I was a genius alchemist, but my mate, Alpha Clark, engineered my failure 99 times, shattering my reputation.

He siphoned my very soul 99 times to gift it to another she-wolf, Layla, molding her into the Alchemy Master I was meant to be.

He claimed Layla was his savior, that he owed her his life.

It wasn't until I uncovered his betrayal and severed our bond that he learned the truth: I was the one who had saved him.

Those scars on my back—the ones he scorned?

They were the price I paid for his life.

After I walked away, he knelt for 99 days, begging for me to return.

But some betrayals can never be forgiven.

My mate, Alpha Clark, orchestrated 99 of my alchemical failures, all to steal my soul and gift it to another she-wolf.

And I never suspected a thing.

I had just spent thirty-six hours creating the Heart of Stars essence, a potion powerful enough to triple an Alpha's strength.

I had only one thought.

He's going to love this.

I remembered the first time I showed Clark my workshop. He’d looked at all my bottles and jars, then back at me, the awe and adoration in his eyes impossible to miss.

Another time, I’d accidentally cut my hand on a glass shard, and he’d been more frantic than I was.

He bandaged it clumsily, his voice a pained whisper in my ear. "Myrna, these hands create miracles. They aren't meant for getting hurt."

Miracles…

I stared at the essence in the vial. This was just one more miracle I had created for him.

Tonight was the victory celebration for his defeat of our northern rivals. This gift was perfect timing.

I carefully sealed the Heart of Stars in a crystal vial and left my underground workshop.

But as I rushed toward the great hall and reached the terrace doors, I heard a sentence that made my blood run cold.

"Alpha, are you sure this is worth it? You've leaked Luna Myrna's alchemical secrets to Layla 99 times."

It was Clark's Beta, Max. His voice was laced with worry.

"It's worth it," Clark replied without hesitation. "Layla needs them."

My fingers tightened around the crystal vial.

Layla?

"But Luna is a genius alchemist," Max said, his voice low. "Making her fail 99 times… that kind of blow to her confidence…"

"Failure was the point," Clark cut him off coldly. "The methods I gave her were flawed. They were never going to work. But from those failures, Layla has learned enough to master high-level alchemy."

A sharp pain shot through my heart. My legs went weak, and I nearly collapsed.

My mind flashed back to my worst failure, an explosion that nearly destroyed half my face. I'd sat in the rubble, sobbing and covered in soot.

Clark had held me tight, gently kissing my tears away.

He’d told me, "It's okay, Myrna. I'll still love you, even if you're not a genius anymore."

So, every one of my heart-wrenching breakdowns, every moment of relief after surviving a disaster…

It was all just a stepping stone for another woman.

It was all an act.

"Layla is a celebrated Alchemy Master now," Max's voice grew quieter. "If anyone finds out—"

"No one will find out," Clark said with absolute confidence. "I've had Myrna trapped here for five years. She thinks her talent has dried up. She'll never know the truth."

I leaned against the wall, the agony flaring through my mate bond almost making me black out.

"Alpha, Layla is using you," Max pressed. "Once she bonds with her new mate, do you think she'll remember everything you've done?"

"I don't care," Clark's voice hardened. "If she hadn't saved me, I would have died at the hands of rogues. This is the only way I can repay her."

Saved him?

I looked down at my own hand.

The eclipse scar was still there, a permanent mark from when I saved him five years ago.

But in his mind, Layla was the hero.

"As for Myrna—" Clark paused, a hint of pity creeping into his tone. "Her pain is a necessary evil. The pressure of being a genius is a heavy burden. These failures will force her to accept her limits, give up her fantasies, and settle into her role as my Luna. It's for her own good."

Click.

The sound of the door handle turning.

I quickly backed away, took a deep breath, and tried to walk onto the terrace as calmly as possible.

"Clark?" I pushed the door open, a gentle smile on my face. "Ivy said you were looking for me."

Clark spun around. Panic flashed in his eyes before he masked it.

"Myrna." He walked toward me, arms open. "I was just about to come find you."

I sidestepped his embrace and held out the crystal vial.

My hand was trembling.

"This is for you," my voice was steadier than I expected. "Heart of Stars. To celebrate your victory."

Clark took the vial and tried to take my hand, but he flinched at how cold my skin was.

He frowned, his expression full of concern. "Myrna, why are your hands so cold?"

I fought back tears and forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. "The workshop… it must be colder than I thought."

"You always push yourself too hard," he sighed, reaching to put his arm around my shoulder.

I dodged him again.

How could he act so devoted to my face, while crushing my pride and my life's work behind my back?

Clark looked confused, caught off guard by my sudden distance.

"I'm a little tired," I said, my voice weak. "My spiritual energy is drained. I think I'll go rest."

He seemed relieved by the excuse, his eyes returning to their usual look of adoration.

I turned to leave, but Clark followed.

"I'll walk you back."

I had brought him countless potions here, but this was the first time he'd ever offered to walk me back.

