Selena

"Are you absolutely certain you want to buy the Mate Bond Severing Potion?"

The old witch’s raspy voice cut through the heavy, incense-laden air of the apothecary. She stood behind the worn wooden counter, her gnarled hand pressing down firmly on a small, obsidian-glass vial. The liquid inside was pitch-black, absorbing the dim candlelight rather than reflecting it.

"In fifteen days, the mate bond will be completely severed," the witch continued, her pale, milky eyes locking onto mine, carrying a warning that felt as heavy as a curse. "Your Alpha will suffer the backlash. The soul-tearing will rip his wolf from its anchor. He will lose his True Mate, and the void left behind will drive his wolf to the brink of madness."

I didn’t blink. I reached out, my fingers wrapping around the cold glass of the vial. I pulled the cork free. The stench of rotting nightshade and bitter ash hit my nose, making my Omega instincts recoil in pure revulsion. But I didn't hesitate. I tipped my head back and let the vile liquid slide down my throat.

It burned like swallowing liquid fire. The moment the potion hit my stomach, the invisible, shimmering tether in my chest—the soul-deep bond that tied me to Damian, the Alpha of the Northern Frost Pack—violently snapped taut. A sharp, excruciating pain radiated from my heart, a desperate tug from a tether that was beginning to wither at the roots.

Everyone in the Northern Pack believed Damian was madly in love with me. They whispered about it in the Pack House kitchens and during the moonlit patrols. They talked about how he, a supreme Alpha, defied the Council of Elders for me—an unawakened, weak Omega. They recounted the tales of how he violently rejected every high-ranking she-wolf who tried to claim his bed. They romanticized the night of the Great Blizzard, when he carried me in his arms through thirty miles of waist-deep snow, his own body shielding me from the deadly frost, his wolf purring to keep me warm.

But none of that mattered anymore. Not after last night.

Last night was the full moon. I had gone to the master bedroom in the Pack House, carrying the herbal remedy I painstakingly brewed for him every month to soothe his battle scars. But before I could turn the doorknob, the scent hit me. It wasn't just his rich, intoxicating pine-and-snow scent. There was another smell mixed with it—a harsh, dominant aroma of blood-red roses and smoke. Another she-wolf.

Through the crack in the door, I saw them. Damian had Aurora, the legendary warrior she-wolf of the Eastern Border, pinned against the edge of my bed. His large hands, the same hands that used to cradle my face so gently, were carefully placing the silver Luna's crown—the draft piece meant for me—upon her fiery red hair.

"On the day of the coronation, you will stand by my side," Damian had murmured, his voice a low, rumbling baritone that usually made my toes curl. Now, it just made my blood run cold.

Aurora leaned into his broad chest, her hands tracing the hard lines of his torso. "And what about Selena?" she purred, a smug undertone in her voice.

Damian fell silent. The silence stretched, agonizing and suffocating, before he finally spoke. "She is my mate. But the North needs a Luna who can make all wolves submit. Selena... she cannot lead armies. She cannot survive the political bloodbath. You can."

That was all it took. One sentence to destroy fifteen years of devotion.

I bought a one-way international ticket for fifteen days from now. As the fiery burn of the potion settled into a dull, throbbing ache in my chest, I tossed the empty glass vial into the witch’s roaring hearth.

For these fifteen days, I will watch him play out this sickening farce of deep affection. And when the countdown hits zero, the mate bond he so arrogantly takes for granted will be completely, irrevocably erased from my body.

This time, even if he grovels in the mud and begs until his throat bleeds, I will not look back.

"Selena, open the door. I brought someone back."

Damian’s palm rested against the heavy oak wood of my bedroom door. His familiar Alpha scent—crisp winter air and deep woods—seeped through the cracks, instantly triggering a sharp, agonizing spasm in my chest. The bond was already dying, and his proximity made it writhe in protest.

