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.

I pulled on my sleeping robe and padded barefoot down the third-floor corridor of the Alpha's Keep, pausing at the carved stone railing to peer down at Aurora's chamber on the floor below.

The heavy oak door stood half-open.

I watched Fenris carefully spooning warm broth into her mouth, the kind meant to ease the aftereffects of too much ceremonial wine.

She pouted and wrinkled her nose in distaste. He patiently blew on each spoonful to cool it before offering it again. When she complained that her silver-blonde hair was tangled and wild, he set aside the bowl and picked up an ivory brush, gathering the strands into a neat tail at the base of her neck. His movements were practiced, almost tender—the gestures of someone who had done this many times before.

My claws extended without thought, pricking into my palms. I couldn't feel the sting.

I remembered the time I'd pushed myself through an alliance dinner, drinking wolfsbane-laced wine until my stomach bled internally to close a territory deal for him. The next morning, he'd simply had the Den Keeper bring me a bowl of healing broth. I'd once asked him to help me braid my hair for a Pack Council gathering. He'd said he didn't know how, his voice clipped with impatience, his scent sharp with irritation.

I stood there frozen, watching them, until they finally left together—her arm looped through his, their scents mingling in a way that made my wolf whimper.

My legs had gone numb from standing so long, but I refused to descend.

I didn't want to appear before them.

It would make me feel like a pathetic joke—the scheming rival standing between fated mates, just like in those tragic ballads the pack elders sang around the fire. The kind of story I used to scorn.

Perhaps my mind was elsewhere. Perhaps the numbness had spread too far. Going down the stone stairs, I misjudged a step.

My foot met empty air. I fell hard.

Pain exploded through my abdomen like claws raking from the inside.

I curled up on the cold floor, feeling something warm and wet seeping down between my legs.

All color drained from my face.

With trembling hands, I pressed my palm against my lower belly. A terrible thought surfaced—one I couldn't bear to name.

"My Lady!"

Mira came running from the kitchens, panic in every step. When she saw the blood spreading across the polished stone, her voice cracked with horror.

"I'm sending for the Healer's Lodge immediately."

The healers arrived with their stretcher and herb-pouches, their urgent voices shattering the morning quiet of the Keep.

At the Healer's Lodge, an attending wolf asked urgently, "Where is the patient's bonded mate? We need the Alpha's mark on the consent scrolls."

Mira was frantic, wringing her hands. "I've sent howl-calls to Alpha Fenris over a dozen times. No response."

She fumbled for the message-sigil crystal I kept by my bed. "I tried seventeen times through the Lady's own channel too. The sigils just... fade. As if warded against."

I forced my eyes open and reached for the healer's sleeve. My voice was barely a whisper.

"I'll mark the scrolls myself. I don't want the pup."

The words left me hollow, as if they'd carved out everything I had left.

I thought about the past two moons—how Fenris had mentioned wanting to strengthen the bloodline, so I'd stopped taking the moon-herb that prevented conception.

This pup had quickened by accident. Now it would leave the same way.

It was never wanted. Never welcomed with love or the joy of true mates.

It shouldn't come into this world.

The head healer's expression was grave, her silver eyes troubled. "The situation is critical, my Lady. The fall has caused great damage. We may not be able to preserve the pregnancy, but we can attempt—"

"Don't." I closed my eyes. Tears slid down silently, soaking into the healing linens. "Let it go."

In the treatment chamber, the harsh glow of spelled crystals was blinding.

The cold clatter of healer's instruments rang sharp and clear against stone trays.

Every movement felt like a piece of my soul being carved away.

I bit down on my lip until I tasted copper, refusing to let myself cry out. My wolf howled somewhere deep inside me, grieving what we were losing.

A week later, afternoon sunlight filtered through the gauze curtains of the recovery wing, falling across my bed in pale golden stripes.

I set down my scrying mirror. The surface still showed Aurora's latest image-sending to the pack. In the vision, Fenris was crouched before her in the gardens, fastening the clasps of her ceremonial boots. They were both laughing, carefree, their wolves clearly at ease with each other.

I darkened the mirror with a touch, my face blank. As if I'd seen nothing at all.

"Lyra."

The heavy door swung open.

Fenris strode in, something like alarm flickering across his sharp features. His nostrils flared, scenting the room.

"How are you feeling?"

When he drew closer, he finally noticed how pale I was—my lips completely bloodless, my scent thin and weak where it should have been strong.

He frowned, confusion creasing his brow. "Is it your moon-cycle again? Why didn't you send word to me?"

Irregular cycles had always plagued me—a weakness in my bloodline that the healers had never fully corrected.

Following my instructions, Mira hadn't told him about the lost pup. She'd sworn a silence oath at my request, her eyes wet with tears she didn't dare shed in front of me.