I pressed my palm to the enchanted Pact Stone in the Records Chamber.

The clerk-a werewolf elder scratched runes into the air, each letter burning blue before dissolving into the stone.

"To cancel a pureblood's pack identity," he growled, "requires destroying your blood scroll. The process will feel like ripping out your soul's imprint."

I nodded, extending my wrist.

He sliced it open a vein, and my blood fell onto the stone, forming a sigil that began to writhe like a wounded snake. The Pact Stone rumbled, peeling my name from its depths-each syllable of "Jessica Lagerfelt" burning away.

"Name change requires a lunar invocation," the elder said.

Stepping out of the bond hall, my phone thrummed incessantly-missed calls and messages from Anders. I let it ring, unread, unreturned.

Dusk had fallen by the time I reached the villa.

Anders stood in the living room, rushing to me the moment I entered, panic pooling in his eyes. "Baby, where were you? I've been waiting for hours-almost mobilized every contact in the pack."

I stared at him, my heart clamped in a vice.

I remembered sophomore year, during the Wolfsbane Festival-when he abandoned the sacred Bloodmoon Vigil to find me.

The elders had warned us: missing the ritual meant risking a werewolf's first shift under a waning moon.

Back then, I'd been his entire world. But his love, it seemed, had never been singular.

My throat clogged.

Yet I mustered a calm smile.

"Went to the park. Forgot to tell you. Sorry."

Relief flooded his features as he pulled me into a hug.

" I'm not angry, just worried."

He kissed my hair, voice softening.

"You wanted steak. Let me cook for you, yeah?"

He released me, turning to the kitchen.

I watched his back-shirt sleeves rolled, long fingers gripping a knife. Warm light caressed his profile, even his brow bones looked tender.

Five years ago, when my stomach ulcers flared under the bloodmoon, the hospital's walls made my wolf form itch. Anders burst through the enchanted ward.

"I found a master chef who specializes in werewolf convalescent cuisine," he said, pressing a steaming bowl into my hands.

The soup glowed with moonlight. But what caught my eye were his fingers-third-degree burns wept silver-blue serum, crisscrossed with cuts that healed too slowly, as if cursed.

"Anders, your hands-"

He pulled back, hiding them behind his back.

"Just... mishaps with a dragonfire stove."

For thirty days, he came every dawn, each meal more elaborate.

Then his phone rang. I saw his face twitch at the screen.

He dropped the knife, wiping his hands.

"Baby, urgent pack business. I have to go."

He untied his apron, kissing my forehead.

"Eat first; don't wait."

I nodded wordlessly.

After he left, I stood before the steaming food-perfectly sauced steak.

But the sight squeezed my chest until I couldn't breathe. I

'd seen the caller ID: Caroline Chastain.

I hailed a cab, tailing his car.

Not to the office, but to the hospital.

The entire VIP floor was cleared; doctors and nurses bowed to Anders.

The director hunched, voice hushed: "My deepest apologies. We failed to protect Miss Chastain from her fall. We'll assign more nurses-"

Anders' face was ice, voice frigid.

"Next time, this hospital closes."

Hidden behind the enchanted ward, my fingers ripped through the linen gown.

His friend had called it "minor scratches," but Caroline's hospital bed was ringed with candles.

The door creaked open, releasing a wave of ... my own blood.

Caroline leaned against the headboard, her wrist bandaged in gauze.

Anders knelt at her bedside.

"Does the scar throb?" His voice was velve.

Caroline sniffled.

"First the car crash, now this..."

"I'm a curse, Anders. Jessica will-"

"Shh."

"I'll handle her."

Anders' voice dropped to a growl.

"We're mates, Caroline. "

He reached behind his neck, unclasping a chain that had rested there for years.

The pendant hit my nose like a silver bullet: a crescent moon carved from the same Pact Stone we'd sworn on, set with a fang from his first shift.

I'd spent 365 nights bleeding into a silver cauldron, summoning the Moon Goddess to bless it-each drop of my pureblood now pulsed in the charm.

He was already fastening the chain around Caroline's neck.

Caroline gasped, clutching the charm.

"But this is the Bloodmoon stone you said-"

"-that only my true mate could wear."

He finished, pressing a kiss to her bandaged wrist.

"Consider it a late mating gift."

I staggered back, hitting a silver IV stand. The charm around Caroline's neck throbbed in time with Anders' heartbeat. The memory of giving him that gift burned in my throat: how he'd sworn to wear it until his last breath.

My heart tore like flesh under a dull blade.

I fled the hospital, steps as airy as mist.