I carefully tucked my plane ticket into the hidden fold of an old herbal grimoire, then roughly wiped the lingering bitter taste of the potion from my lips. I took a deep, steadying breath, forcing my heart rate to slow.

"Come in."

The door pushed open. Damian’s gaze immediately found mine. He was breathtakingly handsome, as always, with his sharp jawline and piercing icy-blue eyes. His heavy winter coat was draped over his arm, but it was his collar that drew my attention. Pressed deep into the fabric of his shirt was that foreign, aggressive scent of red roses and smoke—the same scent I smelled last night. It was sharp, arrogant, and laced with the feverish heat of illegal heat-inducing suppressants.

Aurora stepped out from behind him. She was clad in her signature crimson combat boots, her heavy footsteps unapologetically crushing the pristine white rug I had hand-woven myself. She didn't just walk into the room; she invaded it.

She raised a hand, casually trailing her fingertips over the framed portrait of our mating ceremony on the wall. Her index finger stopped right over my painted face, tapping the glass lightly. "So, this is your little room," she remarked, her tone dripping with condescension.

Damian crossed the room to stand in front of me, his large arms reaching out to pull me into his embrace. "The borders are unstable right now. Aurora needs to move into the Pack House. Having her here will help me suppress the Eastern Elders and put the pack members' minds at ease."

I didn't flinch. I didn't step back. I let him wrap his arms around me. But the moment his chest pressed against mine, the dying mate bond violently yanked at my heartstrings. The pain was so intense that cold sweat immediately soaked through the back of my dress. Yet, I kept my arms strictly at my sides. I didn't hug him back.

"Whatever you decide," I said, my voice eerily calm, devoid of any warmth.

Damian pulled back slightly, looking down at me, his thick brows knitting together in a deep frown. "You're not happy?"

Aurora let out a low, mocking laugh from across the room. She had strolled over to my vanity and picked up my favorite silver comb, turning it over in her hands like a cheap trinket. "Unawakened Omegas are so easy to pacify. If you tried this with the she-wolves at the border, they would have ripped the roof off this place by now."

Damian turned his head, his tone carrying a mild, almost gentle warning. "Aurora, mind your manners."

She dropped the silver comb back onto the vanity, deliberately placing it half an inch away from its original spot. "Apologies. I'm used to military camps. I haven't learned these soft, fragile little rules."

I stared at the misplaced comb. In the past, my OCD and my territorial Omega instincts would have compelled me to fix it immediately. Today, I didn't even twitch a muscle.

Damian reached down and wrapped his large, warm hand around my wrist. The heat of his skin seeped into mine, but unlike before, the mate bond didn't hum with a comforting vibration. There was no spark. There was only the dark, slithering cold of the witch's potion digging deeper into my veins, eating away at the connection.

He paused, his thumb rubbing over my pulse point. "Why are your hands so cold?"

"I just got back from outside," I replied evenly.

"Where did you go?"

I silently slipped the witch’s receipt deeper into my sleeve. "Just into town."

Behind him, Aurora suddenly turned around. Without warning, she unleashed a wave of her dominant Alpha female aura. The oppressive, suffocating weight of her pheromones crashed down on me. My knees buckled under the sheer force of it. My Omega instincts screamed at me to submit, to bare my neck and cower. But I dug my fingernails into the edge of the wooden table, grounding myself through the physical pain, and forced my spine straight. I refused to bow.

Damian immediately stepped between us, shielding me from her aura. But he wasn't doing it to throw her out. He was just managing a conflict. "Selena hasn't fully awakened yet," he said to Aurora, his voice remarkably calm. "Don't press her."

Aurora reeled her aura back in, a victorious, relaxed smirk playing on her lips. "Ah, my bad. I forgot how fragile she is. She can't handle real pressure."

Damian gently guided me to sit on the edge of the bed, his thumb continuously stroking my wrist bone, as if trying to coax a reaction from my dormant wolf. "I will always recognize you as my True Mate," he whispered, his eyes searching mine for forgiveness.