This little bit of tenderness, coming so late, only made my stomach turn.

Back at the house, I waited for an entire hour.

Once I was sure Clark wouldn't be back soon, I walked to his study.

In five years, he had never once let me inside.

Tonight, it was time to see what secrets he was hiding.

The rune-lock on the door glowed softly.

My hand trembled as I reached for it.

First, I entered the date of our Mating Ceremony.

"ACCESS DENIED," a cold, magical voice chimed.

My heart sank.

I tried the date I first successfully brewed a Guardian Potion for him.

"ACCESS DENIED."

I leaned against the door, a chill running through me. Clinging to a last, pathetic shred of hope, I entered the date I had nearly died saving his life five years ago.

When "ACCESS DENIED" flashed on the screen again, my last illusion shattered.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and with a shaking hand, I typed in the one date I’d ever heard Clark speak with reverence.

Layla’s birthday.

"ACCESS GRANTED."

The lock clicked open.

The sound was so crisp, but my heart was in pieces.

The secret room was larger than I'd imagined.

The walls weren't covered in pictures, but in "Memory Crystals," preserved with expensive magic.

I shakily touched one, and Clark's perspective flooded my mind.

He was watching Layla, his eyes full of obsession, as she "created miracles" at an alchemy bench... using my rune designs.

In the center of the room, surrounded by every trophy Layla had ever won—trophies that should have been mine—there was a glass display case.

Inside was a single item.

A withered black rose.

It was the first Valentine's gift I had ever given him, five years ago.

He had promised to preserve it with magic, to "treasure it for a lifetime."

So this was his "treasured" memory—left here to rot.

I walked deeper into the room and found a smaller, rune-sealed safe.

This time, I went straight for Layla's birthday.

Inside, there were no love letters, no keepsakes.

Just 99 silver needles.

Each one was numbered, from 1 to 99.

And on the tip of every needle was a single, dried drop of blood.

My blood.

I picked up the first needle, and the memory hit me.

It wasn't just blood. It was an alchemist's soul-infused blood, drawn from the heart.

Every time an experiment failed, when I was exhausted and my spiritual defenses were at their weakest, Clark would hold me, gently stroking the back of my neck to comfort me.

But now I knew.

He wasn't comforting me.

He was using a special needle to siphon my core talent, my very essence, to be "absorbed" by Layla.

He wasn't just stealing my results.

He was draining my very soul, drop by drop.

My hand was shaking, but not from sorrow.

From rage.

At the very bottom of the safe lay a scroll.

I unrolled it. It was a draft of a blood oath, written in magical ink.

"By the Moon Goddess, I, Clark Drake, pledge my life, my loyalty, and my pack's entire fortune to join Layla Green's pack, serving as her eternal knight protector. As a show of my faith, I present the complete legacy of the ancient alchemists..."

I saw my own name at the bottom of the "asset list."

Listed along with my alchemy equipment and ancient rune books as part of the "offering."

And next to my name, written in blood-red ink, was a humiliating note:

"Myrna Walker (talent depleted, but bloodline is viable, suitable as valuable breeding stock)."

Breeding stock.

In that instant, the tear tracks on my face dried.

The last bit of sorrow in my heart turned to ice-cold silence and a towering inferno of hate.

I took out a Memory Crystal and recorded every piece of evidence.

I didn't even realize fresh tears were streaming down my face until I was done.

I wiped them away and, with a trembling hand, opened an encrypted comm link.

"Logan."

A silver-haired man's face appeared on the screen.

Logan Stone, one of the most powerful Alphas of the North.

"Myrna?" He frowned. "What's wrong? Why are you calling so late?"

"I accept your offer of alliance," I said, my voice steady. "You can have my family's entire alchemy legacy, including the formula for the Philosopher's Stone. But I decide when we make it public."

Logan was silent for a few seconds.

"What are your terms?"

"Help me sever my mate bond," I said, forcing my voice not to crack. "And help me destroy them."

"Done," Logan nodded. "I'll send my warriors to get you immediately."

"No, not yet," I shook my head. "Three days from now. At Layla's Consecration Ceremony. I want her to watch her whole world burn to the ground at her moment of greatest triumph."

I ended the call and put the device away.

Footsteps on the stairs.

Clark was back.

I quickly put everything back, closed the secret door, and walked to the living room as if nothing had happened.

"Myrna?" Clark pushed the door open and saw me on the couch. "You're still awake?"

"I was just comparing notes on runes with some explorers from the ancient ruins," I said, holding up my comm device. "They found some interesting old arrays."

A flicker of something—fear? guilt?—crossed Clark's eyes.

"It's late. That's not good for you," he said, sitting next to me. "Myrna, we need to talk."

"About what?"

"Our future." He took my hand. "I think it's time we considered having a child. An heir with your alchemy talent and my Alpha blood."

I looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Now?"

"Of course," his eyes were eager. "We've been mated for five years. It's time to solidify our bond, to build a real family."

Solidify our bond.

Make sure I could never escape his control.

