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Damien Blackwood noticed I hadn’t submitted an expense request in three days. He assumed I’d finally learned how to be a “proper Luna,” so he texted me like he was handing out charity: “I reinstated your foster mother’s treatment.” “Behave. Stop using ‘emergencies’ as an excuse to beg for money.” “I know unmarked wolves have it rough, but my treasury isn’t a charity.” What he didn’t know— by the time that message landed, I’d already drafted the paperwork to dissolve our mate bond. When I left, the only things I could take were the white T-shirt and old jeans I wore when I first married into this pack. No one would believe it: the Luna everyone thought lived in luxury couldn’t even fill her closet with four decent dresses after three years of bonding. Every coin I spent had to go through pack approval. Every gown, every piece of jewelry was locked in a safe. If I needed anything, I had to apply to Damien’s chief Pack Secretary—Serene Voss. Because Damien despised where I came from. In his mind, people who climbed up from the bottom always “lose control,” “waste money,” “embarrass the pack.” But three days ago, my foster mother crashed. I requested two hundred thousand for surgery and blood-bond medicine. Serene deliberately held the approval—until my foster mother died inside a healing pod. Damien didn’t know this: I’d endured him for years for one reason—his pack’s medical access was the only thing keeping her alive. Now she was gone. And I had no reason to stay. ***** I asked Damien to dissolve our mate bond. He didn’t even look up. He sent a cold message.: “Stop acting.” When he talked to me, his eyes never left the war reports and financial terminal on his desk—as if those cold numbers deserved more attention than I did. I lowered my gaze, but my voice didn’t shake. “I’m not acting. I’m leaving. I’m ending the bond.” Damien stood, slow and irritated, his expression icy. “Your foster mother’s treatment was paused because I approved it. Not Serene.” “She followed my rules.” “And if you hadn’t gone feral outside the council hall, I wouldn’t have had to teach you a lesson.” “I already ordered the Healers’ Circle to resume it yesterday.” Then he checked his watch like I was wasting his life. “My time is expensive. I’m not sitting here while you throw tantrums.” He walked out before I could answer. Because he was sure I’d do what I always did—crawl back. Lower my head.And then begged humbly.. Like I had every other time. Even when he’d said it to my face: “Don’t look at me like that. You look like you’re begging. It’s disgusting.” And I would smile anyway. Stay quiet. Keep being the obedient shadow. But now? