Chapter 2

The phone barely rang once before Damien's voice thundered through the speaker.

"Celeste fucking Moonborn." His tone was deadly calm. "Did you just call me because you're bored?"

At the Blackwood Industries headquarters, every Alpha in the boardroom froze. Nobody had ever heard Damien Blackwood speak with such rage.

"I spent eight years watching you pine after that worthless excuse of an Alpha. Eight years of you telling me we were 'just friends' while you played house with him. And now you call me?"

Celeste's chest tightened. She'd forgotten how raw his voice could sound when he was truly angry.

"You think I'm some backup plan you can activate when your first choice fails?"

"Damien, I—"

"Shut up." The words cracked like a whip. "I moved three states away because of you. I haven't touched any she-wolf in four years because of you. And you call me like I'm some fucking consolation prize?"

The silence stretched between them, heavy with years of rejection and pain.

"One month," he finally said. "Clean up your mess. After that, I'm coming to collect what you threw away. And this time, little wolf, you don't get to break me again."

The line went dead.

Later that night, she moved through Marcus's house like a ghost, methodically erasing every trace of their failed bond. The rejection papers were safely locked in the safe, along with her resignation letter. She'd burned their mating ceremony photos, watching as the flames consumed her younger, hopeful face.

The front door slammed shut downstairs, and she heard Marcus's heavy footsteps on the stairs.

"Celeste?" His voice echoed through the house. "What's that smell?"

She quickly closed the fireplace screen and turned to face him as he entered the study. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair mussed, and he smelled like Raven's perfume.

"Just burning some old documents," she said, keeping her voice steady.

His eyes narrowed as he spotted the ash on the hearth. "What kind of documents?"

"Financial records. Tax forms from years ago. Things we don't need anymore."

Marcus stepped closer, his gaze suspicious. But before he could interrogate her further, a sound from upstairs made them both freeze.

"Marcus! Help me!"

Raven's scream pierced the night. Marcus abandoned Celeste instantly, racing toward the sound.

Celeste followed, dread pooling in her stomach.

She found them in the nursery—the room they'd prepared for their lost pup. Raven was on the floor, surrounded by shattered wood and torn fabric. The crib Celeste had lovingly assembled was destroyed, the mobile she'd hand-painted scattered in pieces.

"I'm so sorry," Raven sobbed, reaching for Marcus. "I came to see the nursery because I wanted to help you both heal from your loss. But when I saw all these baby things... I just broke down."

She gestured to the destruction around her. "I got so emotional thinking about your poor dead pup that I accidentally knocked everything over. I tried to catch the crib but it all just... fell apart."

Marcus knelt beside her, pulling her into his arms. "It's okay. You were just trying to help."

Celeste stared at the wreckage. The crib had taken her weeks to build by hand. The mobile had been painted with tiny wolves and moons, each one a prayer for their unborn child. The rocking chair had been her grandmother's, passed down through generations.

All of it was destroyed.

"I feel so terrible," Raven continued, her tears soaking into Marcus's shirt. "Maybe... maybe it's better this way? You can start fresh now. Have a real nursery for your future pups."

The implication was clear. Future pups with her, not Celeste.

Marcus's eyes hardened as he looked at his mate. "She's right. This room has just been a shrine to grief. It's not healthy."

Celeste's voice came out as a whisper. "That was our pup's room."

"Our pup is dead!" he roared. "This junk is just a reminder of failure. Get rid of it. All of it. Tonight."

"I said clean it up, Celeste!" Marcus snapped when she didn't move. "All of it! I want every piece of this garbage out of my house by tomorrow morning!"

Chapter 3

Celeste wasn't surprised by Marcus's cruelty anymore. He'd always chosen Raven over everything else—including their dead pup's memory.

She'd expected this moment eventually. The only surprise was how little it hurt now.

"Alright," she said simply.

