Five years ago, I bound my life to Charles Sterling, the golden wolf of Ferralon Town, in a sacred ceremony that felt like a dream.

Now, I'm standing in the ashes of that dream, trying to set up a bank deposit as a gift for my twin pups, Adrian and Ivy.

I thought it'd be a simple gesture, a way to secure their future.

But the clerk she wolf at the office shakes her head, her eyes cold as she slides my documents back across the counter.

"Sorry, ma'am," she says, "this account can only be handled by the pups' parents."

I blink, confused.

" I'm their mother."

Her gaze sharpens, almost pitying.

"The registry scrolls don't lie-Charles sired them, true enough. But their dam? Colette Fontaine. Not a drop of your blood in those cubs."

I go rigid, mind dissolving into static.

Colette-my own kin, Charles's fated first, the she-wolf his lunar core still thrums for.

The Sterlings and Fontaines? Blood feuds older than the moon, their claws rent through generations, ties severed long ago.

Yet these cubs-mine, after ten moons of carrying, after nearly bleeding out to birth them-are hers?

I head straight for Sterling council offices. My fingerprint gets me into the top-floor office, but the door's cracked open, and voices spill out. It's his Beta, his tone casual but sharp.

"Charles, Colette's slinking back into town tonight-you really think a welcome feast's wise? Your packs have been snapping at each other's throats. "

"I understand," Charles replies, his voice carrying a faint, imperceptible hoarseness,

"The Sterling code forbids binding with a Fontaine she-wolf. I'm bound now, a family wolf. Colette's just a friend."

"Friend?"

His beta laughs, bitter.

"When she fled overseas, you howled till your throat bled-moon-mad, vowing love died with her. "Settle," you grunted. But Isabel? Not kin. You chained her to your shadow because her scent mirrored Colette's, used moon-cursed science to plant your bloodline in her.  She's so devoted to them, she'd never suspect they're not hers."

I grip the edge of the table, my fingers digging into the polished wood until my knuckles burn.

"Honestly, I can almost summon a shred of pity for her," the beta drawls, his voice low enough to rattle like gravel in a hollow skull.

""She orbits you like a star caught in your gravitational pull, her devotion carved into her very bones-thinks you're the axis the pack's world spins on. If she ever sniffs out the truth? That she's nothing but a vessel to carry your bloodline, a warm body to tend your cubs without so much as a claim mark to her name? Her spirit'd shatter like a mirror under a full moon. "

Charles's voice drops, heavy with something like regret, but it's cold, too.

"I'll never let her find out. As compensation, she'll live as my Luna, envied by every she-wolf in the pack."

The world spins.

I reel from the building, sleet slashing my face like shards of ice.

The storm's fury hammers down-hailstones cracking against my skull, as memories claw through my veins.

Five years back, my parents lured me into a hotel room with lies. The wolf they'd planted there was ancient, his face a slack mask of leathered flesh, his breath reeking like carrion as he loomed closer. It was a snare-my own folks slipped something into my drink, ready to hand me over for a fifty-thousand-dollar dowry, all to prop up my brother's worthless hide.

I fought like hell, broke free, and crashed into a wolf's arms.

When he stepped closer, I lunged-half-crawling, half-collapsing into his shadow, my palms flattening against his chest as if his body might leach the fire from mine. "Please," I gasped, voice cracking into a whimper, "make it stop."

His brow knotted, muscles coiling like he might fling me off in an instant-but then his gaze hit my face. Something black and hungry flickered in his eyes, a storm unloosed. "I can fix this," he grated, voice sandpaper-rough.​

"But it costs. I crave a she-wolf I can never claim. You. you're her shadow made flesh. Let me ease the fire, and you'll wear my mark. Be her when I need it. Deal?"

The words sliced through the fog-sharp, brutal, clear.

I wasn't chattel to be bartered, not even for survival.

My jaw tightened, tongue coiling to spit "no"-until I met his gaze.​

Charles. The wolf I'd ached for in silence, the pack's sun made flesh, now staring at me like I held the moon in my palms. My resolve splintered.​

"Deal," I breathed, the word bleeding from my lips before I could stop it.

His hand gripped the back of my neck, and his kiss fell like soft rain. I knew I was a substitute, but it was Charles, so I let myself fall.

