The bond was still hemorrhaging. I could feel it draining—three years of warmth turning to ice in my chest, the mark on my neck cold and empty like a door that used to open into something and now opened into nothing.

But my wolf—

My wolf, who I'd kept buried under wolfsbane for three years, who I'd poisoned into silence every morning with tinctures I brewed in secret—was awake.

Not fully. Not yet. But awake enough that I could feel her slamming against the chemical cage I'd built around her. The wolfsbane was still holding. Barely. My hands trembled against the stone floor. A visible tremor I couldn't control.

I pressed both palms flat. Focused. Breathed.

The suppression held. For now.

I raised my head.

Lawson was still standing there with his arms folded, waiting for me to leave. Mckenzie was still seated in my chair, her smile sharp and satisfied. The pack was still silent, every wolf in the hall watching to see what I would do.

I met Lawson's eyes across the hall.

"I will not accept."

My voice didn't shake. Three years of Silvercrest court training held even when everything else was breaking.

The silence in the hall changed. Became heavier. Denser.

Lawson's jaw tightened. "What?"

"I will not accept the rejection," I said again. Louder this time. Clear enough that every wolf present could hear. "The bond is not severed."

It was true. Technically. A rejection vow required both parties to complete the severance. He'd spoken his part. But I hadn't accepted. Hadn't released my claim. The bond was torn and agonizing and barely holding—but it wasn't gone.

Not yet.

Lawson stared at me like I'd just spoken a language he didn't understand. Then his face darkened.

"You don't get to refuse," he said. The Alpha tone in his voice was sharper now. Meant to make me submit. Meant to force compliance.

It didn't work.

I was still on my knees on the stone floor, one hand pressed against the cold mark on my neck, but I didn't lower my gaze. Didn't look away.

"The Moon Goddess gave me a choice," I said quietly. "I'm making it."

Mckenzie's smile vanished. She rose from the Luna's chair—my chair—and stepped forward. Her red dress moved like blood in the torchlight.

"This is pathetic," she said. Her voice carried across the hall with a confidence I recognized. The confidence of someone who'd rehearsed this moment. Who'd planned every word. "You're embarrassing yourself, Eleanora. You're embarrassing the pack."

She turned to face the assembled wolves. Addressed them like she already had authority.

"A Luna who can't even shift," Mckenzie continued. "A Luna with no wolf. No strength. No worth." She looked back at me. "You were never fit for this position. Everyone knows it. Lawson knows it. And now it's time for you to accept reality."

She gestured to the Omega servants standing near the hall's edge. Two of them—young she-wolves I'd helped train when they first joined the pack—stepped forward hesitantly.

"Take the pendant," Mckenzie ordered.

They looked at each other. Then at me. I could see the apology in their eyes even before they moved.

I didn't fight when they reached for my neck. Didn't resist when their fingers found the silver chain. The Luna pendant—the only object in Ironmaw I'd ever chosen to accept, the one Lawson gave me at our Mate Ceremony—was ripped away.

The chain broke. The pendant fell.

One of the Omegas caught it. Handed it to Mckenzie.

Mckenzie held it up for the pack to see. The silver wolf engraved on its surface caught the torchlight. Then she closed her fist around it.

"Bring the iron," she said.

A Delta warrior near the brazier at the hall's edge looked at Lawson. Waiting for confirmation.

Lawson nodded.

The warrior pulled a silver iron from the brazier's edge and thrust it into the flames. The metal began to glow. Red, then orange, then white-hot.

Mckenzie turned back to me. Her smile returned.

"False Luna," she said slowly, like she was tasting the words. "That's what we'll brand into your shoulder. So every wolf who sees you will know exactly what you are."

My wolf slammed against the wolfsbane cage again. Harder this time. The tremor in my hands spread up my arms.

I pressed my palms harder against the stone. Held the suppression. Held.

"And then," Mckenzie continued, "we'll drag you to the pack border and throw you out. You'll be rogue. Packless. Exactly what you deserve."

She looked at Lawson. "Don't you think, Alpha?"

Lawson's arms were still folded. He was watching me with the same flat expression he'd worn when he spoke the rejection vow. Like I was a problem he'd already solved.

"Do it," he said.

Dara Finch stepped forward from the crowd of ranked wolves. The Gamma she-wolf who'd spent three years making sure every wolf in Ironmaw knew I was unfit. Who'd organized the quiet contempt behind Lawson's back. Who'd smiled every time someone dismissed me.

"The pack deserves better," Dara announced. Her voice was loud. Confident. "We've always deserved a real Luna. A Luna with a real wolf."

Several Delta warriors murmured in agreement. The sound rippled through the hall.

The social machinery of the pack was closing around me. Smooth. Practiced. Like it had been waiting for exactly this permission.

The iron in the brazier glowed brighter.

Mckenzie's smile widened.