Aurora leaned against the doorframe, tapping the toe of her boot against the carpet, her presence an inescapable blight on the room. "It's just that a Luna needs to lead troops. She needs to stand on the sacrificial altar and command absolute submission from the entire Pack. Selena, surely you understand that, right?"

I slowly lifted my head and looked Damian right in the eyes.

He didn't contradict her. He didn't defend my honor. He just looked back at me, waiting for my compliance.

In that split second, the bitter, rotting taste of the potion clawed its way up my throat. It was clearer than any humiliation, louder than any rejection.

"I understand," I said softly.

Damian let out a visible sigh of relief. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to my forehead. "Be a good girl. Once the coronation is over, I promise I'll make it up to you. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

"Will you give me the Moonstone necklace too?" I asked, my voice flat.

His movements froze instantly. The air in the room grew heavy.

At the door, Aurora tilted her head, her fiery red curls cascading over her shoulder, a predatory gleam in her eyes.

Damian squeezed my hand, avoiding my gaze. "That is the symbol of the Luna. The Elders are keeping a very close eye on it right now. Let's not talk about that for now."

"Okay," I replied.

After that single word fell from my lips, the room descended into a suffocating silence. Damian seemed unnerved by my absolute obedience. He was used to my soft pout, my gentle complaints, my desperate need for his reassurance. He stared at my face for a long time, trying to read the emotions I had already locked away.

"Are you very tired today?" he asked finally.

"Yes."

Suddenly, Aurora sauntered over to my bedside table and picked up the small, intricately carved porcelain bowl resting there. "What is this? It smells absolutely revolting."

It was the soothing herbal concoction I brewed for Damian before every full moon. It was mixed with drops of my own blood, drawn painstakingly with silver needles. Damian's wolf spirit had suffered severe dark-magic injuries in the past. It was this exact bowl of medicine that had kept him alive and sane for three grueling years.

I reached out to take it back, but Aurora lifted it high above my head, a cruel smirk on her face. "An Alpha needs the blood of a warrior, not the cheap, pathetic parlor tricks of an Omega."

Damian frowned, though his reprimand lacked any real heat. He reached up and took the bowl from her hand. "Stop messing around, Aurora. Selena prepared this for me."

Aurora rolled her eyes dramatically. "Do you really believe this garbage works? No wonder the Elders say you've grown dull, fattened up in a gentle little cradle."

Damian’s expression darkened slightly.

I stood up, walked over to him, and took the bowl from his hands. I turned toward the fireplace. "Since it's useless, I'll just pour it out."

His hand shot out, his strong fingers clamping down hard on my wrist. "Don't be childish, Selena."

I stared at the red marks his fingers were pressing into my pale skin. The severed line in my chest pulsed with another jolt of raw pain. I looked up at him, my eyes empty. "Do you want it?"

Damian slowly released my wrist, his tone softening into a coaxing murmur. "I won't drink it tonight. Aurora said she brought back some medicine from the Southern Healers in her recent spoils of war. I want to try that."

Aurora lifted her chin, practically preening. "Now that is something worthy of a true Alpha."

I placed the bowl back on the table. I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I didn't fight for my place.

Damian looked immensely satisfied with my quiet submission. He reached over and adjusted the shawl around my shoulders, a grotesque mimicry of a loving mate. "Get some rest. I'm going to escort Aurora to her new room."

As Aurora walked past me, the cuff of her leather jacket deliberately brushed against my shoulder. She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper meant only for me. "I heard there's an incinerator in the basement. If you ever want to get rid of those cheap, outdated Omega perfumes, I can have someone burn them for you. The Luna’s room shouldn't always smell so... obsolete."

I raised my eyes to meet her mocking gaze. "Thanks for the reminder."

At the door, Damian turned back to look at me one last time. "Selena, don't overthink things. You are my True Mate. Nobody can change that."