Soon after, he gave me a binding ceremony that dazzled the whole pack.

Five years-he played the devoted mate so flawlessly, even the pack elders whispered of his devotion. What other she-wolves scraped for, I drowned in. Relics from moonlit hunts, hoarded for centuries? Laid at my feet.​

When our cubs quickened in my womb, he shredded billion-dollar contracts without a second glance. His hands-calloused from clawing through underbrush, steady as stone during pack trials-gentled over my belly, stirring broth with the care. He never missed a healer's moonrise check, his voice rumbling low as he spoke to them.

They arrived, and suddenly he'd tear himself from work, no matter the hour, to tuck them in. I let myself believe-foolishly-that love for them had spilled over, that I was no longer just Colette's ghost. That time had finally softened him, turned his gaze to me.

But no. He loved their mother, yes. Just not me. Colette was the one. I? A hollow thing. A means to an end.

The rain soaks me through as I sob, but I still call the housekeeper to fetch Adrian and Ivy from their piano lesson.

They're not mine, not by blood, but I've raised them, loved them, given them every piece of me for five years.

They're my heart.

Now, knowing the truth, I don't know how to face them.

I stumble home, drenched.

"Mommy's home!" Ivy trills, her tiny feet pattering across the floor.

"Mommy's dripping! Hurry and change, or you'll catch a chill!" Adrian pipes up, his brows furrowed like a little grown-up.

My throat tightens, tears burning behind my eyes.

"Don't worry-" I start, but a scream cuts me off.

The pups shove me, hard.

I'm not ready for it, and I tumble down the stairs, my forehead splitting open, blood dripping as pain blinds me. I collapse, the world fading.

"Mommy! Mommy, open your eyes! Please!" Adrian's voice shakes, thick with panic. He drops to his knees beside me, his little fingers brushing my cheek hesitantly, like he's scared I'll break.

"The blood... it won't stop. Don't go to sleep, okay? I can't... I can't let you. Now she won't stop us from going to Colette's welcome feast!" Adrian cheers.

"Daddy, hurry up! Colette's the best-let's go find her, please?!" Ivy begs, her tone syrupy sweet but sharp as a pin.

I force my eyes open a sliver.

Charles is there, his brow barely creased before his face smooths out.

"See to my mate," he murmurs to the staff, then curls his fingers around the kids' wrists and starts toward the door.

"Remember what I said," he tells them, voice steady as stone, "when it's Colette or your mother, Colette comes first. Always. But try not to be so blunt next time."

Adrian huffs, a little sneer twisting his mouth. "Why bother? She's just a silly placeholder. We lie to her all the time-some dumb story'll make her forget. She always does."

"Yeah," Ivy giggles, her eyes bright with a cruelty too sharp for a child. "If Colette could be our real mommy, I wouldn't mind one bit if she just... vanished. Or worse."

Their voices trail off as the door clicks shut, not a single glance over their shoulders. I lie there, blood seeping into the carpet, tears carving hot paths down my cheeks, when a cracked, bitter laugh bursts from me.

This is the mate I loved until my bones ached. These are the children I built my world around for years. They were never mine.

The healer mends the gash on my temple, and I burst through the study door, hands shaking as I sink into the chair, ready to type up the bond-breaking papers.

I'm finished. Get Charles to sign, then I'm gone-cutting loose from a life that was never mine, not really.

The screen glows to life, and I go rigid, fingers hovering over the keys. Staring back is the wallpaper: a snapshot from Adrian and Ivy's third birthday. My twins, sticky with frosting, perched on my lap, their small hands tangled in my hair like I was their anchor. The photographer bribed them with candy, sang off-key, but they wouldn't tear their eyes from me.

Their wide, trusting gazes, brimming with adoration, stayed fixed on my face, their grins gap-toothed and bright. And Charles. he stood behind us, his palm warm on my shoulder, his smile soft as if we were the best thing he'd ever known.

I blink, and the memory warps.

I meet Charles's eyes, that same tender look he had when he persuaded me to go through with the lab procedure.​

"I want us to have both a cub and a she-cub," he murmured, his voice warm as a hearth,​

"but carrying two at once would be too much for you. I couldn't bear to see you suffer like that. Let's do it this way-get it over with in one go."

