I knelt on the cold marble floor of Luna Isabella's grand hall, my forehead pressed against the back of my hands, my voice steady as a still lake. "I, Helena Carmichael, pay my respects to Luna Isabella."

Isabella Royce, regal and poised, waved a hand gently.

"Rise, Helena. You saved my life, and I've called you here today to grant you a favor."

I didn't stand.

Instead, I bowed lower, my words deliberate.

"I have one request, Luna. Please grant me permission to break my bond with General Grant Morgan."

The hall fell silent, the air thick with shock.

Isabella's porcelain saucer froze midair, her sharp eyes widening. "What did you say?"

"Your bond with Grant was sealed by Alpha Alexander Royce himself," she said, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"He's the finest wolf in Argentum Town. Countless she-wolves would give anything to be bound to him. Why would you want to shatter that bond?"

I stayed quiet, my lips pressed tight.

Around me, the other she-wolves in the hall exchanged glances, their whispers cutting through the silence.

One of them, a high-ranking matron, spoke up.

"Luna, you've been tucked away in the palace too long. You haven't heard. For three years, Grant's been devoted to that Delilah Hayes, the she-wolf he brought back from the battlefield. He hasn't so much as stepped into Helena's chambers."

"Exactly," another chimed in, her tone sharp.

"Last year at the Moon Festival, Grant pinned a flower in Delilah's hair right in front of every noble she-wolf in the pack. Left Helena standing there like a servant."

Isabella's gaze snapped to me, her expression a mix of shock and pity.

"Helena, is this true?"

My nails dug into my palms, the sting grounding me.

I remembered our binding day, waiting alone as the ceremonial candles burned to nothing, no mate by my side.

I thought of every pack gathering, Grant's arm around Delilah while I lingered in the shadows. I heard their laughter through the courtyard walls, night after night, while I lay awake.

"Yes," I said, the single word draining every ounce of strength I had.

Isabella sighed, her shoulders softening.

"Very well. If this is your wish, I'll grant it. But this bond was decreed by Alpha Alexander, and Grant's a key figure in the pack. For it to be unbound, he must agree."

She summoned an enforcer to fetch a scroll, the document that would sever our bond, and handed it to me.

"If Grant signs this within ten days and doesn't change his mind, I'll ensure Alpha Alexander issues a decree to set you both free."

My hands trembled as I took the scroll, the weight of it heavier than stone.

For a moment, I was back three years ago, when the pack's decree first bound me to Grant.

I was Argentum Town's brightest she-wolf then, my name whispered in awe, my beauty and wit unmatched.

When Alpha Alexander announced I'd be bound to Grant, the war hero, the whole town buzzed.

Everyone knew his heart belonged to another-Delilah, the orphaned she-wolf he'd saved from the battlefield.

He cherished her like a rare gem.

If not for her low status, which Alpha Alexander deemed unfit, he'd have bound himself to her long before.

I begged the Alpha to reconsider, kneeling through the night to spare myself a lifetime of misery. All I got was a cold, "This is the pack's will. You will not defy it."

The years that followed proved my fears right.

On our binding night, Grant left me alone to gaze at the moon with Delilah, skipping even the sacred rites.

I sat in an empty room, the pack's laughter echoing in my ears.

Three years, and he never once entered my chambers.

When I fell ill, he didn't care. At pack feasts, he paraded Delilah on his arm, leaving me to face the pitying stares of the crowd.

The worst was when I tried to reach him, to bridge the gap. His response was always the same, cold and final: "Delilah is my one true mate. You're in the Morgan pack now, so play your part and stay out of the way. My heart belongs to her alone."

I endured it for three years. But saving Isabella's life earned me this chance to break free, and I wasn't letting it slip away.

When I returned to the Morgan estate, I barely crossed the courtyard before a soft, syrupy voice called out.

"Helena, you're back?" Delilah stood under the veranda, her eyes locked on the ornate box carried by the palace attendant behind me.

"Heard Isabella showered the Morgan pack with some fine treasures."

I met her gaze coolly.

"These are mine, gifted to me by Isabella."

Her smile didn't waver, but she stepped forward, reaching for the box.

"Oh, Helena, don't be like that. Isabella wouldn't just gift you something out of the blue. These are for the Morgan pack, aren't they? You're just holding them. Surely you're not planning to keep all that for yourself."

I shifted, blocking her path. "Watch yourself, Delilah. These are Luna's gifts to me. You've got no claim to them."

A flicker of irritation crossed her face before she lunged, grabbing my wrist to yank me aside. Pain shot through me, and I shoved her back instinctively.

She stumbled, nearly falling.

A shadow moved fast, catching her.

Grant's cold eyes locked on me, his voice like ice. "What are you doing?"

I glanced at my wrist, marked with red scratches, then at him shielding Delilah. My chest ached, sharp and raw.

"She tried to take Isabella's gifts," I said, my voice steady despite the trembling in my fingers.

Delilah's eyes welled up, her voice quivering.

