The next morning, as I was having breakfast, Ryatt stormed into the room wearing his nightclothes, his face twisted in anger. He flipped the table over with a loud crash.

"Did you not prepare Rayne's and my clothes for today?" he snarled.

Back when I still loved him, I refused to let the Omegas handle his things, so I would wake up early every morning to lay out his clothes and shoes myself. He used to tease me, calling me a jealous little she-wolf.

But now that I no longer cared, I didn’t bother lifting a finger for him.

The bowls and cutlery shattered, and scalding soup splashed across my face, leaving angry red blisters in its wake.

Ryatt froze for a moment, then grabbed my arm roughly. "Are you an idiot? Why didn’t you dodge? You’re covered in soup—it’s disgusting."

He leaned in to inspect the burns, but Rayne’s voice called out from the bedroom.

"Ryatt, I can’t find the silver necklace from last night! It’s your fault—you kept putting it on and taking it off, and now I’m sore!"

Ryatt’s expression faltered, but he quickly turned toward the bedroom, urgency in his steps. Before leaving, he hesitated and muttered, "I’ll call the Healer for you later."

I wiped the soup off my clothes and brushed past him. "Don’t bother."

His face darkened. In the past, his concern would have made my heart flutter, but now I avoided him like the plague.

He glared at me, his tone sharp. "What’s your problem? You didn’t prepare my clothes this morning. What kind of Luna doesn’t do that? And now you’re giving me attitude because I accidentally spilled soup on you?"

"Alpha," I said, using his title coldly, "I’m not giving you attitude."

He grabbed my arm roughly, and I stumbled, falling into the pile of broken dishes. Shards of porcelain dug into my skin, and I winced in pain.

"Sister, what’s going on?" Rayne’s voice purred from the doorway. She had wrapped herself in a sheer robe and stepped out, her foot landing on my hand. The shards dug deeper, and I hissed as blood pooled in my palm.

"Oh, Ryatt, there’s the necklace!" Rayne pointed to the silver charm hanging from my waist, her tone mocking. "Looks like someone’s been lonely, hmm? No wonder you stole this little trinket while we were busy last night."

She leaned in, sniffing dramatically. "Hmm, I can still smell your scent on it. How scandalous! Who knew a respectable Luna like you could act like a little she-wolf in heat?"

My body trembled with rage, and I yanked the necklace off, hurling it at her. "Get out!"

"Ah! Ryatt, it hurts!" Rayne stumbled back into Ryatt’s arms, though the necklace was light and couldn’t have hurt her. She sobbed dramatically, her tears flowing freely.

"Ryatt, does your Luna hate me? I was just teasing her, trying to be friendly, but she got so angry."

Ryatt’s expression darkened, and his gaze turned icy as he looked at me. "Josephine, you’re just embarrassed because she called you out. You’re acting like a disgrace. Kneel and apologize to her, or you’ll strip and kneel in the courtyard under the sun as punishment!"

I knew he wouldn’t let this go unless I apologized. Clenching my teeth against the pain in my hand, I started to kneel.

"Today’s incident…" I began, but before I could finish, Rayne lunged at me. I stumbled back, grabbing her robe to steady myself.

Ryatt caught her before she could fall, and she clutched her chest, sobbing theatrically. "Sister, I just wanted to help you up, but I guess you’re still mad at me because Ryatt made you apologize."

"Enough!" Ryatt snapped, his Alpha tone sending a shiver through the room. "Josephine, you’re done here."

His words were final, and I knew there was no escaping his wrath.

Ryatt didn’t hesitate—his hand swung toward me with brutal force. The slap cracked through the air, and the momentum sent me sprawling onto the shattered pieces of a glass vase on the floor. Warm blood pooled beneath me, staining the tiles red. My ears rang, drowning out all sound.

He yanked me up by the collar, his Alpha aura radiating fury. “Josephine, get up! Stop pretending!” His voice was sharp, commanding, and laced with disgust. He barked at the nearby Omegas, “Take her outside. If she wants to act like she’s dead, let her kneel in the courtyard until she learns her place.”

Rayne stepped forward, her voice soft but laced with mock concern. “Ryatt, she’s still the daughter of the former Alpha. Don’t be too harsh on her. I can handle whatever she throws at me—I’ll endure it for you.” She cast a sidelong glance at me, her scent—a mix of rosemary and something bitter—filling the air.

Ryatt pulled her into his arms, his voice softening as he spoke to her. “You’re always so understanding, Rayne. Josephine may have been born into a high-ranking family, but she’s nothing compared to you. I only want you.” His words cut deeper than any physical blow.

The sounds of their laughter and whispered affection echoed behind me as I was dragged outside. I knelt in the courtyard, the cold ground biting into my knees, the pain crawling up my legs like a relentless tide. The Omegas nearby exchanged pitying glances, their whispers reaching my ears.

“Poor Josephine. She was once so respected, but without her father’s protection, she’s nothing now.”

“She’s got no mate to stand by her side, no pack to call her own. It’s tragic.”

“Shh! Do you want Ryatt to hear you? He’s not in the mood for sympathy.”

Their words twisted in my mind, stirring memories I’d tried to bury. Four years ago, Ryatt had been a rising star among the younger Alphas, his reputation untarnished. I’d overheard a group of Deltas mocking high-ranking she-wolves, their laughter crude and dismissive.

“Those high-ranking she-wolves are all the same—stiff, boring, like Josephine West. I’d rather have someone like Rayne.”

“They’re only good for one thing, anyway.”

Before my assistant, Lena, could intervene, Ryatt had stepped in, his Alpha tone cutting through their laughter. “Enough. You’re speaking out of line. Every she-wolf deserves respect, regardless of her rank.” His words had struck me then, and I’d foolishly believed he was different. I’d agreed to the mate bond, thinking I’d found someone who saw me for more than my lineage.

But on the night of our marking ceremony, he never came. I’d waited, the scent of lavender and pine—our shared mate bond—fading with every passing hour. I’d sewn his name into the hem of my dress, stitched his words into the fabric of my heart, but he’d never seen it. He’d never cared.

When I woke the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the windows, Ryatt was there, his dark hair tousled, the red mark on his nose standing out against his pale skin. He looked tired, but his eyes lit up when he saw me awake.

“Josephine, you’re up!” His voice was soft, almost tender, but his gaze flickered away, unable to meet mine. It wasn’t until Lena rushed in, her eyes red from crying, that I understood why.

“Josephine,” she whispered, “your face… the burn. It’s not healing properly. You might… you might have a scar.” Her voice trembled, and her anger toward Rayne was palpable.

Ryatt’s tone shifted instantly. “Lena, watch your tongue!” he snapped, his Alpha tone sharp and commanding.

I caught his arm, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “Leave her alone.” My words were quiet but firm, and for a moment, the room fell silent.