The moment I shut the door, my phone vibrated-Anders' message:"Baby, urgent business . Don't be angry. I'll make it up to you."

Staring at the screen, my fingers shook over the keyboard.

I typed:"Business trip, or time with your loved she wolf?"?

I spent the days packing:-every trace of "Jessica Lagerfelt" stuffed into a black suitcase.

As the zipper closed, I heard something shatter in my chest: quiet, final.

Five days later, Anders returned.

He pushed the door, holding a bouquet of roses , smile as tender as memory:

"Baby, I'm home."

I stood in the living room.

He set down the flowers, reaching to hug me:

"I hated leaving you. Forgive me?"

"I'm not angry. Do what you need."

He paused, then smiled, taking my hand:

He paused, diamond cufflinks catching the chandelier light.

"No more pack board meetings." His thumb brushed the back of my hand "I have a surprise in the penthouse."

The elevator opened to a wall of white roses, their petals dusted with diamond powder.

As we stepped onto the marble floor, a crowd of socialites gasped, iPhones flashing:

"Can you believe it? Alpha Trier bought out the entire Burj Khalifa penthouse for Miss Lagerfelt!"

"Those roses are from his private greenhouse in Monaco-each one costs a thousand dollars."

"Look at that necklace! Is that the Star of Africa II? He had it recut into her birthstone."

I touched the diamond pendant, its weight pulling at my neck.

The stone was indeed my birthstone, but something felt off.

A socialite whispered behind her hand: "Did you hear? He chartered a private jet just to pick up her favorite macarons from Ladurée. The flight cost more than my apartment."

Another laughed: "Devotion? He's obsessed. I heard he had this entire penthouse redecorated three times."

He'd gifted me the world's romance, yet given mate bonds to another.

I sat in the VIP box, as Anders leaned in with that familiar smile.

He bent to adjust my shawl, warm breath tickling my ear: "Cold?"

I shook my head, but a sudden cramp seized my abdomen, as if a hand were twisting my insides. Anders noticed at once, fingertips pressing my waist: "Is it your moon cycle?"

Warmth pooled beneath me, heating my cheeks. I nodded.

Without a word, he pressed his palm to my stomach, massaging gently, voice thick with apology: "Does it hurt badly? Should we leave?"

I bit my lip, shaking my head.

When he couldn't persuade me, he called his beta for supplies-pads, heat packs.

All the while, his focus never wavered: asking if I wanted hot water, if my blanket was warm enough.

Half an hour later, a figure approached quietly: "Alpha Anders, the items."

We both turned-Caroline Chastain stood there, clutching a paper bag.

Her hair clung wet to her cheeks, paler than in the hospital.

Anders' face darkened: "You just recovered. Who told you to come.I called Beta"

Caroline worried her lip, voice tiny: "beta was in a pack meeting. I feared Miss Lagerfelt's pain... and that you'd wait too long."

She held out the bag, adding softly, "It's pouring. I forgot an umbrella."

Anders' expression shifted.

He took the bag, offering it to me: "Baby, I'll accompany you."

I took the bag and headed for the restroom.

When I emerged, Anders was gone.

As I turned to search, a faint sound came from the adjacent stall.

Peering through the crack ,

I saw Anders pin Caroline against the sink, kissing her wildly.

She pushed at his chest, half-resisting:

"Stop... Miss Lagerfelt is waiting..."

"Leave her," he rasped, gripping her chin.

"Running in this storm-trying to break my heart?"

"I just didn't want her to suffer... You hurt when she hurts, don't you?"

Caroline's voice cracked.

"I only want you happy..."

Anders seemed to soften, kissing her harder.

She gave a low moan.

He laughed, tone eerily gentle: "Feeling it now?"

Caroline blushed scarlet, shoving his shoulders:

"Go back to her. I can-"

"Can what?" His fingers trailed to her waist, playful.

"This needs a man's touch."

Fabric rustled; her breath hitched.

His voice dropped to a purr: "Good girl, relax..."

I stood outside, stomach heaving, heart split by a dull blade.

I remembered our first, him trembling under fireworks: "Jessica, may I?"

His lips had been as light as feathers.

I remembered our first night, his hands shaking with restraint, asking "Does it hurt?" until I nodded.

He'd held me all night, swearing "Only you, forever."

Now, those same hands-once used to soothe my cramps, to pluck my kite from trees-pleasured another she-wolf.

Anders Trier, how perfectly you've deceived me!

Cramping and heartache merged.

I staggered back, smashing the flower vase.

The crash silenced the restroom.

"Who's there?"