Marcus froze, clearly expecting tears or pleading. He'd thrown out those harsh words in anger, expecting her to fight back so he could play the victim.

But Celeste just called the pack servants to clear out the destroyed nursery. They carried every broken piece to the garden and burned it all.

Everything that had represented their future turned to ash.

"I feel terrible about staying here," Raven said, though her smile suggested otherwise. "Maybe I should find a hotel?"

"Nonsense," Marcus replied quickly. "You're family. Stay as long as you need."

He turned to Celeste. "Move your things to the guest room on the first floor. Raven can have the the Luna suite."

Since Raven had "nowhere else to go" after her European adventure, Marcus offered her the Luna suite—the rooms that should have been Celeste's by right.

"Of course," Celeste agreed without hesitation. "I'll have the servants prepare it immediately."

She even personally arranged for Raven's favorite silk sheets and had the room filled with red roses, then quietly moved her own belongings to the small servant's quarters in the basement.

As she packed her few remaining possessions downstairs,Marcus appeared in the doorway.

"You're being awfully understanding about this," he said, arms crossed. "I know you're upset about Raven staying here."

He stepped closer, his voice softening slightly. "Look, about the nursery... maybe I was too harsh. When you're feeling better, we can talk about trying again. For a pup. I mean."

He reached for her, expecting the usual embrace—but she stepped away.

"I'm not upset," she said, meeting his eyes with startling clarity. "You've made your priorities clear. I respect that."

Marcus's face hardened. He wasn't used to this version of his mate—calm, distant, unaffected by his moods.

"What was that document you had me sign yesterday?" he asked suspiciously.

"A gift," Celeste replied. "For our fourth mating anniversary. You'll understand soon enough."

That seemed to satisfy him. He still thought she was just going through a phase, that she'd come crawling back once Raven got settled.

"Get some rest," he said. "Tomorrow's the pack meeting. I'll need you to handle the financial presentations."

As he moved to leave, he held out his arms for their usual goodnight embrace. But Celeste walked past him without a glance.

Something was different about her. He just couldn't figure out what.

For four years, Marcus had been decent enough to her. He'd provided for her, protected her, even showed her affection—when Raven wasn't around. There had been moments when she'd almost believed they could make it work.

But every single time Raven appeared, he abandoned her without a second thought.

Celeste had loved him. Truly. But she was tired of fighting for scraps of attention from her own mate.

At 2 AM, Celeste was ripped from sleep by claws digging into her arms. She was dragged upstairs and thrown against the wall, her healing injuries screaming in protest.

"I knew you were jealous, but poisoning Raven with wolfsbane? That's attempted murder, Celeste."

Marcus's voice was deadly calm—the tone he used before ordering executions.

Through her dazed vision, she saw Raven on the bed, writhing and gasping. Her skin was flushed, her pupils dilated, and silver burns were appearing on her arms where she'd touched the doorframe.

"I didn't poison anyone!" Celeste gasped.

"You gave me that herbal tea," Raven sobbed. "Said it would help me sleep. Now I'm burning from the inside out!"

Celeste's mind sharpened instantly. "I offered you chamomile tea from the communal pot. We all drank from it tonight—why is no one else affected?"

"And why would I poison you with wolfsbane? I'd be executed for that!"

But Raven just cried harder. "If she says I'm lying, then maybe I am. Maybe I poisoned myself just to get attention."

The manipulation was masterful. Celeste felt like she was fighting smoke.

Marcus's eyes blazed with fury. "Enough. This isn't the first time you've done something like this. You know exactly what happened four years ago."

The accusation hit like a blow.

"You really think someone with a history like yours deserves the benefit of the doubt?"

One sentence. That was all it took to convict her.

"I'll say it one more time," Celeste said through gritted teeth. "I did not drug you four years ago."

The night they'd mated, she'd found Marcus alone and drunk after Raven's departure. Someone had already slipped him something—aphrodisiac herbs mixed with alcohol.

