Alessia POV:

Santino’s warning tore through the grand hall, carrying a bone-chilling coldness that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

The invisible weight of his Alpha aura pressed against my chest. My lungs were being squeezed tight, forcing the oxygen out in shallow, burning gasps.

I swallowed the metallic tang of blood pooling in my mouth. My brain raced, analyzing the variables.

The suppressant was at its peak concentration in my bloodstream. Fighting back physically right now was a tactical error. The royal survival code pounded in my head: endure, calculate, and strike only when the advantage is absolute. Pride without power was just stupidity.

Slowly, deliberately, I loosened my death grip on the oak banister. My fingers ached as they uncurled from the wood.

I bowed my head. I let my chin drop toward my chest, breaking eye contact with his glowing, blood-red stare. I let my shoulders slump just a fraction, mimicking the physical posture of a submitted wolf.

Santino let out a harsh, satisfied scoff. The suffocating pressure in the room vanished in a split second.

The air rushed back in. Below me, the maids gasped loudly, dragging oxygen into their lungs as they slowly pushed themselves up from the floor.

I took a small step backward, moving to the far edge of the landing. I pressed my back against the wall, leaving the center of the staircase wide open.

Santino didn't waste another second. He wrapped his arm tightly around Valentina’s waist and marched toward the stairs. He walked with heavy, arrogant steps, wearing the pride of a conqueror.

They reached the top landing. As they passed me, Valentina suddenly shifted her weight. She leaned into my space and slammed her shoulder hard against mine.

My body was still trembling from the drug and the physical exertion. The impact knocked me off balance. My heel slipped on the edge of the carpet. I stumbled backward, my hand flailing out to catch the wall just before I tipped down the steps.

Santino didn't even turn his head. He didn't check to see if I had fallen. He just kept walking down the hallway.

I pushed myself off the wall. I stood perfectly still, watching their retreating backs.

Santino stopped in front of the largest guest suite, the one located directly next to our master bedroom. He reached out and pushed the heavy door open for her.

My expression was entirely blank. But deep inside my chest, a heavy iron door slammed shut. The three-year sentence I had served in this marriage was officially over. I pronounced it dead.

I turned on my heel and walked in the opposite direction, heading straight for my private study at the far end of the corridor.

I stepped inside and pushed the door shut. I turned the deadbolt. The heavy click of the lock sealed me off from the rest of the house.

My legs finally gave out. I stumbled toward the leather sofa in the center of the room and collapsed onto the cushions. My limbs felt like lead.

I lay there in the silence. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked the hours away. Outside the window, the bright afternoon sun slowly faded into a bruised purple twilight, and then into pitch black.

The automated security lights of the territory flickered on, casting long shadows across the lawn.

I sat up. The worst of the drug’s immediate fatigue had passed. My breathing was steady again.

The room felt stuffy. I stood up and walked over to the wall panel, hitting the switch to open the central air conditioning vents.

A rush of cool air blew down from the ceiling grate. But it wasn't the crisp, clean scent of pine and fresh linen I was used to.

A thick, nauseating wave of cheap, rotting peach perfume poured out of the vent. The central system was circulating the air from her room into mine.

My stomach violently rebelled. I slapped my hand over my mouth, gagging hard.

I slammed my hand against the control panel, shutting the vent completely.

The silence returned, but the smell lingered. It was a physical violation. A werewolf’s scent marks their territory. Smelling her in my locked sanctuary meant my home was already gone.

I walked over to the heavy mahogany desk. I pressed the power button on the computer.

The screen flickered to life, casting a harsh blue glow over my pale, cold face. I typed in the encrypted password for the territory’s master financial system.

The dashboard loaded. I moved the mouse, navigating straight to the fund withdrawal and transfer page.

"Since you like providing for someone else, use your own money."

Alessia POV:

I stared at the glowing screen, watching the columns of numbers that kept the Silver Creek pack afloat. The click of my mouse was sharp and loud in the quiet study.

I navigated to my private royal trust fund. For three years, it had been set to automatically inject massive amounts of capital into the pack's public accounts every single month. I moved the cursor over the active status. I clicked the button and changed it to paused.

The screen blinked, confirming the severed financial tie. I leaned back in the leather chair. My throat felt like sandpaper.

I pushed myself up from the desk. I unlocked the study door and stepped out into the hallway. I needed a glass of cold water from the kitchen.

The corridor was dark and entirely still. Only the small brass wall sconces cast dim, yellow pools of light against the floorboards.

I walked barefoot. My toes sank into the thick, plush carpet. As a wolf, moving silently was second nature. I didn't make a single sound.

I reached the top of the stairs and began to descend. Halfway down, my ears twitched. I caught a strange noise coming from the first-floor kitchen.

It was a soft, high-pitched gasp, immediately followed by a giggling, hushed laugh.

My right foot froze over the next step.

I lowered my foot slowly. I pressed my body close to the wall and crept down the remaining stairs. I moved toward the kitchen. The heavy wooden sliding doors were pushed open just a few inches.

The main overhead lights were off. The only illumination came from a single, warm spotlight directly above the marble island in the center of the room.

I stopped a foot away from the gap. I looked through the narrow opening.

Valentina was sitting on the edge of the cold marble counter. She was wearing a short, black silk robe that barely covered her thighs.

Santino was standing directly between her parted knees. His head was bowed.