I trusted him, hook, line, and sinker.​

The day I found out I was with child-imagining those little ones sharing our blood-I broke down in happy sobs. Even when the sickness clawed at my throat morning till night, when my belly swelled so big it felt like I was carrying years of weight instead of months, I didn't mind a bit. And when those pups clung to me, keeping me up two full years with never a full night's rest? My heart stayed soft as down for them, every second.

I grew up in a shambles, so I bled love into my pups. "Mommy's our whole world!" they'd cry.​

Four changed everything. Charles got them a Favalon tutor-then the slow rot. "House-she-wolf," they hissed. "Dumb."

They'd grumble, then turn around and charm me with sweet apologies, and I'd melt.

I thought they were just young, that it was harmless.

But after they pushed me down the stairs today, it hit me like a fang to the gut: the pups I love like my own soul look down on me from the depths of their little hearts.

That cozy photo, that warm family bond-it's all a mirage.

I snap out of it and print the bond-breaking papers, my hands moving fast. I'm about to shut down the computer when a notification blinks in the corner.

Charles left in such a rush he forgot to log out of some secret account-one I never knew about.

I click, and my stomach twists.

It's all about Colette.

Every post, every file, every memory-her.

She's their online Favalon tutor. Charles has been feeding Adrian and Ivy lies, telling them Colette's amazing, while I'm just a clumsy fool.

The latest video shows him renting out an entire island, surrounded by his closest packmates, all to welcome Colette back. My pups are there, clinging to her like she's their moon.

""Colette! You're blinding-videos don't do you justice, they make you look like you're wrapped in fog!" " Adrian says, his voice bright.

"Yeah, Colette's way better than Mommy at everything. I love you so much!" Ivy chimes in, her words slicing me open.

Charles doesn't stop them.

His hand hovers by Colette's waist, a breath's pause, then curls around it-slow, deliberate, like he's finally closing his jaws around the prize he's chased.

There they are, a pack of four, seamless as a well-gnawed bone.

And me? The stray she-wolf, unwanted.

That night, Charles comes back with the pups.

"Mommy, I didn't mean to push you," Adrian says, his eyes wide and innocent.

"Yeah, it was an accident. Don't be mad, okay?"

Ivy adds, her voice sugary sweet.

But I just nod, my face blank, not giving them a single smile.

They freeze, confused.

Charles raises an eyebrow, stepping closer to brush his hand across my cheek.

"Still hurting?"

I flinch, but I'm not fast enough.

His touch makes my skin crawl, knowing those same hands held Colette's waist. My stomach lurches, and I gag, unable to stop it.

Charles's face darkens.

"Pregnant again?" he says, his tone sharp.

"This is the second time you've 'accidentally' gotten pregnant. We took precautions. What's with all these coincidences? Did you plan this?"

"I told you before, another pup would split your attention. Adrian and Ivy need all your love."

He grabs my arm, pulling me toward the healer's kit to check.

I lurch, sending a clay jug crashing to the floor. It splinters, jagged shards slicing into my already battered haunches-old scrapes from last moon's run, now reopened.

Pain shoots through me, but Charles doesn't even notice.

I was pregnant once before, when the pups were four.

I was thrilled, ready to welcome another life.

But Charles shut it down.

"You went through hell last time," he said.

"I can't watch you suffer again. Let's not keep it."

Adrian and Ivy threw tantrums, saying they didn't want a sibling, and I gave in, tears streaming as I lost my pup.

Charles took time off to care for me, his voice soft as he said,

"We've got our twin pups. Don't be sad."

I thought he was keeping me safe, shielding me from harm.

Now the scent of it hits me-he never fretted over my well-being.

What he feared was his prized cubs, once they bonded with Colette, splitting the warmth I gave them.

That's all it was: greed for their full devotion, no crumbs left for me.

Flashback

I stare at the pregnancy report and let out a bitter laugh.

Charles can breathe easy now-no pup of ours will come into this world.

Good thing, too, because I don't want it anymore.

Charles exhales, his tone softening.

"Isabel," he said, his voice low as a growl held back, "I can't bear the thought of you enduring that trial again. The scent of your weariness lingered for moons after-let it stay gone." His gaze flickered to the door, where the cubs' laughter echoed. "Adrian and Ivy are all our pack needs. No more strain, no more ache. Just... this."