Yes, she'd loved him. Yes, things had spiraled out of control. But she hadn't planned it.

He'd never believed her, though. In his mind, she was the calculating woman who'd trapped him into a mating bond.

"Marcus, please," Raven moaned, clawing at her burning skin. "It hurts so much. I can feel the wolfsbane eating through my wolf."

She was a talented actress, Celeste had to admit. The silver burns were real—but they were self-inflicted. Raven had clearly brushed silver powder on her skin before calling for help.

Marcus knelt beside the bed, his face twisted with worry. "I'll get the pack doctor—"

"No!" Raven grabbed his wrist. "The wolfsbane... it's affecting my wolf differently. Only an Alpha's healing saliva can neutralize it. Please, Marcus. I'm dying."

Celeste watched in disgust as Raven pulled Marcus's hand to her mouth, sucking on his fingers while maintaining eye contact with her.

"I know this is inappropriate," Raven whispered, "but I don't want to die. Please help me."

Marcus hesitated for exactly three seconds before leaning down to lick the "burns" on Raven's arm.

The moment his saliva touched her skin, Raven arched against him with a moan that had nothing to do with pain.

"Thank you," she breathed. "I can feel your strength healing me."

Celeste felt something die inside her chest—not heartbreak, but the last fragment of respect she'd held for the man she'd called mate.

"I'll be in the basement if you need me," she said quietly.

Neither of them looked at her as she left.

But as she reached the door, she heard Raven's voice, sweet as poisoned honey:

"Marcus, I'm still burning. The wolfsbane is spreading. Can you... can you help me with the burns on my chest too?"

Chapter 4

The door clicked shut behind Celeste, but she could still hear Marcus's ragged breathing through the walls.

Twenty-three days until she never had to see this again.

Twenty minutes later, Celeste's chest began to tighten. Her breathing became shallow, each inhale feeling like she was drowning on dust. The basement air was thick with dust and mold—triggers she'd forgotten about in her haste to move downstairs.

Her asthma inhaler was still in the Luna suite. She'd left it on the nightstand when she'd moved out.

Gasping, she stumbled back upstairs. The medication was a matter of life and death—her wolf couldn't heal respiratory attacks the way it could heal cuts and bruises.

She pushed open the door to what had been her bedroom, wheezing desperately as she searched for her inhaler.

And froze.

Marcus was on the bed with Raven, his mouth still pressed to the "burns" on her chest. But the silver marks were gone now—healed by his Alpha saliva, just as Raven had planned.

They both saw her enter. Neither looked away.

Instead, Raven's fingers traced lazy circles over Marcus's shoulders while she maintained eye contact with Celeste. The message was clear: *This is mine now.*

"Having another one of your episodes?" Marcus's voice was cold. "Really, Celeste? Right now?"

Celeste's vision blurred as she struggled to breathe. She fumbled for her inhaler on the nightstand, her hands shaking.

"You're really going to interrupt us for attention?" Marcus continued, his tone disgusted. "First the poisoning, now this dramatic timing?"

"I... can't... breathe..." Celeste wheezed, finally grasping the inhaler.

Raven's voice was sweet with fake concern. "Oh no, Marcus. I think she's really sick. Should we call the pack doctor?"

But her arms tightened around him possessively, making it clear she had no intention of letting him leave.

Marcus's gaze flicked between them. "You've really disappointed me, Celeste. You poisoned Raven. Whatever happens after that is your own fault."

As Raven's fingers traced deliberate patterns across his chest, her mocking gaze slid to Celeste.

Celeste's knees trembled beneath her. She gripped the edge of the dresser, forcing herself upright even as her lungs screamed for air. Her voice came out raspy and sarcastic.

"You seriously think I poisoned her just so you"—she pointed at him with a shaky hand—her just so you could play the noble Alpha hero?"

