, tortured her, and watched her die on the floor, all for a diseased rogue's bastard.

The realization shattered the last of my sanity. I let out a harrowing, grief-stricken howl of absolute agony. I dropped the papers, transforming halfway into my wolf form, my claws extending as I lunged at Lily, wrapping my hands around her throat to choke the life out of her.

But before I could snap her neck, a sound froze every single person in the room.

From the hallway leading to the Pack House morgue—where the doctor had just ordered Ivy's body to be temporarily moved—came a terrifying, stomach-churning sound.

CRACK. SNAP. CRUNCH.

It sounded like heavy bones breaking and rapidly restructuring themselves.

And then, an aura descended upon the Pack House. It wasn't the aura of an Alpha. It was something ancient, overwhelmingly dense, and utterly terrifying. It bypassed the physical senses and pressed directly onto the soul.

The massive iron doors of the morgue groaned under an invisible pressure.