The hall was too quiet.
Ayra felt it before she understood it.
The silence was wrong.
Hundreds of pack members filled the ceremonial chamber. The stone walls were lined with silver torches. The Alpha crest hung high behind the raised platform. Tonight was supposed to be sacred. Final. Certain.
Her mating ceremony.
Ayra stood beside Vincent Thorn, Alpha of the Nightfall Pack. Her hands trembled, but she kept them folded in front of her the way she had practiced. Her silver-gray dress brushed softly against the polished floor. She had chosen a simple gown, nothing grand, nothing bold. She did not want attention. She only wanted acceptance.
Vincent stood tall at her side.
Black ceremonial jacket. Broad shoulders. Dark hair perfectly pulled back. His expression unreadable.
He had not looked at her once since entering the hall.
That was not unusual.
Vincent was always controlled. Always distant in public. He believed emotions weakened leadership. Ayra had told herself that many times over the past week.
Still, something felt different tonight.
The elders formed a circle around them. Beta Theo stood behind Vincent, jaw tight. Priestess Mira lifted her staff and stepped forward.
"Tonight," she announced, her voice echoing against stone, "we witness the binding of Alpha Vincent Thorn to his fated mate, Ayra Vale. By blood and by bond, they will lead as one."
A murmur passed through the crowd.
Ayra's heart beat hard enough to hurt.
She turned slightly toward Vincent.
Just a glance. Just a sign.
He was staring straight ahead.
Too still.
Priestess Mira gestured for them to join hands.
Ayra lifted her hand slowly.
Vincent did not move.
The pause stretched.
A few pack members shifted uncomfortably.
Theo frowned.
Ayra felt heat rise to her face. Maybe he had not heard. Maybe he was waiting for the right moment. Maybe—
"Alpha," the priestess prompted gently.
Vincent finally moved.
He did not take her hand.
Instead, he stepped forward.
Away from her.
The movement was small. But in that silent hall, it felt like thunder.
Ayra's stomach dropped.
He did not look at her.
He faced the pack.
"I will speak," he said.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Priestess Mira hesitated. "Alpha, the ritual—"
"I will speak."
No one challenged him.
He was the Alpha.
Ayra swallowed. Her fingers curled into her palms.
Vincent's gaze swept across the hall. Across his warriors. Across the elders.
He finally looked at her.
His dark eyes met hers.
There was something in them.
Not hatred.
Not anger.
Something tight. Strained.
It almost looked like pain.
Her breath caught.
For a heartbeat, she felt relief.
He would explain. He would calm the rumors. He would claim her publicly and silence the whispers that he regretted the bond.
He opened his mouth.
"I reject this bond."
The words landed clean and sharp.
No hesitation.
No tremor.
Just finality.
The hall erupted.
Gasps. Whispers. Shocked voices.
Ayra heard none of it.
The world narrowed to the space between them.
She stared at him.
Surely she misheard.
Surely—
Vincent's gaze had already shifted away from her.
Like she was no longer standing there.
"I do not accept Ayra Vale as my mate," he continued, his tone steady. "The bond will not be recognized by this pack."
The air felt thin.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Priestess Mira stepped forward. "Alpha, the Moon Bond cannot simply be dismissed. It is—"
"It can," Vincent said. "And it is."
His voice did not rise. It did not shake.
That hurt more.
If he had shouted, if he had shown anger, she could have blamed emotion.
But this was controlled.
Deliberate.
Ayra's knees felt weak.
A whisper reached her ears.
"He never wanted her."
"She's too soft."
"She's barely ranked."
"Embarrassing."
Each word pierced.
She had known some pack members doubted her. She had heard the quiet comments over the past week. She was not from a powerful bloodline. She was not bold. She did not command attention when she walked into a room.
But she had believed the bond mattered more than status.
She had believed Vincent felt it too.
She took a step forward.
"Vincent," she said softly.
Her voice trembled despite her effort.
He did not respond.
She reached toward him without thinking.
"Please," she whispered, too low for most to hear. "If I've done something wrong, tell me. I can fix it."
His jaw tightened.
For a split second, his fingers twitched.
As if he almost reached back.
Then his hand curled into a fist at his side.
"There is nothing to fix," he said, loud enough for everyone. "This was a mistake."
A mistake.
The word echoed inside her skull.
The bond had ignited between them three months ago. The night of the spring hunt. She had felt it like fire and warmth and certainty. He had frozen when their eyes met. She had seen recognition flash across his face.
He had said nothing that night.
But he had not denied it.
Until now.
Priestess Mira looked deeply unsettled. "Alpha, rejecting a true mate brings consequences."
"I am aware."
His eyes flicked toward Ayra again.
There it was.
That look.
Pain.
Regret.
Fear?
It vanished so quickly she almost imagined it.
Ayra realized everyone was staring at her now.
Waiting.
For tears.
For anger.
For collapse.
Her throat burned.
She forced herself to stand straight.
If he would not protect her dignity, she would protect it herself.
"Is this truly your decision?" she asked, louder now.
The hall quieted again.
Vincent held her gaze.
"Yes."
One word.
No hesitation.
Something inside her cracked.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just a quiet breaking.
She nodded once.
"Understood, Alpha."
The formal title tasted bitter.
She would not beg in front of them.
She would not crumble.
If he chose rejection, she would walk with what pride she had left.
Priestess Mira lowered her staff slowly. "Then the ceremony is dissolved."
The elders began whispering urgently among themselves.
Theo looked between Vincent and Ayra, confusion and anger flashing across his face.
Vincent stepped down from the platform.
He walked past her.
So close she felt the warmth of his body.
He did not touch her.
But as he passed, she heard it.
A whisper so low no one else could catch it.
"I'm sorry."
Her breath caught.
She turned sharply.
But he was already moving away, expression unreadable again.
Sorry?
For what?
If he was sorry, why do this?
Why humiliate her in front of the entire pack?
Questions flooded her mind, but the weight of humiliation pressed harder.
A few pack members were openly staring now.
Some looked sympathetic.
Most looked satisfied.
Ayra's cheeks burned.
She bowed stiffly toward the elders.
Then she turned.
And walked.
Every step toward the exit felt like walking through mud.
No one stopped her.
No one called her name.
The heavy doors of the ceremonial hall loomed ahead.
Her vision blurred, but she refused to cry here.
Not in front of them.
Not in front of him.
The doors opened with a deep groan.
Cool night air hit her face.
Only then did her composure fracture.
Her breath came out shaky.
Her chest hurt like something had been torn out of it.
She stepped into the courtyard, the moon bright overhead.
The bond still pulsed faintly in her chest.
It was still there.
Alive.
How could he reject something that still existed?
She pressed a hand against her sternum.
It burned.
Not broken.
Burning.
Behind her, the hall doors closed with a heavy thud.
Cutting her off from the pack.
From Vincent.
From everything she thought her future would be.
She stood alone in the moonlight, heart racing, humiliation washing over her in waves.
And somewhere deep inside her, beneath the pain and confusion, one small, stubborn thought rose:
Something is wrong.
Vincent did not look relieved.
He looked afraid.
But fear of what?
She did not know yet.
All she knew was that tonight, in front of everyone, her mate had rejected her.
And nothing would ever be the same again.