The heavy door clicked shut. As his footsteps faded down the hall, the agonizing pain of the bond slowly dispersed, leaving behind a cold, hollow numbness.

I walked over to the grimoire, pulled out the plane ticket, and double-checked the details. The date. The name. The destination. Everything was set.

Then, I opened my massive oak wardrobe. I pulled out the very first dress Damian had ever bought me. I took down the first vow he had written in blood. I unclasped the first silver-bell bracelet he had wrapped around my wrist. I shoved every single memory, every token of a love that was now suffocating me, into heavy black garbage bags.

When the massive iron jaws of the basement incinerator swallowed those memories in a roar of orange flames, I stood completely still in front of the furnace door. I watched the ashes curl and dance in the heat, counting the time left in my head.

Fifteen days, now turning into fourteen.

Damian was in Aurora’s room right now. And when he had kissed my forehead earlier, my heart hadn't fluttered. Not even once.

The firelight reflected off my cold palms as I slammed the iron door shut.

"Goodnight, Damian."

...

Selena

"Hand over the Moonstone necklace. Don't keep the Elders waiting."

We were standing in the grand hall of the Elder Council. Damian was by my side, but his gaze was fixed straight ahead, refusing to look at me. The vaulted stone ceiling echoed with the hushed whispers of the high-ranking wolves who had gathered for the spectacle.

Aurora was already seated in the intricately carved oak chair—the seat traditionally reserved for the Luna. Strapped to her thigh was a short tactical blade, its hilt inlaid with the military crest of the Northern Frost Pack. Today, she wore a pristine white ceremonial military uniform, a stark contrast to her fiery hair. Her collar was heavily perfumed with that same aggressive, heat-inducing scent. Every wolf who walked past her subconsciously bowed their heads, yielding to the overpowering aura she projected.

The First Elder, an ancient wolf whose muzzle was entirely gray, pushed a thick parchment scroll across the polished stone table toward me.

"Selena," his voice rumbled, echoing with centuries of authority. "You are an unawakened Omega. You do not possess the strength to bear the burden of the Lunar prayers during the coronation. Aurora has proven her worth on the battlefield time and time again. The necklace shall remain in her temporary custody. It is only fitting."

Temporary custody.

What an elegant, diplomatic way to phrase a blatant usurpation.

Damian finally lowered his head, his fingertips lightly grazing the delicate silver chain of the Moonstone resting against my collarbone. "It's just for a few days," he murmured, his voice a low, coaxing rumble meant only for my ears. "Once the political situation stabilizes, I will find something even better for you."

I didn't argue. I slowly reached up and unclasped the lock.

The moment the necklace slipped from my skin, a profound emptiness settled over my chest. The Moonstone had been warmed by my body heat, saturated with the faint remnants of my fading mate mark. As it left me, the dying Mate Bond gave a weak, pathetic twitch, instantly suffocated by the heavy, dark magic of the witch’s potion still coursing through my veins.

Aurora extended a perfectly manicured hand, waiting for me to drop it into her palm like a servant.

Instead, I placed the Moonstone directly onto the center of the long stone table, well out of her reach.

"Since it is a sacred relic of the Pack, we should follow proper procedure and file an official transfer record," I stated smoothly.

The Elders exchanged uncertain glances. The smug, triumphant smile on Aurora's lips faltered for a fraction of a second.

Damian’s hand clamped down on my shoulder. The suffocating weight of an Alpha Command bore down on me, heavy and suffocating. "Selena. Do not complicate a simple matter."

My Omega body reacted instinctively, long before my rational mind could stop it. My throat tightened, cutting off my air, and my knees trembled, threatening to buckle under the sheer, oppressive power of his dominance.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. The sharp taste of copper grounded me. Fighting through the overwhelming urge to submit, I pushed the heavy registration quill across the table toward the First Elder.

"Then let the Elder Council document it with a single line," I managed to say, my voice steady despite the tremor in my legs. "So no one can accuse me of losing the Luna's relic in the future."