"Grant, I swear, Helena's trying to hog the Luna's gifts for herself. I only said a few words, and she pushed me."

Grant's brow furrowed, his gaze slicing through me. "Helena, you come from a noble pack. Why stoop to fighting over trinkets? I've told you before-anything in this estate Delilah wants, she can have."

I laughed, a bitter sound that didn't reach my eyes.

"These aren't the pack's, Grant. They're mine, from Isabella."

A servant girl, unable to hold back, dropped to her knees.

"General! Helena risked her life to save Luna Isabella. She took a blade to the chest, nearly died. These gifts are hers, specially given!"

Grant's eyes flickered to the faint scar peeking from beneath my collar. He froze, just for a moment.

After a long pause, he said, "If you'd explained that sooner, Delilah wouldn't have misunderstood."

Delilah, seizing the moment, sniffled dramatically.

"Helena, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I just saw how beautiful those things were and got carried away."

Grant glanced at her, then at the box, and turned to me. "You've never cared for fancy things. If Delilah likes them, let her have them."

My fingers went cold.

It was always like this. Over the years, Delilah had taken my jewelry, my paintings, even the jade pendant my mother left me, all under the excuse of "liking" them. And Grant? He'd always say, "Let her have it."

"No," I said, each word sharp and deliberate.

Delilah's eyes brimmed with tears, her lip trembling. Grant's jaw tightened, his patience thinning.

"Delilah's delicate, gentle. Why make a fuss over this?"

I smirked, cold and sharp.

"Delicate? So that makes it okay for her to steal what's mine?"

Grant faltered, caught off guard.

After a moment, he relented slightly.

"Fine. If you're set on keeping them, name your price. I'll meet it if you hand them over."

I almost laughed at the absurdity. For Delilah, he'd bargain with me?

Slowly, I pulled the scroll from my sleeve and held it out. "Alright. Sign this, and she can have everything."

He didn't even glance at it, just grabbed a pen and scrawled his name. Delilah's face lit up, and she eagerly waved for the attendants to cart off the box. Grant turned to follow her.

"Grant," I called, my voice stopping him.

He looked back, his expression distant. "What now?"

I clutched the scroll, wanting to ask-So, you're agreeing to break our bond? But the hurt lodged in my throat, choking the words.

All I managed was a faint, "Never mind."

He assumed I'd been haggling over land or wealth, his tone flat. "I've given you what you asked for. I won't go back on it."

Then he walked away, not sparing me another glance.

I stood there, watching his retreating figure, my grip tightening on the scroll.

Ten days. Just Ten days, and I'd finally be unbound. Free.

Back in my quarters, I dove into sorting the estate's ledgers.

I tallied every account book, inventory key, and land deed, stacking them into neat piles until my fingers ached. Nora, my loyal maid, watched with a pained expression.

"Helena, are you really handing all this over?"

I ran my fingers over the ink-stained pages, my voice calm but firm.

"If I'm leaving, these don't belong to me anymore."

The next morning, Grant strode into the estate just as I stood outside the study, surrounded by crates of ledgers. His brow furrowed. "What's all this?"

I met his gaze evenly. "I'm turning over the estate's management to you, starting today."

His eyes darkened, but before he could respond, Delilah swept in from the veranda, her voice syrupy sweet. "Helena, what's going on? Why're you suddenly stepping away from running the place?"

Her eyes gleamed as she looped her arm through Grant's, her tone turning coy. "Grant, if Helena's tired, maybe. I could give it a shot?"

He glanced at her, then nodded. "Fine."

From that day on, Delilah took full control of the Morgan estate.

She spent recklessly, throwing coin around like it was nothing, and used her new authority to make my life hell. First, she slashed my courtyard's monthly allowance, claiming the estate was " strapped for cash."

Then came the moldy silks and cracked porcelain she sent my way. Eventually, meals started showing up late-or not at all.

Nora's eyes blazed with fury.

"Helena! She's doing this on purpose!"

I pulled out my personal stash of silver and handed it to her. "Go buy some food."

She stomped her foot.

"You're just gonna let her walk all over you?"

I gazed out the window at the swirling snow, my voice soft.

"Not for long. Soon, I'll be free."

But Delilah wasn't done with me.

Three days later, she "fell ill."

Word spread that the grand Morgan estate didn't even have enough coin to buy moonflower for her medicine.

Grant stormed into my courtyard, his voice sharp as a blade.

"How did you manage this place all these years? There's not a dime left in the accounts!"

I'd seen this coming. I handed him the ledgers I'd prepared, my tone steady.

"When I turned over the books, the estate had a surplus of three thousand ounces of silver. If the money's gone, Grant, you should be asking Delilah, not me."

He flipped through the pages, his frown deepening with every line.

Delilah's face paled. She clutched her chest, coughing dramatically, tears pooling in her eyes. "I-I only bought a few trinkets. How could I have spent it all? Helena said the accounts were tight when she handed them over. I've been running myself ragged managing the estate, and now I'm sick because of it. and she's pinning it all on me!"

Grant's expression softened at her tears.

