But this Vesper Duskmere had already lasted three months, and he still hadn't grown tired of her.

Perhaps it was precisely that unusual "longevity" that gave her the nerve. She no longer kept to her place like the other she-wolves. She'd even added me on the pack channel directly, using that quiet, deliberate way of hers to test boundaries, to provoke.

But I didn't take it to heart.

I'd already decided to seek a bond rejection. Why bother with these petty games.

Over the next few days, with nothing else to do, I cleaned the den from top to bottom.

The grooming blades I'd carefully selected for him. The formal coats he wore every day, the ones I'd pressed by hand. The limited-edition moon-phase timepiece I'd stayed up all night to claim at a moonlit auction.

No matter how much or how little something was worth, if I had given it to him, I packed it up and threw it out.

What I discarded along with it was every bit of grievance from this mating, and every piece of the heart I'd once given without reservation.

I had made up my mind. A clean break from the past. A fresh start.

Two more days passed before he finally came back.

He stood in the main hall, looking at the estate that was noticeably emptier, and his brow furrowed. "Clara, you threw out my things?"

I flipped through the journal in my hands without looking up. "I did."

"I bought them. I can toss them if I want. Is there a problem? Besides, you never come back to the den. No point keeping things no one uses."

He clearly assumed I was still angry about what happened last time, that this was just me lashing out.

He walked over and sat beside me, his tone carrying that careless, offhand reassurance. "Didn't we agree a long time ago? We each do as we please outside these walls, no real feelings for anyone else. Why are you getting worked up over this again?"

The same old line.

No matter what he did, he could always find a reason to excuse himself. And I, his Luna in name only, could only silently absorb every hurt he brought, until even voicing a single complaint felt like too much.

But now, I no longer wanted to get tangled up in these meaningless things with him.

I closed the journal and stood, heading for the stairs. My voice was cold, without a trace of warmth. "You're overthinking it. I don't care at all."

He took that as me pretending not to care, and immediately stood to catch my hand.

Under my impatient gaze, he pulled an invitation from his coat and placed it in my palm.

"Stop being angry. Tomorrow I'll take you to the auction. Whatever catches your eye, bid on it. A chance to unwind. Alright?"

My first instinct was to refuse.

But when my eyes landed on the Silvercrest Auction House crest on the invitation, I changed my mind.

I was going to leave him anyway. Spending his gold moons to buy myself something nice didn't seem like a loss.

So I nodded.

At five in the afternoon, his car pulled up in front of the estate right on time.

I picked up my bag and came downstairs, reaching for the door, and saw a familiar face.

Vesper Duskmere.

She was clutching a large bag of snacks and drinks, settled firmly in the front passenger seat, smiling at me with a look that was all wide-eyed innocence.

"Luna, I get a little motion-sick. Would you mind terribly sitting in the back today?"

The flash of triumph at the bottom of her eyes didn't escape me. I lowered my gaze, and in my peripheral vision caught the ornament hanging from the mirror.

It was a custom charm, a small crystal wolf with a ribbon, and etched along the ribbon was a line of script.

Little Princess Vesper's Exclusive Seat.

I said nothing. I didn't move aside.

Kael seemed to sense my mood, and once again, with that low, impatient coaxing tone, tried to smooth things over.

"Vesper's never been to an auction before. I'm just showing her around. She's delicate, Clara. Give way to her."

Give way?

Of course I could.

I'd already decided I didn't even want the man anymore. A seat in his car was nothing worth fighting over.

I let out a quiet laugh, said nothing, and turned to sit in the back.

The whole ride, Vesper was like a bird that never tired of singing. She nibbled on cakes and snacks, scooping bites with her own spoon and feeding them to Kael. She made no effort to hide the intimacy, and he made no effort to refuse it. They talked about everything and nothing. Every pout, every playful word from her lips earned a slow, indulgent smile at the corner of his mouth.

From start to finish, I didn't spare either of them a single glance. I just cracked the window and watched the cold autumn landscape slide past, the wind slipping in with a faint chill that settled against my skin.

After the car stopped, we'd barely walked a few steps before Vesper wrinkled her brow and whimpered that her heels were hurting her feet. Kael laughed and called her spoiled, but without a moment's hesitation, he steered her toward the nearest boutique. He crouched down himself, trying pair after pair on her feet, checking the give of each sole with careful, gentle hands.

I stood off to one side watching this scene, and a memory surfaced from half a moon ago.

That night, I'd been burning with fever so high my thoughts had gone blurry, my whole body feeling like it had been scorched through. All I'd asked was for him to pour me a glass of water. He hadn't even lifted his head. Just refused, cold as iron.

So this was how stark the difference between people could be. The one held at the heart was treated like a princess. The treatment was never the same.

But once, I had been the one he cradled in his palms.

Back then, I'd tested him on purpose, told him that if he could bring me the red bean cakes from the southern district, I'd consider being with him. The southern district was half the city away from my family's den, and that day a heavy snow was falling. Anyone could see it was an impossible task.

But he said nothing. Just got in the car and left.

Five full hours.

In the end, he pulled the pastry from inside his coat, still warm, and held it out to me. His eyes were completely serious.

Afterward, I wondered countless times: if the love at the beginning had been real, why did it change so fast?

Now I understood.

He hadn't changed. I just hadn't seen clearly before. Hadn't seen his restless nature, hadn't seen what kind of wolf he truly was. A restless wolf never stops for anyone.