The pressure of Damian’s palm on my shoulder increased, his grip almost bruising. "I told you to be a good girl," he growled through the mind-link, his voice snapping like a whip in my head.

Low murmurs rippled through the grand hall.

Refusing to let the tension build further, Aurora abruptly stood up. She reached across the table, snatched the necklace, and secured it around her own neck right in front of the entire assembly.

The Moonstone settled against her chest, but it didn't glow. When it belonged to a true Luna, the stone emitted a soft, warm luminescence, resonating with the soul of its wearer. Against Aurora's skin, it remained dark and lifeless—a dead, cold rock.

Yet, she lifted her chin higher, refusing to acknowledge the stone's rejection. "Rest assured, Selena," she sneered softly. "I will secure the Luna's throne in your stead."

I looked at her, my expression void of the jealousy or heartbreak she so desperately wanted to see.

"Make sure you sit tight, then."

A flash of genuine annoyance crossed Aurora's face. She was a predator accustomed to her prey weeping and thrashing. My lack of reaction robbed her of the twisted thrill of victory. She didn't get the dramatic breakdown she had anticipated, and it soured her triumph.

Damian grabbed my arm and practically dragged me out of the grand hall.

At the end of the long stone corridor, he shoved me into a small, dimly lit receiving room and slammed the door shut. Before I could even catch my breath, his hand shot out, his fingers gripping my jaw tightly, forcing me to look up at him.

"Are you punishing me?" he demanded, his voice a dangerous, low snarl.

"No."

"You never used to act like this."

"And you never used to give the Luna's relic to another woman," I replied evenly, not breaking eye contact.

His fingers twitched against my skin before he abruptly let me go, running a frustrated hand through his dark hair. "The Pack is about more than just feelings, Selena! Aurora commands three thousand battle-hardened warrior wolves. Her reputation alone is enough to keep the Southern borders in check. You understand the impossible position I'm in."

"I understand."

Damian yanked at his collar, popping the top button as if the room had suddenly grown too hot. "Stop using that tone with me."

"What tone?"

He stared at me for a long, heavy moment. For the first time, a flicker of genuine, unnameable panic broke through his Alpha facade.

"I can't smell you," he whispered.

It was Day Ten of the potion. The dark magic had already severed more than half of the bond, drastically dampening the sweet, comforting Omega scent that used to cling to me like a second skin.

Damian took a sudden step forward, leaning down until his nose brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck. His breathing was shallow, rapid. "Before... the moment I got close to you, I could feel you responding to me. Your wolf would purr for mine. But now... there's nothing. It's empty."

I didn't push him away. I just stood there, cold and unmoving. "Maybe Aurora’s scent is just overpowering mine."

His face contorted, a mix of guilt and rising anger, but before he could argue, the sharp click of boots echoed from the hallway.

The door swung open without a knock.

"Damian," Aurora announced, stepping into the room as if she owned it. "The Elders need you to review the guest list for tomorrow's victory banquet."

Her eyes darted to Damian, who was still leaning intimately close to my neck. Her features immediately tightened with displeasure.

"Selena," she said, her voice dripping with faux politeness. "I need to borrow your room. I have to try on the coronation gown, and the master bedroom has the best mirrors."

Damian frowned, stepping back from me. "That's her room, Aurora."

Aurora crossed her arms over her chest, the leather of her uniform creaking. "I just returned from the front lines in blood-soaked armor. I took three Rogue assaults for the Northern Pack. And now, I can't even use a mirror? Or are you just afraid I might dirty the Omega's pillows?"

I looked at Damian.

He refused to meet my eyes. He stared at the floor, his jaw tight. "Selena," he muttered. "Just let her use it this once."

I nodded slowly. "Fine."

When I returned to the master bedroom later, Aurora’s entourage had already moved a massive, wrought-iron dress rack into the center of the room.

My silk nightgown had been carelessly tossed over the back of a chair. On my vanity, where my silver comb used to sit, she had lined up her heavy, blood-stained military medals. The entire room reeked of her aggressive, chemically-enhanced pheromones.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the heavy silver gown, her fingers deliberately tracing the Moonstone resting against her collarbone.

"You see?" she purred, catching my reflection in the glass. "It looks much more authentic on me."

I walked over to my bedside drawer, ignoring her completely, and pulled out my Pack Identification Crystal. "Mhm."

Aurora turned around, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized me. "Are you really not angry? Or are Omegas so fundamentally weak that they haven't even evolved a sense of shame?"

I slipped the crystal into my pocket. "Take your time fitting the dress."

Down in the subterranean Pack Archives, the system administrator looked up in shock when I approached his desk.

"Madam? You wish to revoke your clearance access?"

I slid the old, weathered authorization parchment—signed in Damian's own blood three years ago—across the metal counter. "Process it according to protocol."

"Does the Alpha know about this?" he asked nervously.

I pushed the freshly stamped Moonstone transfer record toward him. "As of today, I no longer manage the Luna's affairs."

The administrator swallowed hard and didn't ask another question.

As I watched the glowing blue runes on my crystal turn a dead, dull gray—revoking my status as a high-ranking pack member line by line—I could faintly hear the sound of Aurora's laughter echoing from the upper floors, reveling in her new dress.

That evening, Damian intercepted me in the hallway.

"Selena, what were you doing in the Archives today?"

I opened my palm, revealing the dead, gray crystal. "Transferring my clearance."

He snatched it from my hand, his eyes scanning the dull surface. His face drained of color. "Who gave you the authority to erase your registry from my personal records?"

"The Elders wanted Aurora to take over the Luna's duties. I'm simply cooperating."

Damian’s hand shot out, gripping my upper arm like a vice. "I didn't tell you to erase yourself from my life!"

Before I could answer, Aurora appeared from around the corner, slipping her arm through his. The Moonstone swung heavily against her chest. "Damian, she's just throwing a tantrum. You know how Omegas are. They love to threaten Alphas with disappearing acts to get attention."

I looked straight at Damian. "Is that what you think too?"

His lips parted, but no words came out.

Aurora tugged gently on his arm. "The banquet is about to start. Don't let everyone see you fighting over a little misunderstanding."

Damian visibly swallowed his anger, his eyes dark and storming. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low warning. "Go back to your room and wait for me. Do not do anything else to piss me off tonight."

I smoothly pulled my arm out of his grip. The dead crystal slipped silently back into my sleeve. "Okay."

He stared intensely at the side of my neck, his brow furrowing deeper. "Why can't I smell you?"

I reached out and calmly straightened his collar, my touch completely devoid of the lingering affection I used to harbor. "Maybe Aurora’s scent really did cover it up."

...

Selena

"Turn off the mind-link tonight. Don't let your little aches and pains ruin the victory banquet."

Damian stood in the doorway of the master bedroom, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit. Behind him, a few attendants waited nervously in the hall, ready to escort the Alpha to the grand hall.

It was a full moon tonight. The pull of the lunar cycle was already wreaking havoc on my body. The dark magic of the potion was violently clashing with my Omega instincts, tearing at the few remaining threads of the Mate Bond. The pain radiated deep into my bones, a primal, desperate agony that practically begged me to seek my Alpha’s comfort.

I gripped the sturdy wooden bedpost, my knuckles turning white, sweat plastering my hair to the side of my face.

"It's the full moon tonight," I gasped, barely able to keep my voice steady.

Damian frowned, looking mildly annoyed by the reminder. "I know."

"Your wolf... it's going to act up."

"Aurora brought back medicine from the Southern Healers."

As if summoned by her name, Aurora poked her head out from the hallway, holding an ornate silver goblet. "Selena, don't act like your little herbal brews are the only thing keeping the pack together. An Alpha isn't a child. He doesn't need an Omega spoon-feeding him medicine every day."