What a hypocrite.

"Appreciate the care," I say, voice as cool as a moonlit pelt.​

His brows lift, a flicker of confusion crossing his features-like a wolf catching an unfamiliar scent. "Why the frost in your tone?"​

Frost? I'm an outsider in my own den. How else was I supposed to sound?​

I pause, then pivot, pulling a folded sheet from my pocket. The bond-sunder papers crinkle faintly.

"Fine. I'm buying a shop space."

It's the first time I've ever asked for anything.

Charles hesitates, sensing something's off, but before he can read the contract closely, I cut in, my voice icy.

"What, you can't part with it?"

He signs without another word.

His mate wants something? He'd never hold back.

I take the papers, one weight off my chest. Outside, I hear Adrian and Ivy whispering.

"Mom's not actually gonna have another cub, right? She's so addled-what if it turns out a dullard like her?"

Adrian grumbles, nose wrinkling like he's caught a foul scent.​

Ugh, exactly," Ivy snorts, voice sharp as a snapped branch.

"She only got lucky with us-we're the good ones. I don't want a mom that's such a hassle. All that moping, like she can't keep up with our kind."

They'll get their wish soon enough.

One month from now, when these papers take effect, I won't be their mom anymore.

The next day, I don't drag myself out of bed like usual.

I leave the pups and Charles to the staff.

Big mistake-everything falls apart.

Adrian's fussy beyond reason-he'll only eat what I cook.

The staff turn out a dozen morning plates, and he won't so much as nibble.

Ivy can't stand the plaits they fumble with, but with no time to redo them, she storms off to preschool, lower lip jutting.

Then a wolf rushes to me, flustered.

"Ma'am, how do I pair the pocket square with Mr. Sterling's new blazer? The subtle pattern's tricky-I've tried three folds, and he's still unsatisfied."

"Grab the linen one from the second wardrobe, top shelf, left compartment. And the gold tie bar from the fourth wardrobe, middle drawer, velvet tray-it'll catch the pattern without clashing."

Soon after, Charles strides into the bedroom, looking every inch the alpha in that perfectly matched suit.

He leans against the doorframe, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

"What's with the strike?"

"I'm not feeling well," I say, not meeting his gaze.

His expression shifts as he remembers yesterday-my fall, the blood, all thanks to him and the pups.

Guilt flashes across his face.

"Rest up," he says, backing off.

With me "on strike," the house descends into chaos.

The staff stick to my meal plans, but Adrian insists the food's off-he's shed pounds in a matter of days.

They attempt to plait Ivy's hair the way I do, but she either cries out in discomfort or her plaits come undone by noon, leaving her sniffling.

Charles, who never fussed over the little things, now stumbles over every tiny detail-schedules, outfits, meals. It's driving him to distraction.

He even snaps at the staff, which isn't like him.

"You can't handle the simplest things!"

The staff tiptoe around, and I just find it laughable.

Maybe to Charles, I'm just a stay-at-home she-wolf, doing meaningless, replaceable work. He doesn't know how many hours I spent tweaking recipes to get Adrian to eat just a little more. How I watched nearly a thousand videos, practicing until I could make them pretty, sturdy, and gentle on Ivy's hair.

How I took design and art classes, studied aesthetics, just to match his picky taste and be the perfect mate by his side.

Those "small" things?

They're woven with every bit of love I had.

They took it all for granted, never seeing it for what it was.

Never seeing me-not just a mate or a mom, but Isabel.

Soon, I'll just be me again.

After days of chaos, Charles finally senses something's wrong.

"We need to talk," he says one morning, his fingers tapping the bedside table.

"Did you hear something?"

Yeah, the pack's a small world. Gossip travels fast.

Charles has been parading Colette around-auctions, galas, you name it.

The rare treasures that used to be mine? They're hers now.

She mentions she's not used to local architecture, and he hands her the keys to his Vaelin-style estate. She talks about starting a career, and he buys her a top-tier private conservatory in Ferralon Town to run as director.

He's done all this, yet has the nerve to tell me,

"Don't read into it so much. Colette's just a friend, that's all."

"Even if you're bitter or riled up at me, the kids are innocent. You're shaking up their lives. What, you don't want to be their mom anymore?"

I meet his gaze, unflinching. "You're right. I'm done being their mom."