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"We're done." In the darkness, Henry's voice came from behind me, cold as winter steel. We lay in the same bed, but the distance between us felt like an entire frozen ocean. I stared at the rigid line of his muscular back, tracing the rise and fall of his breath in the dark. When he rolled over, the moonlight caught his sharp profile—his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his jaw tight. He'd inherited the classic Bacchus family features—that chiseled bone structure, the strong nose, the thin lips pressed tight. His amber eyes were still sharp in the darkness, but right now, they held no space for me. Ever since four years ago, when I miscarried and the doctor said I'd have trouble conceiving again, things between Henry and me had been falling apart. Thirty-nine days ago, on that rainy night, I saw him holding hands with some strange woman. And that woman's other hand was holding a little girl who carried his blo*dline. In that moment, I bit down so hard that I tasted blo*d—metallic and sharp on my tongue. Our sacred mate bond, the vows we'd made before the Moon Goddess—all of it had become one massive joke. And the pathetic part? I'd actually convinced myself that as long as he came home, as long as he didn't bring that bitch's scent into our bed, I could pretend none of it had happened. My wolf, Lucy, had mocked me for my stupidity and weakness. But I'd stubbornly clung to the last shred of dignity for this political alliance between our two packs. Now he was personally shredding even that. I slipped out of bed and stood by the window. Moonlight outlined my slim figure, my brown hair falling to my waist. Five years of marriage had left faint marks on my face. Those once-bright blue-gray eyes were now clouded with shadows that wouldn't lift. "Fine." My voice was flat as still water. "Tomorrow morning, we go to Sicily. We sealed the mate bond there. We'll end it there." His whole body went rigid. Clearly, he hadn't expected me to agree so easily. This coward couldn't even turn around to face me. He fled from our bedroom like he was escaping the plague, leaving me alone in the suffocating darkness. The second the door closed, I couldn't hold it together anymore. I threw myself at the bed, tearing at his pillow like a madwoman. Feathers exploded around me like a violent snowstorm. When my fingers touched the fabric that still held his scent—mixed with another woman's—my stomach lurched. I stumbled to the bathroom and dry-heaved over the toilet. Twenty years of knowing each other, five years as mates. This was what it came to? My pack, Moon Lake, has a treaty alliance with Henry's pack, Crescent Moon. My grandfather and Henry's grandfather were brothers-in-arms who'd faced de*th together. So Henry and I grew up together. He was only six months older than me, but he'd always seemed so much more mature because the weight of leading Crescent Moon Pack rested entirely on his shoulders. He never fit in with the rest of us. He was already buried in endless combat training. Whenever we gathered, Henry's grandfather would make the two of us spar. I never had any talent for fighting. Every single time, within a minute, he'd have me pinned face-down in the dirt. He never gloated about it. He'd just look down at me with that serious face and say I looked like an angry kitten when I was mad. That comment always set me off. I'd storm off to sulk in a corner, and his grandfather would order him to come make it up to me. His idea of making it up? He'd sneak up behind me with a little mirror, hold it up to my face, and say in that infuriatingly calm voice, "See? Told you. One pissed-off kitten." Every single time, I'd burst into tears and swing at him with my fists. And that was exactly what he wanted. He'd laugh and take off running, enjoying every second of me chasing him around the training grounds. I'd scream after him, hurling threats I had no way of keeping. Maybe even my wolf enjoyed those chases. Sometimes, at the edge of the training grounds, there'd be a boy from the North named Ryan watching us quietly. He'd been sent for exchange training. He had these impossibly bright green eyes and always kept to himself in the corners. Looking back now, those eyes seemed to see right through the unbalanced game Henry and I played. That memory ambushed me in my dreams without warning. But when I opened my eyes, that boy who used to laugh as I chased him was gone. In his place was a man who couldn't even stand sleeping in the same bed with me. He'd rather curl up on the living room couch. At three in the morning, I found myself walking to the living room like a ghost. There he was—this Alpha who never flinched on the battlefield—curled up on that pathetically small couch like a defeated challenger, clutching a pillow to his chest. My wolf was howling in my head, urging me to bare my claws and tear out his throat. But the hand that should have delivered de*th betrayed both me and my wolf. It grabbed a blanket and covered him. I didn't know if he was faking, but I hoped he really was asleep. That way I wouldn't have to face him. I sat by the window all night. When the first rays of dawn broke through the darkness, one thought struck me like lightning: everything between us had always been nothing more than a transaction. A political marriage carefully orchestrated by two packs. He'd torn up the contract in the most shameless way possible. And I was the only one in this deal who'd caught real feelings. At seven forty, the alarm clock's shrill cry tore through the morning silence. Henry was already in the kitchen. He'd made coffee, toasted bread, and set it all on the table. Now he was carefully wiping up a few drops of water on the counter with a paper towel. In the past, every morning had started with him handing me a cup of coffee. He always woke up before me to make my coffee in my favorite mug, with one spoonful of cream, no sugar—five years as mates, never once different. Those were the only minutes of the day that didn't belong to the Alpha and Luna. Before we threw ourselves into pack business, those few minutes belonged only to Henry and me. Everyone in the pack said I had the perfect mate, an Alpha who spoiled his Luna down to her bones. For one second, my hollowed-out body and exhausted wolf soul almost believed last night had just been a nightmare. That Henry was still that flawless mate. I sat down and took a sip of coffee. "Have you eaten anything, Henry? Sicily's a long drive. We should get going." Henry whipped around. His strong hands gripped the edge of the wooden counter so hard I thought he might splinter it. His muscles were tense, his eyes burning with something I couldn't read. "Are you really