"I need time to think," I said, standing up. "I'm too tired tonight. I'm going to bed."

Clark stood up too.

"Of course. Take all the time you need," he said, kissing my forehead. "Goodnight, my love."

I went upstairs and locked my bedroom door.

Then I opened another encrypted comm and began drafting a document.

"To the Alchemist Division of the Werewolf Elders' Council: Application to perform the Rite of Severance for a Mate Bond..."

After sending it, I opened another screen and booked a private flight off the continent in three days.

Destination: The Northern Territories.

I heard Clark's study door close downstairs.

I lay down on my bed, clearing my mind of all emotion.

Go ahead, Clark. Check on your secret room.

But you'll never guess that the prey has become the hunter.

The next morning, I walked to the Elders' Council.

The whispers on the street, the mockery about me being a "has-been" or "lucky," no longer bothered me.

Fools.

The clerk at the council office took my document.

He glanced at the title, gave me a look like I was insane, and then let out a contemptuous snort.

"Luna, don't be ridiculous. Alpha Clark adores you. If anything, you're the one who doesn't deserve him. Instead of making trouble, you should focus on improving your pathetic alchemy skills."

I stared at him, my face blank. "When will it be approved?"

"I suggest you reconsider—"

"I don't need to."

I turned and left, heading straight for Clark's office.

As I approached the door, I heard a familiar laugh.

Layla's voice.

"Oh, Clark, you're too good to me," she cooed, her voice sickeningly sweet. "But this is so precious. I couldn't possibly accept."

"Take it," Clark's voice was so gentle I barely recognized it. "You deserve it. No one deserves it more."

I peeked through a crack in the door.

Clark was handing Layla a stone that glowed with a purple light.

It was a Soul Stone containing my latest breakthrough—a project that took me three months to complete.

"But Myrna..." Layla took the stone, pretending to hesitate. "Does she know you're giving this to me? Won't she be heartbroken?"

"She won't know," Clark said, stroking Layla's cheek. "And it wouldn't matter if she did. You're the only one who can unlock its true potential."

"She is your mate, after all," Layla said, looking down. "I don't want to ruin your relationship."

"Layla," Clark tilted her chin up. "You will always be the most important person to me. Nothing will ever change that."

My nails dug into my palms.

Just then, the Soul Stone slipped from Layla's hand, clattering on the floor.

They both whipped their heads around and saw me in the doorway.

"Myrna!" Clark's face went white. "When did you—"

"Just now," I said, pushing the door open and walking in casually. "I heard Layla's coronation is tomorrow. I came to congratulate her."

Layla quickly bent down to pick up the stone. She tried to look apologetic, but her eyes were full of defiance.

"Myrna, I—"

"Don't explain," I cut her off, a placid smile on my face. "I support whatever Clark chooses to do."

Clark looked at me, his eyes a mix of confusion and guilt.

"Myrna, it's not what you think—"

"And what do I think?" I tilted my head. "I think Layla is incredibly talented. She deserves the best."

Layla clutched the Soul Stone, looking at me as if I were an idiot.

"You're too kind, sister," she said with a sweet smile. "I'll be sure to treasure it."

"Good," I said, turning to Clark. "I have things to do, so I'll be going. You two have fun."

As I left the office, I heard Clark start to follow, but Layla stopped him.

"Let her go, Clark. She needs time to accept that the genius is gone."

Genius?

If I'm not, is a thief like Layla?

That night, I sat alone in my room, organizing what I would need for the next day.

Suddenly, a piercing pain shot through me.

The mental link between mates had been forced open.

Layla's voice echoed in my mind.

"Look at this, Myrna."

An image formed before my eyes. By a moonlit lake, Clark was gently kissing Layla's wrist. On her pale skin was a freshly drawn alchemy rune—a complex pattern of moonlight and mercury that glowed with an eternal light.

It was the rune of "Eternal Bonding."

It should have been mine.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Layla's voice was dripping with malice. "Clark drew it for me himself. He said it represents a true, pure love."

She paused, her tone growing even more venomous.

"Oh, by the way, the rune is in just the right spot to cover that ugly scar you got saving him. Clark said he was sick of looking at it, that it was a constant reminder of his weakness. Now, it's covered forever by our love. Isn't that perfect?"

The vision faded.

I wiped a trickle of blood from my lip.

Forcing a mental link hurts both parties, but clearly, Layla didn't care.

Fine.

Tomorrow was judgment day.

The next morning, I put on my most formal gown and went to the Temple.

But two guards blocked my path at the main gate.

"Apologies, Luna Myrna," one of them said. "You are not permitted to enter."

"Why not?"

"Alpha Clark's orders," the guard said, his face a mask. "Your spirit is tainted by failure. You are not worthy of entering the sacred grounds of the Temple."

The gathered guests began to point and whisper.

"Even her own mate doesn't trust her."

"She really has fallen."

"How disgraceful."

I stood outside the gates, enduring the scornful stares of everyone.

This was Clark's final "gift" to me.