Mira learned the truth three days after the bond began to pull on its own.
She learned it in the healer's chamber, where the air always smelled of crushed leaves and old stone, and where lies had no room to breathe.
The room was quiet when she entered. Too quiet.
The elderly healer, Maera, stood near a low table covered with bowls of dark liquid and folded cloth. Her gray hair was braided tight, her back straight despite her age. She had healed wolves from both packs during the war, long before borders hardened into hate.
Ryker stood near the wall, arms crossed, his presence heavy and guarded.
That alone made Mira uneasy.
"You sent for me," Mira said, keeping her voice steady.
Maera turned slowly. Her eyes were kind but sad. That was worse than anger.
"Yes, child," the healer said. "Sit."
Mira did not sit.
"Just tell me," she said. "Whatever this is."
Maera exchanged a look with Ryker.
That was when Mira knew something was wrong.
The bond stirred faintly, like a bruise being pressed.
"Speak," Mira snapped. "I'm not fragile."
Maera sighed and gestured again to the stone bench. "You will want to sit."
Mira hesitated, then lowered herself onto the edge of the bench. Her muscles were tight, ready to spring.
Maera took a small crystal vial from the table. Inside it, something dark shimmered faintly, like smoke trapped in glass.
"This," Maera said, "is a record stone. It holds the echoes of rejected bonds."
Mira frowned. "Rejected… bonds?"
"Yes."
Her chest tightened. "Plural?"
Maera nodded. "Rare, but not unheard of."
Ryker shifted. His jaw clenched.
Mira looked between them. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because," Maera said gently, "your symptoms have begun early."
Mira's breath caught. "What symptoms?"
Maera's voice was calm, practiced. "The pulling. The pain when you resist. The loss of balance. The heat followed by cold."
Mira's fingers curled into her palms. She had told herself those were temporary. Side effects. Fear.
"You said the bond had thirty days," Mira said sharply, looking at Ryker. "Thirty days before rejection sickness."
"That is what we believed," Ryker said quietly.
Believed.
The word rang loud.
"And now?" Mira asked.
Maera lifted the vial. "The bond has been disturbed."
Mira's stomach dropped. "By who?"
"We don't know," Maera admitted. "But the result is the same."
She uncorked the vial. A faint sound filled the air.
Instantly, Mira's wolf recoiled.
Pain shot through Mira's chest—sudden, sharp, intimate. She gasped, doubling forward as her heart stuttered once, hard.
"Stop," Ryker barked.
Maera sealed the vial again at once. The pain faded, leaving Mira breathless and shaking.
"What was that?" Mira demanded.
Maera's expression was grave. "A memory of the final stage."
Ryker swore under his breath.
Mira pushed herself upright. "Final stage of what?"
Maera met her eyes. "Rejection."
Silence fell thick and suffocating.
"No," Mira said. "You're lying."
"I am not," Maera replied softly.
Ryker stepped forward. "Mira..."
She rounded on him. "You knew."
"I suspected," he said. "But I hoped..."
"Don't," she snapped. "Don't soften it."
She turned back to the healer. "Explain. Clearly."
Maera nodded. "When a fated bond is fully rejected, the body begins to fail. Slowly at first. The heart weakens. The wolf grows unstable. The mind fractures."
Mira swallowed. "And then?"
"And then," Maera said, "the bond turns inward."
Ryker's hand clenched.
"It consumes what it was meant to bind," Maera finished. "Both parties."
Mira's vision blurred. "You said both."
"Yes."
Her laugh came out sharp and hollow. "So if I refuse him..."
"You die," Maera said gently.
"And Ryker?"
Maera did not look away. "So does he."
The words slammed into Mira like a blade.
She staggered back, hitting the stone wall.
"No," she whispered. "That's not possible. He's the Alpha. The bond wouldn't..."
"The bond does not care about rank," Maera said. "Or war. Or hatred."
Ryker stepped closer. "This is why the council is pressing."
Mira turned on him, fury blazing through the shock. "So that's it? That's the trap?"
"No," he said sharply. "This is why I'm trying to protect you."
"By forcing me to choose between my life and my freedom?"
"I didn't create this," he snapped back. "I'm trying to stop it from killing you."
Her wolf snarled, pressing hard against her ribs.
Mira shook her head, breathing hard. "There has to be another way."
Maera hesitated.
That hesitation was everything.
Mira's gaze snapped back to her. "There is something else."
Maera closed her eyes briefly. "There is… theory."
"Say it."
"In ancient records," the healer said, "there are mentions of delayed death."
Ryker stiffened. "Delayed."
"Yes," Maera said. "If one mate fully accepts while the other continues to resist, the bond does not break. It twists."
Mira's skin crawled. "Twists how?"
"The accepting mate survives," Maera said. "The rejecting mate weakens instead. Slowly."
Ryker's voice was low. "No."
Maera met his gaze. "It has happened before."
Mira felt sick. "So if he accepts and I don't…"
"You would suffer," Maera said. "For months. Maybe years. Until the bond finishes its work."
Ryker took a sharp step back. "That will not happen."
Mira laughed weakly. "So my options are death, or slow death."
Maera did not contradict her.
Silence pressed in again.
Mira slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to her chest. Her mind raced, searching for cracks, for escape.
"You said the bond was disturbed," she said suddenly. "By someone."
"Yes."
"What if someone did this on purpose?"
Ryker's eyes narrowed. "You think this was planned."
"I think," Mira said slowly, "that someone wanted to make sure rejection wasn't an option."
The bond pulsed faintly, as if in agreement.
Maera looked uneasy. "If that is true, then this bond is no longer natural."
Ryker's jaw tightened. "Then someone is playing with forces they don't control."
Mira looked up at him. "And I'm the leash."
Their eyes locked.
Outside the chamber, footsteps echoed. Voices rose—urgent, sharp.
A guard appeared in the doorway, face pale. "Alpha. The council demands your presence."
Ryker did not look away from Mira. "Tell them I'll come."
The guard hesitated. "They say it concerns the mate bond."
Mira's heart sank.
Ryker exhaled slowly. "Of course it does."
He turned back to Maera. "How long?"
Maera swallowed. "Before the first true failure? Days. Perhaps a week."
Mira's hands trembled.
Ryker's gaze snapped back to her. "That's not happening."
She gave a bitter smile. "You don't get to decide that."
"I will," he said. "One way or another."
He turned to leave, then paused. "Do not be alone tonight."
Mira laughed quietly. "I don't think that's possible anymore."
After he left, the chamber felt colder.
Maera knelt beside her. "Child… I am sorry."
Mira stared at her hands. "If I reject him, he dies."
"Yes."
"And if I accept him," Mira whispered, "I betray everything I am."
Maera did not answer.
The bond stirred—soft, patient, merciless.
Later that night, Mira lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
Her heart skipped once.
Then again.
She sucked in a sharp breath, pain blooming behind her eyes.
The rejection sickness had begun.
And somewhere deep within the stronghold, something ancient and pleased shifted waiting to see which way she would break.