I laughed quietly to myself, took the invitation, and walked into the auction hall ahead of them.

The first lot had already opened for bidding by the time Kael arrived with Vesper, fashionably late.

The auction ran alongside the evening feast. The tables were spread with elaborate sweets and fat, glistening seasonal crab, the rich scent of buttered shell filling the warm air. The moment Vesper sat down, she spotted the platter of crab and tugged at Kael's arm, saying she wanted some right now. He gave a helpless smile, straightened her skirt for her, waved off the den attendant's offer to help, and picked up the tools himself, prying the meat and golden roe free bit by careful bit. His movements were practiced and patient. When he was done, he set the plate in front of her. Vesper looked up at him, her eyes full of adoration and dependence.

I just watched it all in silence.

After the crab, she pointed casually at a set of emerald jewelry on the stage. Kael didn't hesitate. He raised his paddle.

"Bidder seventeen. Three hundred million gold moons."

The words fell, and the entire hall went silent before erupting into murmurs. No one dared bid higher. Sharp intakes of breath rippled through the crowd on every side.

Soon the feast entered its intermission. Guests carrying crystal glasses drifted toward our table, eager to make connections. They watched the way Kael doted on Vesper, and naturally assumed she was the lady of the house. "Mrs. Blackthorne" this, "Luna" that, the titles flowing without pause.

Only then did Kael lift his gaze and look at me. A single, flat glance.

"You have the wrong one. She is my mate."

The air froze solid.

The smiles on their faces locked in place, and they stumbled over themselves to correct the mistake, words tripping out in awkward, half-formed apologies.

I didn't speak. I didn't acknowledge the glances they cast my way, some startled, some pitying.

They hadn't been wrong, really.

Soon enough, I wouldn't be the Blackthorne Luna at all.

With how Kael Blackthorne doted on Vesper Duskmere now, perhaps the moment the bond rejection decree was finalized, he'd bring her into the ancestral den and claim her before the pack.

After the intermission, the auction shifted to bloodline relics and antiquities. I had no interest in any of it. I placed bids on a few of the most expensive pieces without really looking at them, then stood and left my seat.

I had just reached the corridor leading to the grand stairwell when a saccharine voice floated up behind me.

"Luna, do you have a moment to talk?"

I had barely stopped walking, hadn't even started to respond, when I saw Vesper Duskmere raise her hand.

The next second.

A sharp crack.

A slap landed hard across my face.

For a moment, my mind went completely blank.

She had put her full strength behind it. Heat blazed across my cheek in an instant, my ears rang with a high, buzzing whine, and every thought emptied out of my head.

I pressed my hand to my face on instinct, almost unable to react at all.

When awareness came flooding back, rage surged up like something feral.

"Vesper Duskmere, what are you doing!"

I raised my hand to strike back.

But before the blow could land, a hand caught my wrist.

Kael Blackthorne.

He seized my wrist in a crushing grip, hard enough to make my fingers go numb. His Alpha aura pressed outward, a cold, heavy pulse that made the air around us thicken.

His voice carried open displeasure.

"Clara, Vesper hasn't provoked you. Why would you hit her?"

I froze for a single heartbeat, then wrenched my arm free, my voice trembling beyond my control.

"I hit her? Kael Blackthorne, ask anyone standing here who struck first!"

The words had barely left my mouth before Vesper's eyes reddened. Tears gathered fast, spilling to the edges, and she shrank into herself with a look of such wounded innocence it was almost artful.

Her voice came out soft and quivering.

"Kael, you're the one who said I was too timid, that I should find chances to toughen up. I thought about it for a long time before I decided that slapping the Blackthorne Luna in front of everyone would be the greatest challenge I could find. Otherwise I truly couldn't think of an opportunity."

Her voice grew smaller, more pitiful with every word.

"But the Luna was so fierce just now. I was frightened…"

Her tears fell one after another, like beads dropping from a snapped string.

After hearing her out, Kael frowned.

"Telling you to build courage doesn't mean you can hit someone."

Especially not me.

But the reproach in his voice was so faint it barely carried weight at all.

Vesper sniffled, crying harder now.

"I'm sorry. I was too foolish. You said the Luna had a gentle temper. I thought even if I hit her, she wouldn't get angry. I didn't expect…"

She trailed off into a choked, trembling whimper, her distress so exaggerated it bordered on performance.

Kael's expression softened completely.

His heart had cracked open for her. He forgot any thought of blame, one hand wiping the tears from her cheeks, his voice low and coaxing.

"All right, all right. No one blames you. Stop crying. Be good."

I stood there, watching this scene, and felt my chest go cold in slow, spreading waves.

Anger and hurt churned together, rising until I couldn't hold the words back any longer.

"Kael Blackthorne, I'm the one who was struck. What right do you have to forgive her on my behalf? And Vesper Duskmere, what innocence are you performing? Who decides to slap someone as a way to build courage?"

My voice climbed higher than I could rein in.

Vesper flinched at the sound, her crying worsening until she could barely breathe, gasping as though she might collapse at any moment.

Kael's heart broke for her entirely.

The look he turned on me held an edge of impatience now, his tone careless.

"She's a young she-wolf. One slap from her, how much force could it possibly carry? Do you really need to make this much of it? She's already so guilt-ridden she's about to cry herself unconscious. Clara, enough."