She took a rattling breath, eyes narrowing. "There are dozens of ways to treat wolfsbane poisoning. Any pack doctor could have helped her. But this—"

"Marcus," Raven crooned suddenly, her voice soft and broken. Her nails brushed over the healed skin on her arm, drawing a shallow line that immediately began to silver again. "Just ignore her. Don't let her guilt trip you. Let me... deal with my pain alone."

She turned her head slightly, angling her words toward Celeste. "And don't blame her. I'm sure she didn't mean to poison me. She just loves you so much that she's losing her mind..."

Something snapped in Celeste. Even though she'd already decided to reject Marcus, she couldn't allow Raven to humiliate her like this in her own home.

"My goddess, Raven, do you have any shame left? You're in my house, clinging to my mate, and now you dare to patronize me? What happened to the manners ? Did that French Alpha fuck them out of you?"

Marcus's hand moved faster than lightning. The moment the words left her mouth, he stood up and backhanded her hard across the face.

"Enough, Celeste. Raven hasn't said a single cruel word about you, and yet you keep attacking her! You don't deserve anyone's pity!"

He grabbed her wrist, his Alpha strength making her bones creak. She gasped, stumbling as he dragged her toward the door. "You like poisoning people so much? Then stand here and listen to what happens next!"

He yanked the silk tie from his robe. Cold metal met her back as he bound her wrists to the door, the knot biting into her skin.

Just before shutting the door, he threw one last line at her.

"You brought this on yourself. Don't blame me or Raven!"

The door slammed shut, and she was forced to hear everything from the other side. A low groan. Then a higher moan. The rhythm was unmistakable. Unrelenting.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Tears streamed silently at first. But as the hours dragged on, the sobs stopped and her eyes dried.

All that remained was a quiet burn in her chest.

Every gasp, every cry from inside became another nail in the coffin of what she'd once called love. *This is what happens when you love the wrong Alpha,* she told herself over and over.

Suddenly, pain struck deep in her abdomen tearing something inside her. Her knees gave out. She slid down until her weight hung from her bound wrists, cold sweat pouring down her back.

Her mouth opened, but her voice barely rose above a whisper. The mate bond was screaming in agony, her wolf howling in despair as she felt her mate claiming another woman.

Compared to the pleasure-filled sounds coming from the room, her faint cries were whispers .

The sounds from inside stretched on, one hour bleeding into the next.

When the door opened, it was already dawn. Marcus stood there, adjusting his robe. "Have you learned your lesson?"

It was the first thing out of his mouth. When he didn't get a response, he looked down—Celeste was at his feet, unmoving.

He crouched. His hand touched her cheek—burning with fever.

A flicker of panic flashed in his eyes.

He scooped her up and turned toward the car—but before he could take a step, a voice called lazily from the bedroom.

"Marcus, you were a bit too rough last night. I think something's torn. It's not something I can exactly ask the pack doctor to examine, you know?"

Hearing no response, she added, "Celeste used to get fevers all the time back in college. Just send her to the hospital for some antibiotics. The pack driver can take care of her."

She sounded almost bored. "And you know my position. If the maids gossips about this, people will talk. My reputation would be ruined."

Celeste's lashes fluttered. She couldn't move or speak—but she saw it.

She saw Marcus hesitate.

She saw him turn.

She felt her body lowered into unfamiliar arms... before there was nothing to see but darkness.

When she woke up again, the world was white. Sheets. Lights. And there was a beeping machine at her side.

Luna," the pack doctor said gently, "I need to inform you of some complications from your episode. The severe asthma attack, combined with the stress and physical trauma, caused internal bleeding in your womb where you had surgery on days ago. We had to perform emergency surgery."

He paused, his expression grave. "The damage to your reproductive system was extensive. We managed to save one ovary, but... the chances of you ever carrying a pup to term are now less than fifteen percent."

The words hit her like silver bullets.

Once he left, Celeste picked up her phone and sent a message to Damien.

*A month's too long. Three days. Come get me in three days.*