"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.

So in his mind, I was simply here at the Healer's Lodge to rest and let my body mend.

I watched him in silence, studying the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his wolf's presence barely stirred beneath his skin when he looked at me.

Every time I'd felt unwell before, I would let my scent turn soft and pleading, nuzzling against him, begging him through our bond to stay close.

But this time, I hadn't sent a single howl-call.

And he hadn't remembered I existed until a full week later.

Seventeen missed calls or none at all—in the end, the result was exactly the same.

Why torture myself?

"I figured you were too occupied with pack matters," I said softly, keeping my scent carefully neutral. "I didn't want to burden you."

Something flickered across his face, a brief shadow passing through those amber eyes. He stepped forward to embrace me, his arms wrapping around my smaller frame. "I'm your mate. You could never burden me."

I didn't pull away, but I didn't lean into his warmth either.

The moment my head rested against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar pine and storm scent of him, the question slipped out before I could stop it: "The same way you feel about Aurora?"

I regretted it instantly.

It made me sound like a jealous Omega fighting for scraps of her Alpha's attention.

His body went rigid for a split second, his wolf stirring with something I couldn't read, before he recovered. He chuckled, stroking my hair with practiced ease. "Of course it's the same."

Just then, Kael's howl-call came through the message-sigil on my wrist.

I kept it brief in front of Fenris—a few short responses through the magical link before closing the connection.

His brow furrowed deeper, dark eyes narrowing. "Come to think of it, I ran into Raven's mate a few days ago at the border patrol gathering. Couldn't tell they were heading for a Bond Severance."

"It's Raven's decision alone," I said, keeping my voice even. "Her mate doesn't know yet."

"Isn't dissolving a mating bond supposed to be a two-wolf decision?" Confusion clouded his handsome features.

I looked him straight in the eye, holding his gaze without flinching. "Because Raven discovered her mate was secretly meeting up with his first intended—the one he'd courted before her—behind her back. She caught traces of the other female's scent on him. She couldn't accept it, so she decided to file the petition quietly with the Mooncourt. If she confronted him directly, he'd probably refuse to agree right away and invoke his Alpha rights."

Righteous indignation flashed across his features, his wolf bristling visibly beneath his skin. "Then she absolutely should sever the bond. A wolf like that is unworthy of his rank."

I lowered my gaze and said nothing.

Fenris knew Raven's mate personally—they'd hunted together, shared territory patrols.

Given how he always prided himself on knowing everything about his inner circle, there was no way he didn't know whether Rowan had a first intended or not.

Yet he hadn't hesitated for even a second before agreeing with me.

Which meant his mind was already somewhere else entirely.

"How much longer on Aurora's Bond Dissolution cooling period?" I asked suddenly.

"Fifteen more days." The answer came without a moment's thought—he'd clearly been counting down each moonrise.

I gazed at the pale sunlight streaming through the lodge window, watching dust motes dance in the golden beams. "That should line up nicely, then."

"What?" He blinked, confusion rippling through his scent.

"Nothing."

I smiled and let it drop.

His message-sigil pulsed with an incoming call.

This wolf who hadn't spared a single thought for my seventeen missed howl-calls now answered on reflex, like a trained response burned into his very bones.

"Hello, Aurora?"

His voice turned gentle instantly, all the hard edges of the Alpha melting away.

Through the sigil's connection came Aurora's tearful whimper: "Fenris, I'm alone in the den and I'm so scared. There are strange scents near the boundary."

"Don't be scared. I'm on my way." His tone was soothing, tender in a way I hadn't heard directed at me in years. He glanced at me almost unconsciously, something like guilt flickering through his expression.

I watched the scene unfold with perfect calm. There was nothing left in my chest to ache—the place where our bond should have thrummed felt hollow and still.

So that was how it worked.

When Aurora was by his side, he knew any incoming call couldn't possibly be from me—so the message-sigil didn't matter.

When Aurora wasn't around, he was terrified of missing a single whisper from her.

After he closed the connection, his restlessness was palpable. His wolf paced beneath his skin, eager to run to her.

Maybe my comment about the first intended had struck a nerve somewhere deep. He didn't immediately announce he was leaving.

"Go handle your pack duties," I offered, my voice perfectly steady. "Don't let me keep you from your responsibilities."

Relief washed over him, so obvious it might have been funny if it weren't so painful. He rattled off a hasty reminder: "When are you being released from the healers' care? Send me a sigil-message and I'll escort you back to the den."

Then he strode out of the room, his long legs carrying him away with barely contained urgency.

He didn't look back once.

Another week passed. I packed my belongings, ready to be discharged from the Healer's Lodge.

I sent him three howl-calls. Every single one went unanswered, the connection simply fading into silence.

Meanwhile, Aurora's latest appearance at the Lunar Celebration had spread across every pack's territory—her graceful dance, her radiant smile, the way she'd stood beside Fenris's empty seat as if she already belonged there. The story had traveled through a hundred dens and counting.