I stayed kneeling.

Blood soaked through my trousers. My hands were slick and torn. My pup’s name burned like a brand inside my chest, refusing to fade.

Malven lifted Rivelle in his arms as if she were spun from moon-glass. She curled into him, whimpering, clutching her womb like her spirit was leaking out.

Before leaving, he turned back.

Those eyes—once warm, once sworn to me under a full moon—were blades now.

“Don’t move,” he said flatly. “You don’t even deserve breath.”

I didn’t respond.

“You don’t deserve a bed.”

The door slammed. Silence devoured the chamber.

I don’t know how long I remained there. My legs felt petrified. My skull rang. My throat burned raw.

Then—the door creaked.

Light footsteps padded closer.

I didn’t look up until his shadow crossed mine.

“Why are you sitting like that?” Ryke asked.

He dangled a small blue rune-car between his fingers, swinging it idly. His sleepwear was spotless. Hair neatly combed. Eyes bright—rested, satisfied.

He crouched beside me, elbow on his knee, studying me like a stain on stone.

“My mom’s really good at pretending, isn’t she, witch?” he whispered, grinning.

The word cut clean through me.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

He pushed the toy car across the floor. The wheels clicked softly.

“Alpha Father always believes her,” Ryke said. “Every time.”

Then he stood and walked away, humming—as if he hadn’t crushed my pup’s remains hours earlier.

I bowed my head. My voice barely existed.

Soon.

Soon this would end. The severance scrolls were already with the Moon Council advocate. I only had to wait.

Then I would be free.

Then they would understand what it meant to lose everything.

***

Malven returned before dawn. He tossed a vial at my feet. It rolled and stopped. Pain draught. Unmarked.

“Try not to curse anyone next time,” he muttered, not looking at me.

He grabbed his cloak, then paused at the doorway.

“My parents’ bond-anniversary is this weekend. You’re still my mate in name. People will expect you.” His voice hardened. “Bring Elian.”

I felt nothing. Not rage. Not grief.

“You heard me,” he said. “Bring him. Clean him. Smile. You know how this pack works.”

Then he left—back to Rivelle, back to the healer’s den.

***

The anniversary arrived.

Malven didn’t allow me beside him. He sent me to the front seat with the driver, like hired hands.

Behind us, Rivelle leaned into him like a crowned Luna. Ryke sat tucked under her arm.

She whispered something. Malven laughed softly, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

I looked down at my dress—black, coarse, ill-fitted. Everyone else wore enchanted silk and moon-gems. Rivelle wore white. Pearls cascading down her spine. Innocence crafted at great cost.

No one spoke to me before we arrived.

No one looked.

At the Moonclaw Estate, crystal-lenses flashed like lightning. Scribes and heralds crowded the gates. Malven stepped out first, adjusting his cuffs, the image of a devoted Alpha.

He opened Rivelle’s door himself.

She emerged as if the night belonged to her. Ryke followed, holding her hands.

I stepped out alone, gravel biting my soles.

“Speak only when spoken to,” Malven said quietly.

I nodded. And he didn’t look back.

The great hall gleamed with gold and dominance. Chandeliers hung like captured stars. Music flowed—soft, arrogant.

Malven raised his glass.

“Everyone,” he declared, “meet Rivelle Ashenfell. The she-wolf who will carry this bloodline forward.”

Applause thundered.

She dipped her head—humble and royal.

“And this,” he said, drawing Ryke forward, “is our future. The next Alpha heir.”

Malven’s parents embraced the boy as if he were a living crown.

I stood near the cloak racks. Unseen. Disposable.

Someone near the feast table whispered, “Who’s she?”

“Oh,” Malven’s mother said lightly, “just the former mate. She couldn’t even raise her own pup properly. Sickly thing she hid away. Moon knows what became of him.”

Rivelle pressed a hand to her chest.

“Elian is… still recovering,” she said softly. “Too weak to travel.” Then she turned to me, pity perfected. “Poor Viora… still mourning.”

She kissed Malven’s cheek.

My nails bit into my palms.

A servant stumbled. A silver serving tray crashed, echoing through the hall.

Laughter rose—Malven’s father loudest.

“We’re here to celebrate,” he boomed, then pointed at me. “Let her clean it. She’s used to that.”

Some guests laughed.

Rivelle stepped forward, voice sweet as venom.

