On the other end of the howl-call, her voice trembled with tears, dripping with helplessness. "Fenris, my former mate's pack is gathered outside my lodge quarters, blocking the entrance, threatening me not to proceed with the Bond Dissolution. I don't know what to do."

His expression shifted instantly. He slammed his foot down, and the vehicle shot forward through the night.

He kept his voice low and soothing as he drove. "Don't be frightened. I'm coming to you. Stay inside and don't open the door. Wait for me."

I gripped the seat restraint, my knuckles white. "Fenris, slow down. This is reckless."

Only then did he seem to remember I was sitting beside him. He hit the brakes hard, his tone clipped and decisive. "Find your own way to the den. I have to go—now."

Before I could respond, he was already accelerating again.

The vehicle tore down the road, ignoring every signal as if his own safety meant nothing.

I stood alone on the empty path, discarded like an afterthought, a hollow ache spreading through my chest.

I took a deep breath and summoned a transport.

At the Central Den, I buried myself in pack duties.

I handled my responsibilities while quietly, deliberately passing tasks to others.

This bond was over. I couldn't keep relying on him—or on what we used to be.

He didn't return until nearly the end of the day.

The tension from this morning had vanished. His shoulders were relaxed, his expression light, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

When I stepped into his council chamber to deliver my report, I caught it—that familiar, cloying scent clinging to him. Aurora's signature fragrance, sweet and floral, layered over his natural musk.

He flipped through the documents absently, then glanced up. His gaze landed on my bare finger where my bonding mark should have gleamed.

"Why did you conceal your bond mark?"

My voice stayed even. "You didn't want me displaying it. You were worried someone in the pack might notice our connection. So I stopped."

"Is that so?" He nodded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation.

If he'd thought about it for even a second longer, he would have realized how strange it was—that I, who had always insisted on everyone recognizing our bond, had suddenly hidden all traces of it.

But he didn't.

He just smiled faintly, his eyes distant, still savoring whatever had happened with Aurora.

I let out a bitter half-smile and turned to leave.

Outside the chamber, I pulled out my message-crystal. Sure enough, Aurora had just shared a new memory-capture for the pack network.

One image flickered past in the recording.

Fenris's back, framed in a kitchen doorway.

He was wearing an apron, cooking utensil in hand, his expression soft and focused as he prepared a meal for her.

He had never liked being in the cooking quarters.

I was the one who had taught myself to prepare food, hoping to make something he'd enjoy.

Only now did I finally understand.

It wasn't that he didn't want to cook.

He just didn't want to cook for me.

I stood by the moonlit pool behind the Central Den, watching the silver light ripple across the water while something cold and sharp twisted in my chest.

I pulled the bonding token from my pocket and held it in my palm, as if I could still feel the warmth it once carried.

"Goodbye."

The word was barely a whisper.

I drew my arm back and hurled the token into the pool.

It arced through the air, broke the surface, and sank without a trace.

I took a deep breath, straightened my spine, and walked away.

After a pack council session later that day, I noticed Fenris's gaze pause on an unfamiliar face standing nearby. His brow furrowed, almost imperceptibly.

"Who is this?" He turned to me, a note of surprise in his voice.

"Selene Frostveil. She's my trainee from the Mooncourt." I kept my tone neutral. "Going forward, she'll be handling the council records."

He considered this for a moment, then nodded, his voice casual. "That works. No need for you to waste your abilities on minor duties like that."

Minor duties.

I laughed quietly to myself.

It was exactly this kind of "small work" that had kept me buried in the chaos of howling council chambers, sorting through endless scent-marked scrolls and territory reports just so he could grasp the key points in the shortest time possible.

And in his eyes, all of it was unnecessary.

Selene handed over the council minutes, her nervousness bleeding into her scent.

Fenris flipped through a few pages, his frown deepening with each one.

After Selene retreated from the den chamber, he turned to me, his tone intimate and casual. "You still know me best. The new Omega's summaries are way too cluttered."

He was clearly waiting for me to do what I'd always done—take the documents and reorganize them myself.

But I just smiled faintly. "Give the new pack member some time. She'll adjust."

He froze for a moment, as if he hadn't expected that response. A flicker of discomfort crossed his face before his expression smoothed back to normal.

Just then, his message-sigil flared with light.

I caught a glimpse of it without meaning to—an invitation to a mating celebration from his closest ally, with a note specifically requesting he bring a companion.

"Want me to come with you?" My voice was soft, carrying a hint of something almost imperceptible.

His expression turned complicated in an instant.

He reached out and pulled me into his arms, his voice gentle and indulgent. "That kind of gathering isn't really your scene. Just a bunch of high-born pups showing off their bloodlines. I'd hate to put you through that."

I gently pulled away from the embrace, keeping my tone even. "Actually, I have plans tonight too. I need to go out."

Sensing my words had come off a bit cold, I added, "Come back to the den early."

He visibly relaxed, pressing a light kiss to my cheek. "You're so thoughtful, sweetheart. Next time there's something more formal, I'll definitely bring you. Let everyone meet you properly."

I looked at the sincerity on his face and almost laughed.

Five years. This was the first time in five years he'd ever mentioned making our bond public.

And it happened to be right when I'd already decided to leave.

I turned toward the chamber door, my back to him. "Sure. Next time."

The moment the door clicked shut, I knew.

That "next time" would never come.

And I was right.

Just as I'd predicted, his companion that night was Aurora.

The celebration grounds glittered with moonstone lanterns, honeyed mead flowing freely.