that desperate to break our mate bond?" I frowned. I didn't understand his sudden accusation. He was the one who'd asked to end it. And now he was accusing me of being desperate? Ridiculous. This was absolutely ridiculous. "We're already at this point. What's the point of asking that now?" I shot back. Just like I'd never ask him: "Henry, tell me—in all those twenty-plus years we've known each other, did you love me even for one second?" I kept going. "Would refusing you change anything? Could we go back to how things were? I know your heart's not with me anymore, Henry. Staying together would just be torture for both of us." "You're right. Ten minutes. We leave in ten minutes." He nodded, his eyes flashing with something complicated I couldn't decipher. Right then, my phone buzzed with another text from an unknown number. It read: [Five hours left.] Starting three days ago, I'd been getting these bizarre countdown texts every morning. I had no idea who was sending them. Probably just a prank. I didn't have time for pointless distractions. I deleted it. Autumn always hits Sicily fast and hard. After just a couple of rounds of sea winds, the roadside trees go from green to withered yellow, leaves dropping one by one to expose bare branches ready for winter's ice and snow. I watched the falling leaves through the car window. For a brief moment, I actually wanted to reach out and catch one. Henry's voice cut in, reminding me not to stick my hand out the window. By the time we reached central Sicily, the place was already crowded with couples. Watching them act so lovey-dovey made me think of when Henry and I had bonded here. That day had been brutally hot. I'd been teasing Henry relentlessly because he—that perpetually cool and collected Alpha—was so nervous he kept tugging at his collar. "Nervous, huh?" I'd stood on my tiptoes, whispering in his ear, my voice full of barely contained laughter. He'd glared at me, but those amber eyes held no anger. Just overwhelming tenderness. "This is forever for us. Of course I'm nervous," he'd muttered, his voice rough. When Henry finally left his mark on my neck, the entire world melted into a whirlpool of sensation—pine, musk, and that oakmoss scent that was uniquely his, which made me feel safe. It wasn't pain. It was completion. A searing, perfect brand declaring my belonging, making my wolf sing with joy deep in my soul. "Look at you," he'd laughed softly, his chest vibrating against me, "grinning like an idiot." "You're not much better," I'd shot back, poking his chest with my finger. "That whole 'I finally got her' look on your face isn't very Alpha-like." He hadn't argued. He'd just pulled me tight against him, burying his face in my hair, wrapping me completely in his scent. "I did get you. You're my Luna, my everything. From now on, forever." These memories still felt like yesterday, crystal clear in my mind. But our mate bond was already at its end. We stood before the ancient Moon Goddess altar—the place where countless mates had sealed their sacred bonds. Today it would be the grave of our relationship. Henry took a deep breath before speaking. "In the presence of the Moon Goddess, I, Henry Bacchus, formally reject you, Clara Grayson, as my mate." Each word was like a silver da*ger dipped in poison, stabbing straight into my soul. The moment the words fell, I felt something in my chest violently tear open. That thread connecting our souls was being brutally ripped apart. "Ah!" I couldn't stay standing. My knees slammed hard onto the cold stone. The taste of blo*d filled my throat. I saw Henry's stoic face twist with pain, too. He staggered back a step, catching himself against the stone pillar behind him to keep from falling. I used every ounce of strength I had, my nails digging into the cracks in the stone, to force myself to lift my head. I looked at him. His eyes held no tears. Only relief. I made my voice as steady as I could. "I, Clara Grayson, accept your rejection, Henry Bacchus." The mate bond shattered completely. Pain ten times worse than before tore through both of us. I coughed up blo*d, spattering it on the stone in front of me. Henry finally couldn't hold himself up either. He dropped to one knee, his face white as a corpse. The ritual was over. He stood up, walked over to me, and held out a tissue. "Are you okay?" I laughed bitterly in my head. He'd just kil*ed everything between us with his own hands, and now he was asking if I was okay with that fake concern? I didn't take the tissue. I just pushed him away coldly. "There's nothing between us anymore, Mr. Bacchus." My distant tone caught him off guard for a moment. But only for a moment. "About this..." He cleared his throat, seeming unsure how to say it, but finally forcing it out. "Before we get the dissolution papers signed by the Council of Elders, can we keep this from the rest of the pack?" I almost laughed out loud. My wolf was screaming in my head. "Kil* him! This coward! He betrayed us and now he wants to use us!" He was scared. Scared that the scandal of his betrayal would get out and damage his glorious Alpha image. I wiped the blo*d from my mouth and looked up at him. "So what you're saying is, you want me to keep playing your Luna in front of everyone, to keep up appearances for you?" He looked away awkwardly. Pathetic and laughable. "Clara, this is about pack stability. The Council of Elders won't approve this easily. Until we find the right moment, we need to maintain the status quo." "Status quo?" I laughed—a dry, harsh sound. "You really think I don't know anything, Henry?" His body froze. I could see his muscles tense beneath that expensive suit. Those amber eyes flashed with panic. "When you were scr*wing that woman, did you think about me? When you were holding your bastard child, did you think about our vows?" I demanded. His face went de*thly pale, but he still tried to deny it. "I... I don't know what you're talking about." "Stop pretending!" I screamed. Thirty-nine days of humiliation and pain exploded in that moment. "Stop performing for me! Thirty-nine days ago, that night with the pouring rain—I saw everything! You were holding her hand, and the little girl next to her carries your blo*d! You dare tell me you don't know what I'm talking about?" That thread connecting our souls was already severed, leaving an empty void that ached in my chest like a wound that would never heal. But seeing his panic now gave me a sick sense of satisfaction. My wolf wanted me to bare my claws and tear off his fake mask. "Her name is Emily. From Red Moon Pack. Your daughter with her is already two years old..." "Clara..." Seeing that I was about to continue, he finally gave up resisting, his voice hoarse. "I can explain all of this."