“She used to host beautifully,” she said. “Perhaps she can help serve the moon-wine. Just until the staff recover.”

Malven said nothing. So I picked up the tray. I moved among the guests, offering crystal flutes. One servant met my eyes with quiet sympathy.

By the bar, someone whispered, “Is that the first mate? I heard she cursed the den.”

“With her dead pup’s ashes,” another replied. “Can you imagine?”

I kept walking. Calm. Steady.

They couldn’t take anything from me. I had already lost everything worth losing. Let them mock the ghost they thought I was. Soon, they would remember my name.

And when they did—they would learn it screaming.

While serving moon-wine near the garden fires, I tried to fade into the lantern glow, praying the pack wouldn’t see me. But they did. Every whisper burned like acid beneath my skin.

“Alpha Malven and Lady Rivelle look perfectly matched.”

“She moves like a true Luna of Wolfsbane Pack.”

“That pup is disciplined. She raised him well.”

“Alpha Malven finally chose a worthy mate.”

I kept pouring, fingers tightening around the silver tray until my knuckles ached. My plain black servant’s dress clung to me like a mark of disgrace. Around me, wolves glittered in moon-gems and blood-earned power.

Then it happened.

Ryke—Malven’s prized heir—slid his polished boot into my path. I saw it too late. My heel caught.

I pitched forward. Crystal shattered across marble. Moon-wine splashed over a noblewoman’s ivory gown, the stain blooming like an unforgivable curse.

Gasps tore through the garden. Music died.

I stood amid the wreckage, hands shaking.

Ryke lifted his chin and said clearly, “She destroys everything. Just like she destroyed my little brother.”

Silence crushed the air.

Rivelle rose slowly, one hand resting on her womb, eyes shining with practiced fear.

“Please… he’s only a pup,” she said softly. “He’s been terrified ever since that cursed urn entered our den. He has nightmares.”

A pause, then poison. “About her. About what she did.”

Someone whispered, “The urn… Moon Mother preserve us…”

I murmured to myself, unheard, The urn that held my pup. The one you all shattered.

Malven cut through the crowd like a blade. His grip crushed my arm, yanking me forward.

“You dare shame me before the packs? Before Rivelle?”

His voice burned. “You ruin everything you touch.”

His palm struck my face. Blood filled my mouth, but I didn’t fall.

Rivelle gasped softly. “Malven… don’t hurt her. She’s still the mother of your pup.” Her hand stroked her belly like a blessing.

Then his mother arrived, heavy with jewels, a queen ready to pass judgment. “Sever the bond tonight,” she ordered. “I won’t have filth tied to our bloodline.”

This time, I raised my head.

“No need,” I said, my voice cracked but steady. “The severance was approved this morning. You can keep your heir. I want nothing more from this pack.”

Malven froze—confused, insulted, almost afraid.

His mother slapped me hard enough to ring my ears. “How dare you speak as if you have a choice? You should be grateful we ever tolerated you!”

Whispers erupted.

“She should be locked away again.”

“She’s unstable.”

“She’s mad.”

“She won’t survive without the Alpha.”

My wrist crystal vibrated. Two words glowed: Bond severed.

For a heartbeat, the world blurred. Then I smiled—thin, sharp, free. I wiped my lip, lifted my chin, and walked toward the gates.

Malven shouted after me. “Viora! Where do you think you’re going?”

I didn’t turn. “Somewhere you’ll never cage me again.”

He moved to command his guards—but Rivelle gasped and collapsed right on cue. Panic erupted. Wolves surged forward. Moon-crystals flashed.

No one stopped me.

***

Back at the den, the maid opened the door, eyes wide with guilt. I passed her in silence and climbed to Elian’s room.

His scent still lingered—sweet, untouched by their rot.

I packed his toys. His gnawed storybooks. His small clothes. I pressed each to my chest, memorizing the weight of what I’d lost.

Then I removed my mating ring and placed it on his pillow.

The maid watched, gripping the railing. I walked past her, out to my rusted car and sat behind the wheel. The Alpha mansion gleamed in my vision—cold, monstrous, beautiful the way a coffin is beautiful.

“Goodbye, Malven,” I whispered. “Wait for the day I burn your kingdom to ash.”

My crystal buzzed again and again.

[Come back now. You humiliated me. Ungrateful bitch. Leave, and you’ll suffer.]

I smiled faintly and sent two words:

FUCK YOU!

Then I drove.