Escaping the Wrong Mate for the Right One

The scream came first—my own. It ripped through the room, raw and violent, before I even understood what had happened. My face seared, my skin blistering as though invisible flames crawled beneath it. I clawed blindly at my cheeks, at my eyes, but every frantic touch only deepened the agony.

Somewhere beyond the fire consuming me, Sylvie cried out, “Mommy!”

Her voice was so sharp with terror that it cut through the haze.

I staggered toward her, half-blind, and heard the sound of another vial shattering at her feet. Her cry was shrill, desperate. She collapsed to the floor, clutching her ankle as angry red burns blossomed along her fragile skin.

Above us, laughter.

A boy’s cruel jeer. A girl’s sneering delight.

“She looks hideous now,” Haley spat.

“Monster suits her better,” Theron added coldly.

Through the blur of pain, I forced my gaze upward. They stood there together—Hannah’s children, my stepchildren—gloating, mocking, watching us suffer as though it were sport.

But this hadn’t begun with fire.

Earlier that evening, I had fastened the moonstone earring onto my ear, feeling its faint glow like a heartbeat against my skin. The day should have been radiant—a double celebration. Theron’s ceremony as heir, and my Sylvie’s seventh birthday. Instead, I’d chosen rebellion.

I slipped into the forbidden gown, its embroidery woven with the emblem of my old pack. In the mirror, I had glimpsed not the broken shell I’d become, but the woman I might have been—strong, free, unbowed.

Sylvie had hummed beside me, ribbons tangled in her doll’s hair, her soft tune filling the silence. My smile then had been real, fragile but defiant. I should have known peace could not last here.

The memory shattered as something heavy cracked against my forehead. My body lurched, knees buckling, warm blood running down into the poison already burning across my face. I blinked through the stinging haze to see what struck me—wolfsbane.

My rage snapped loose.

“You—you actually used wolfsbane on us?! Have you lost your minds?!”

I lunged for Theron, seizing his arm. His composure vanished; panic spilled out in his shrill voice.

“Let go, you hag! Don’t touch me!”

Haley darted forward, her teeth sinking into my hand like a feral pup.

“He’s the future Alpha! You’re nothing! Don’t you dare touch him!”

Instinct overtook me. I shoved them both. Hard. Haley struck the ground with a sickening thud, blood pooling as she screamed. Theron dropped to her side, his face twisting with fury.

“You vile witch!” His voice cracked, but the venom in it was real. “I wish you had died instead of our mother!”

His words tore open old scars I’d tried to bury. Hannah—my stepsister, their mother—had once saved me. I had sworn before the Moon Goddess to raise her children as if they were my own. And yet, no matter how I tried, they never were. Not truly.

Behind me, Sylvie’s quiet sobs filled the room, her burned leg trembling beneath her small hands.

The door burst open. Mirelle swept in with servants trailing, her gaze darting first to Theron, then to Haley bleeding on the floor. Fury twisted her face as she turned on me.

“Lyra! What have you done?!”

“They threw wolfsbane!” I spat, my voice shaking with outrage. “On me—and on Sylvie!”

The word alone should have silenced the room. Wolfsbane—the most forbidden of poisons. Its use was punishable by death. Yet Theron lowered his head and whimpered, false guilt dripping from his voice.

“We didn’t mean to… we didn’t know…”

I glared at him. “You expect them to believe I poisoned my own daughter?!”

But Mirelle would not meet my eyes. Instead, she bent protectively over Theron. “He probably thought it was perfume. He only wanted you to look presentable for the ceremony. He’s just a boy.”

“And Sylvie isn’t just a child too?” My voice cracked, fierce and sharp. “He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing. I’ll bring this to the council—he deserves punishment!”

“What punishment?”

The words cut through the air like a blade.

Alpha Rowan stood at the threshold. My former betrothed. The father of the children who had just tried to destroy me. The man who had chosen Hannah instead of me.

His gaze slid over me like ice before narrowing on my gown. His jaw clenched.

“I told you not to wear that. You are not to appear like this at the ceremony.”

“I wore what I should,” I answered, fury vibrating beneath my skin. “But they destroyed everything.”

Rowan’s attention shifted to Theron, who whimpered again, clutching his arm pitifully.

“It was just an accident,” he murmured.

“You’ll blame children now?” Mirelle snapped, glaring at me. “Look at you, dressed in rags you had no right to wear. If it were me, I’d have thrown acid at you myself!”

Rowan didn’t even flinch at her venom. His voice was cold, dismissive.

“Clean yourself up. The visiting alphas will be here shortly. I will not let them see you in this state.”

His eyes swept over me one final time, as though I were nothing but an inconvenience. My temple still bled, my skin blistered, my daughter whimpered in pain. And still, none of them saw her. None of them saw me.

I straightened my spine, my voice steady, unshakable.

“No.”

Rowan stilled. His brow arched. “What did you just say?”

“I’ve had enough,” I declared, the words iron on my tongue. “I have cared for your children as if they were mine, and all they’ve ever given me in return is cruelty. And now they’ve harmed my daughter. I will not remain here another moment. I’m done.”

His frown deepened, irritation flashing in his eyes. “You’re being dramatic. You’ll still stand beside Theron tonight. Stop this nonsense.”

“This isn’t some act!” I roared, the fury clawing its way out of me. “I bled for you. I stood by you. I gave you every piece of myself. And what did you do?” My voice cracked like a whip, each word a wound. “You tore it all away—every single thing I ever valued.”

My chest heaved, but my resolve was unshakable. I met their eyes, unflinching.

“Not anymore. Not this time.”

I straightened, a bitter finality lacing my voice.

“I’m done. I’m walking away. And you’ll never break me again.”