Damian took the silver goblet from her hands but didn't drink from it. He looked back at me, his gaze softening just a fraction.

"I'll be back soon," he promised.

"Don't shut the mind-link," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. It was a plea, my last one.

Damian’s jaw hardened. "You need to learn how to be alone, Selena."

The moment the words left his mouth, a heavy, suffocating silence fell over my mind. The warm, humming connection that had lived in my head for the past fifteen years—the channel that tied my soul to his—was abruptly severed.

It wasn't distance. It wasn't silence. It was a deliberate, brutal block. He shut the door on me.

The pain exploded from my chest, shooting down my spine like liquid lightning. My legs gave out. I collapsed beside the bed, my fingers blindly clawing at the thick duvet just to keep from hitting the floor entirely.

Out in the hallway, Aurora laughed, her voice light and teasing as she tugged at his arm. "Everyone is waiting for you, Damian. We can't have a victory banquet for the War Goddess without the Alpha."

Damian hesitated for a split second before turning away. "Selena, do not embarrass me in front of the pack tonight."

The heavy oak door clicked shut.

The room plunged into an eerie stillness, save for my own ragged breathing and the agonizing churn of the potion eating away at my soul.

For the past three years, I had stayed by his side through every single full moon, helping him survive the dark-magic injuries scarring his wolf's spirit. When the pain drove him into a feral frenzy, he would bite into his own shoulder, trying to tear his own flesh. I would brew potions using my own blood, kneel on the hard floor, cradle his head against my chest, and forcefully pull his wolf back from the brink of madness, again and again.

I remembered him holding me afterward, his lips gently kissing away the blood on my wrists.

“You saved me, Selena,” he used to whisper, his voice trembling with raw devotion. “Without you, I would be dead.”

Tonight, he left me writhing on the floor of the master bedroom so he could bask in the cheers and adulation Aurora had orchestrated for him.

Faint strains of music drifted through the thick stone walls from the grand hall. I could hear the roar of the pack, chanting Aurora's name. I heard them cheering, urging the Alpha to share a dance with the War Goddess.

I dragged myself off the floor, crawling toward the small wooden table in the corner. My trembling fingers wrapped around the ceramic bowl of herbal medicine I hadn't poured out yet.

Looking down into the dark liquid, I saw the dark red droplets of my own blood settling at the bottom.

This bowl of medicine used to be his lifeline. Now, it was just a pathetic joke.

A metallic taste rose in the back of my throat. I carried the bowl to the bathroom sink and poured it down the drain, watching the dark liquid swirl away.

I gathered my silver needles, my herbal grimoires, my meticulous logs of every full moon, and shoved them all into the roaring fireplace.

As the flames greedily consumed the parchment, the hushed voices of two passing maids drifted in from the hallway.

"Lady Aurora just announced that the Luna’s coronation will be held in a week."

"What about Lady Selena?"

"The Alpha said she'll always be his True Mate. But separating the Luna title from the True Mate... it's not entirely without precedent."

"She’s so pitiful."

Pitiful.

When that word hit my ears, a dark, hollow laugh actually bubbled up from my throat.

When the pain reached its absolute peak, my body instinctively wanted to let out a desperate, pleading howl. I reached for the mind-link, instinctively seeking his comfort, only to hit a solid, impenetrable wall. I couldn't even reach him if I tried.

I grabbed a pillow from the bed, buried my face in it, and screamed until my throat was raw, swallowing every ounce of sound.

I will not beg him.

I will never beg anyone again.

Under the light of the full moon, the potion initiated its final, brutal phase of separation. The tether in my chest turned from a burning heat to a terrifying, absolute freezing cold. Every instinct, every submissive trait that Damian had commanded over the past fifteen years, slowly began to recede, draining out of me like the tide.

Around midnight, the bedroom door was suddenly thrown open.

Damian stumbled in. He reeked of cheap alcohol and Aurora's suffocating rose-and-smoke scent. There was a smeared imprint of red lipstick stark against the crisp white collar of his shirt.