His large, calloused hands were wrapped around her bare ankles. His thumbs were pressing into her skin, moving in slow, rhythmic circles, rubbing the tension out of her muscles.

My breath caught in my throat. This wasn't just a massage. This was grooming. It was a deeply instinctual, intimate act reserved exclusively for mated pairs to soothe each other. When I had sprained my ankle a year ago, he had sat on the floor and done exactly that for me. Now, he was performing our sacred ritual on a stray.

A wave of pure, concentrated nausea slammed into my stomach. Acid burned the back of my throat.

I squeezed my eyes shut. My fists clenched so tight my nails cut into my palms. I fought the overwhelming urge to kick the door off its tracks and rip her throat out.

Instead, I took a slow breath. I closed my eyes and focused my energy inward. I located the mental channel in my brain—the mate link that connected my mind to his.

The link hummed to life, a low vibration in my skull.

*Take your hands off her,* I sent the thought through the link. My mental voice was made of absolute ice.

Through the crack in the door, I saw Santino’s entire body jerk. His hands froze on her ankles. His head snapped up, and he looked frantically around the dim kitchen.

Valentina tilted her head, her fake pout returning. "Santino? What's wrong?" she asked softly.

Santino didn't answer her out loud. Instead, his voice exploded inside my head through the mind link.

*Are you creeping around in the dark watching me like a ghost?* he snarled mentally. *Your jealousy is pathetic, Alessia. Go back to your room!*

I stared through the gap. My eyes were dead.

While his mind was shouting insults at me, his body was doing something else entirely. His hands didn't leave her skin.

Instead, his palms slid slowly upward, moving from her ankles, tracing the curve of her calves, his fingers digging into the soft flesh behind her knees.

Valentina let out a wet, sweet moan, arching her back slightly.

I listened to his arrogant, defensive lies in my head while watching his hands violate our marriage vows in real time. A slow, cruel smirk pulled at the corner of my mouth.

"Don't touch me with the hands that just touched her."

Alessia POV:

I severed the mind link instantly, cutting off whatever lie Santino was about to project into my head. I turned away from the kitchen door and walked back to the stairs.

I climbed the steps quickly, my bare feet silent on the carpet. I entered the master bedroom and pushed the heavy door shut. I threw the deadbolt, the loud, solid *clack* echoing in the room.

I walked to the center of the room. The nausea in my stomach was a physical weight, twisting my guts into knots.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. I sank into my own consciousness, searching for the golden thread of the mate bond.

There it was. It pulsed faintly in the dark space of my mind. Three years ago, when we stood before the pack and swore our vows, that thread had flared bright like a sun. I had looked at it and believed it was my anchor, my only true home in this world. Now, looking at it, it just looked dirty. Coated in the filth of his betrayal.

I didn't hesitate. I reached deep into the core of my being and summoned the dormant mental energy of the white wolf. I gathered that raw, ancient power and forged it into a sharp, jagged blade in my mind.

I swung the mental blade down, striking the golden thread with maximum force.

A sharp, violent *crack* exploded inside my skull. It sounded exactly like a thick pane of glass shattering into a thousand pieces.

The golden thread didn't break entirely, but a massive, jagged fissure ripped right through the center of it.

The physical backlash hit me like a freight train.

My knees gave out instantly. I crashed onto the thick rug. My hands flew to my chest, my fingers digging desperately into the fabric of my dress right over my heart. It felt like someone had driven a hot spike through my ribs.

I gasped for air, my mouth open wide. Cold sweat burst from my pores, soaking the back of my dress in seconds.

I stayed on my hands and knees, staring at the floor fibers. But as the blinding pain slowly ebbed, a new sensation washed over me. The suffocating pressure that had lived in my chest for three years was lighter. My eyes snapped up, bright and fiercely clear. I felt the first true taste of freedom.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Santino’s body gave a sudden, violent shiver. But his Alpha senses were dulled by lust. He didn't recognize the structural damage to his soul. He just pulled Valentina closer, blaming the chill on the night wind.

I pushed myself up from the floor. My muscles ached, but my movements were purposeful. I walked straight to the massive walk-in closet.

I grabbed his dark gray silk pillow off his side of the shelf.

I unlocked the bedroom door, yanked it open, and threw the pillow out into the hallway like a bag of garbage. It hit the opposite wall and slid to the floor.

I slammed the door and locked it again.

That night, the doorknob never turned. Santino stayed in the guest room.

I lay in the center of the massive bed. The space beside me was empty and cold. I closed my eyes and fell into the deepest, most peaceful sleep I had experienced in years.

When I woke, the morning sun was streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting bright rectangles of light across the duvet.

I opened my eyes. My vision was sharp. My mind was completely clear.

I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My gaze landed on the nightstand. The little plastic bottle of white suppressant pills sat right where I had left it.

It was time for my morning dose.

I reached out and picked up the bottle. The plastic rattled softly against my palm.

I didn't unscrew the cap. I stood up and walked over to the stainless steel trash can in the corner of the room.

I held my hand out over the open bin. I opened my fingers.

The bottle dropped. It hit the metal bottom with a loud, hollow *clatter*.

I turned my back on the trash can and walked into the bathroom. As I turned on the shower, I felt my heart rate speed up. The blood in my veins began to pump with a heavier, wilder rhythm. The three-year seal on the white wolf was officially broken.

"Game over."