And my wolf—my wolf who I'd kept silent for three years, who I'd poisoned and suppressed and buried so deep I thought she'd never wake—

She screamed.

Two warriors moved toward me. I recognized them both. Garrett, a Delta who'd been with Ironmaw since before Lawson became Alpha. And Marcus, younger, who'd joined the pack two years ago and always nodded respectfully when I passed.

Neither of them looked at my face as they reached for my arms.

Their hands closed around my wrists. Firm. Not brutal, but not gentle either. The kind of grip that said they'd been given an order and would follow it.

I didn't struggle. Didn't pull away. Just let them position my arms where Mckenzie wanted them.

The bond in my chest was still hemorrhaging. Still draining. Every breath felt like I was inhaling broken glass. But my wolf—my wolf was awake now, slamming against the wolfsbane cage with a fury I hadn't felt in three years.

I looked past the warriors. Past Mckenzie standing there with her satisfied smile and the glowing iron in her hand. Past the ranked wolves watching with their carefully neutral expressions.

I looked at Lawson.

He was still standing beside the Alpha seat with his arms folded. Still watching me like I was a problem that had already been solved. Like the three years we'd spent together—the mornings I woke up next to him, the nights I fell asleep listening to his heartbeat, the moment he took a blade meant for me during that border raid—meant nothing.

"Do you remember," I said quietly, my voice so low it shouldn't have carried across the hall but somehow did, "what you swore at our Mate Ceremony?"

The question landed in the silence like a stone dropped into still water.

Several older wolves shifted in their positions. I could see it in my peripheral vision—the slight movement of bodies that had been perfectly still a moment before. Wolves who'd attended our Mate Ceremony three years ago. Who'd witnessed the vow Lawson made when he marked me.

Lawson's jaw tightened. For a fraction of a second something flickered behind his eyes. Not guilt. Not regret. Just irritation. The kind of irritation someone feels when reminded of a version of themselves they've already discarded.

Then he laughed.

Not the loud, genuine laugh from earlier. This was shorter. Sharper. A contemptuous exhale through his nose.

"You should be grateful," he said, his voice carrying the same flat certainty it had when he spoke the rejection vow, "that I kept you as long as I did. Given that you couldn't even shift."

He turned back to Mckenzie. Nodded once.

The warriors' grip on my arms tightened.

Mckenzie lifted the silver iron from the brazier. The metal glowed white-hot in the torchlight. Heat radiated from it in waves I could feel from where I stood.

She stepped closer. Close enough that I could see the exact shape of her smile. The way her eyes tracked over my face looking for fear.

"Kneel," she said.

I didn't move.

The warriors were still holding my arms. Mckenzie was standing three feet away with a heated iron. The entire pack was watching. Every wolf in the hall waiting to see what I would do.

I stood exactly where I was.

Not dramatically. Not defiantly. I simply did not kneel.

Mckenzie's smile faltered. Just slightly. Just enough that I could see the performance crack at its edges.

"I said kneel," she repeated. Louder this time. The command in her voice sharper.

I met her eyes. Held her gaze with the same stillness I'd maintained through three years of silent endurance. Through every dismissive comment. Every quiet insult. Every moment the pack looked at me and saw nothing worth respecting.

I did not kneel.

The hall was so quiet I could hear the brazier's flames crackling. Could hear someone's breathing near the back of the room. Could hear the faint rustle of fabric as wolves shifted their weight.

Mckenzie's performance required submission. Required me to lower myself before the pack so she could stand above me. So she could brand me while I was on my knees and every wolf present could witness my humiliation.

The submission wasn't coming.

She looked at Lawson. Her smile was gone now. Replaced by something harder. Something that needed his authority to function.

"Make her kneel," she said.

Lawson's eyes narrowed. He stepped forward. The Alpha tone in his voice was sharper than it had been all night.

"Kneel," he ordered.

The command hit me like a physical force. The Alpha tone—the one I used to think was attractive, the one that used to make my wolf respond with instinctive recognition—crashed against the wolfsbane cage where my wolf was screaming.

My knees didn't buckle. My head didn't lower.

I stood exactly where I was, arms held by warriors, and looked at my mate—my ex-mate, the bond still hemorrhaging in my chest—with the same quiet stillness I'd carried since the moment he walked into the hall with another woman's scent all over him.

Lawson's face darkened. He crossed the distance between us in three strides. His hand came up fast.

The backhand caught me across the mouth.

My head snapped to the side. Pain exploded across my jaw. I tasted copper. Blood.

The warriors' grip on my arms was the only thing that kept me standing.

And my wolf—

My wolf, who I'd kept buried under wolfsbane for three years, who I'd poisoned into silence every morning—

She detonated.

The wolfsbane cage shattered. Not cracked. Not weakened. Shattered.

My body locked. Every muscle went rigid. The warriors holding my arms stumbled backward as something inside me tore free with a force that made the stone floor crack beneath my feet.

My bones began to break.