His hazy gaze immediately fell on the pile of ash in the fireplace. His expression darkened into a scowl. "What did you burn this time?"

I leaned against the footboard of the bed, lacking the energy to even stand. "Just old things."

"Selena, I told you to stop throwing these little tantrums."

"I'm not throwing a tantrum."

Damian took a step closer, finally noticing how unnaturally pale my face was. "Are you sick?"

He reached out, pressing the back of his hand against my forehead. His Mate instincts, sluggish and delayed, finally recognized that I was in pain and tried to offer comfort. But the moment his skin touched mine, the energy found no anchor. It slipped right off me.

His hand froze in mid-air.

"Why can't I feel you?" he demanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl.

I slowly lifted my eyes to meet his. "You blocked the mind-link."

"That was just for tonight."

"It was enough."

Damian’s expression twisted into an ugly sneer. "Are you punishing me because I spent the evening with Aurora?"

I didn't answer.

Footsteps clicked in the hallway, and Aurora strolled into the room, casually draped in Damian’s heavy winter coat. "Damian, the Elders are still waiting for you to sign the Victory Edicts."

She stopped, her eyes landing on the ashes in the fireplace. She let out a dramatic, exaggerated sigh, covering her nose. "Burning diaries? Selena, that trick is so cliché. If you want the Alpha to pity you, you should at least try crying. It looks better."

Damian turned sharply toward the fireplace. "Diaries?"

I picked up the very last journal sitting on the edge of the hearth and tossed it into the flames.

The leather cover had Year One: Full Moons embossed on it. Inside were detailed, meticulous records of every single time his wolf had lost control. The exact dosage of the medicine, the specific herbs, and the times he had bitten me so deeply I bled, only to hold me afterward and beg for forgiveness.

The fire curled around the leather, consuming the final pages.

Damian’s face drained of color. He lunged forward, desperately reaching into the hearth to pull it out, but it was already too late. It crumbled into ash in his hands.

"Why would you burn this?" he roared, his voice trembling.

I stared at the empty bookshelf. "I don't need it anymore."

Aurora let out a soft, mocking giggle. "Good riddance. The Luna’s quarters need fresh records anyway. We shouldn't keep the pathetic ramblings of a weak Omega laying around."

Damian spun around, his eyes blazing with sudden, unbridled fury. "Get out."

Aurora froze, her smile vanishing. "Are you yelling at me?"

He rubbed his temples, his anger quickly deflating into exhaustion. "Just leave. I'll come find you later."

She huffed, turning on her heel and storming out, making sure her boots deliberately kicked up the ashes scattered on the floor.

Damian crouched down in front of me, reaching out to pull me into a hug. "Selena... tonight was my fault. I neglected you. I promise, I'll spend all day with you tomorrow."

I turned my face away, a violent wave of nausea rolling through my stomach.

His embrace, which used to be my sanctuary, now reeked of another woman's scent. It didn't bring me peace anymore; it just made me want to throw up.

Damian slowly pulled his arms back, a flicker of genuine annoyance flashing in his eyes. "How long are you going to keep acting so cold?"

I closed my eyes, exhausted down to my very soul. "Until there's no reason to be warm anymore."

By early morning, he had left again, returning with the fresh scent of Aurora clinging to him.

The master bedroom was almost entirely bare. The bookshelves were empty. The vanity was cleared of everything except Aurora's medals. The massive wardrobe held nothing but a few threadbare dresses.

He stood in the doorway, and for the first time, he didn't immediately lose his temper. He just stared at the emptiness.

I handed the final heavy black garbage bag to the pack guard waiting in the hall. "Take this to the incinerator."

Damian stepped forward, his hand blocking the bag. "What's in here?"

I stared at his hand. Right across his knuckles, there was a fresh, angry red scratch—left by Aurora’s fingernails.

"Useless trash," I replied.