He turned on me, his voice cold.

"You mismanaged the estate and left Delilah to clean up your mess. Now she's sick because of it!"

A sharp pain stabbed my chest, but before I could speak, Nora dropped to her knees.

"General, please! Helena poured her heart into this estate. She checked the shop ledgers even with a fever, made sure everyone was fed during shortages while she went cold herself, and planned your social obligations months in advance. She's never let the Morgan pack down!"

Grant froze, his gaze shifting to me, conflicted.

Delilah, quick to seize the moment, clutched her forehead and moaned. "Grant. I'm dizzy."

He scooped her into his arms, then looked at me.

"Delilah's too frail to handle this. You're taking back the estate duties." He paused, then added, "And get some moonflower for her medicine."

I watched as he carried her off, not sparing me a backward glance.

A bitter laugh escaped me.

I didn't touch the mess of ledgers he'd left behind.

I just sent the moonflower to Delilah's quarters.

But before dawn, my courtyard door crashed open, Grant's fury cutting through the icy air. I'd barely thrown on a cloak when he grabbed my wrist, his grip bruising. "What did you put in the moonflower?

Delilah drank it and passed out!"

I stared at Grant, stunned. "I didn't do anything."

"Don't lie!" His knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists.

"Where's the antidote?"

"I told you, I didn't-"

"Guards!" Grant cut me off, his voice a sharp command.

"Drag her out and make her kneel in the snow! She stays there until she tells the truth!"

Two burly servants rushed in, grabbing my arms and hauling me outside. The winter wind sliced through my thin clothes like a blade.

"Grant, I swear I didn't-" I struggled, my voice breaking, but the servants forced me to my knees in the snow. The icy flakes soaked through my skirt, clinging to my skin, the cold wrapping around me like a venomous snake.

Grant loomed over me, his eyes hard with suspicion. "The antidote."

My teeth chattered, but I shook my head. "I didn't poison her."

"You'll talk when you're ready to face the truth." He turned to leave. "Kneel there until you do."

The wind howled, snow stinging my face.

At first, I gritted my teeth and held on, but as hours dragged by, my limbs went numb, my fingers purple from the cold. The sun sank, then rose again.

Delilah still hadn't woken, and I'd been kneeling in the frozen yard for a full day and night.

Nora couldn't take it anymore.

She fell to her knees, sobbing as she begged Grant. "Please, General! Let Helena up! She'll die out here!"

Grant stood on the veranda, his gaze icy.

"If she'd confess, she'd have spoken by now."

I forced my eyes up, catching one last glimpse of him snapping a red plum blossom from a branch, hurrying off to comfort Delilah. My vision blurred, the snow and wind swallowing everything as my battered heart finally shattered.

When I came to, every bone in my body ached like it'd been crushed.

Nora was crying, dabbing salve on my frostbitten skin.

"Helena. you're awake."

"How's Delilah?" My voice rasped, barely audible.

"She's fine!" Nora trembled with rage.

"Grant waited until she woke up before letting anyone bring you inside or call a healer!"

She wiped her tears.

"You're Argentum Town's brightest she-wolf, Helena. So many wolves would've killed to be your mate. Why do they get to treat you like this?"

I closed my eyes.

The dull ache in my chest had gone numb, like a piece of me had been carved out, leaving nothing but a hollow space where the wind howled.

For days, I kept to my courtyard, shutting out the world.

The sounds of footsteps and laughter beyond my gate felt like they belonged to another life. I spent hours lying on my cot, staring at the ceiling beams, barely touching the food Nora brought.

Until-

"Helena, Grant's here."

Nora's voice came from the outer room.

I sat up slowly.

Grant stood in the doorway, tall and unyielding as ever.

He glanced at me, his tone flat.

"Let's put this behind us. Don't go after Delilah again. Keep doing your duty as the estate's she-wolf, and tomorrow, you're coming with me to Beta Edric Royce's birthday feast."

I lowered my eyes. "Yes."

On the carriage ride to the feast, Grant sat next to Delilah, passing her a hand warmer, then a heated cloth to wipe her hands.

"Grant, I can manage." she cooed, leaning closer to him.

I stared out the window at the falling snow, like I was in a different world altogether.

Beta Edric's banquet hall sparkled with gold and crystal, packed with guests.

The moment Grant walked in, a crowd of young wolves swarmed him, trading pleasantries. Delilah clung to his side, their closeness obvious, his attention entirely on her. He didn't spare me a single glance.

I watched them quietly, my face blank.

I'd grown used to this-used to the pitying looks from the crowd, used to the sting of being invisible.

"The Morgan pack will now present their gift!" the steward announced, drawing every eye in the hall.

Edric's face lit up as he took the ornate box from a servant, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. But when he opened it, his warm smile froze, his expression darkening to something grim and terrifying. "Who prepared this?"

Curious guests craned their necks.

Inside the box was a headless statue of a longevity deity, the jagged break at its neck stark and eerie.

On a birthday, a gift like this was no less than a curse of early death.