Aurora wore an exquisite white ceremonial gown, her arm linked through his as all eyes followed them. Her cheeks were flushed, and she kept leaning into him, drawing good-natured teasing from the gathered wolves.

"Aurora's gotten so beautiful."

"I know, right? She and Fenris look perfect together."

Everyone tactfully avoided mentioning their former pack-sibling bond.

After all, Aurora had no blood ties to the Duskmoor pack now. To outsiders, they were just an ordinary courting pair.

After the celebration ended, a tipsy Aurora sat in the carriage seat beside him, her fingers restlessly tugging at his sleeve, her voice thick with mead and grievance.

"Fenris... I really can't go back to that guest lodge... Can I stay at your keep until the bond dissolution waiting period is over?"

His hands tightened on the reins.

Logic told him to refuse.

It would be hard to explain to me, and if things blew up, the pack elders might find out.

But looking at her reddened eyes and flushed cheeks, he found himself steering toward the Alpha's keep as if possessed.

It wasn't until he reached the front entrance that he saw something he hadn't expected.

I was standing at the threshold, talking to Kael Thornhart.

Kael was a well-known high-born heir in their circles, but he'd refused to inherit his family's territory and become a Pack Advocate instead, specializing in bond-law.

We each held a document in our hands.

Fenris's heart lurched. He steadied Aurora and strode toward us.

"What are the two of you doing here?" His amber gaze locked onto the parchment in my hands. "Who's seeking a Bond Severance?"

Something about the document seemed to catch his attention, a flicker of recognition crossing his features.

Before he could examine it more closely, I had already slipped the papers into my satchel, keeping my voice light and unbothered. "Raven is going through a Bond Dissolution with her mate. I'm helping her seek guidance from the Mooncourt."

Raven Stormholt was my closest friend among the packs—convenient enough to use as a shield for the truth.

I redirected the conversation, letting my eyes drift to Aurora, who was so intoxicated on moonwine she could barely keep her footing. "What happened to Aurora? Did she overindulge at the feast?"

His expression shifted, something uncomfortable passing through his scent as his attention pulled away from the document. "Her former mate's pack is stirring up trouble," he offered vaguely. "She'll be staying at the den with us for a few days."

Then, with a practiced air of concern, he turned his focus to me. "Even if you're assisting a friend, you shouldn't be meeting unmated males this late under the moon."

That familiar lecturing tone, as if he had any right to it.

I watched Aurora, practically draped across his chest, her fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic, and felt nothing but hollow irony settle in my bones.

This male who called her his sister at every gathering had long since positioned her where a mate belonged.

"Pack Advocate Thornhart, let's end our consultation here for tonight." My voice remained steady, betraying nothing.

Kael's sharp, fox-like eyes swept over Aurora with deliberate slowness, and a knowing smile curved across his lips.

"Now that I think about it, I've never had the pleasure of meeting Alpha Duskmoor's bonded mate."

He shot me a look heavy with meaning, then glanced back at Aurora, his tone carrying an edge of suggestion. "Don't tell me the Alpha's true mate is—"

"My pack's private matters are none of your concern." Fenris cut him off, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. Clearly, he had no intention of revealing who bore his bond mark.

Kael dipped his head in acknowledgment, entirely unruffled by the Alpha's displeasure. "My apologies. Open bonding arrangements are so common among the elite packs these days—I simply assumed Alpha Duskmoor might follow that custom. Rest assured, I know when to keep my nose out of another wolf's territory."

Before Fenris's temper could fully ignite, Kael turned and strolled away into the shadows, leaving only that knowing smile lingering in the moonlight.

"If you ever find yourself in need of a Bond Severance, Alpha Duskmoor, feel free to send a howl-call my way. I'll offer you a favorable arrangement."

Fenris's gaze cut to me instinctively, his voice ice-cold and absolute. "My mate and I share a perfectly content bond."

Kael was already too far away to hear the declaration.

But Aurora heard every word.

She nestled deeper against him, drunk and hazy, lifting her glistening eyes to meet his. Her voice came out small, fragile as morning frost. "Am I... intruding on your time with your mate?"

Before he could form an answer, her eyes reddened with unshed tears, and she struggled to pull herself from his arms. "You're not just my brother anymore—you have your own bonded now. I shouldn't be standing between you. I'll return to the guest lodge."

Fenris pulled her back into his embrace, holding her tighter than before, his arms wrapping around her like she was something precious that might shatter. His voice softened to something almost unbearably tender, a tone I had never once heard directed at me.

"You're right. I'm not just your brother anymore."

He paused, and the silence stretched like a held breath.

"But you're always welcome to intrude."

His gaze burned into her—raw, undisguised, his wolf barely contained beneath the surface—as if he might devour her whole right there under the stars.

In that moment, I knew with absolute certainty. He was one sentence away from crossing a line he could never uncross. One breath away from speaking words that would shatter whatever fragile pretense we had maintained.

I stood there like a complete outsider, a ghost haunting my own bonding, watching the scene unfold with detached clarity. My wolf whimpered somewhere deep inside, but I had long since learned to silence her.

Only then did he seem to remember I existed at all. He released Aurora, a flicker of guilt crossing his features like a passing cloud. "Sweetheart, you don't mind, do you? She's just my sister."

He'd already prepared himself—ready to soothe a jealous mate, to offer pretty words and empty reassurances.

But I only pulled my lips into the ghost of a smile, the expression feeling foreign on my face.

"I don't mind."

The moment those three words left my mouth, I heard it clearly—the sound of my own heart tearing open, the bond between us straining against wounds that would never heal.

When morning light crept through the stone windows, I woke and reached instinctively for the space beside me on the sleeping furs.

It was already cold.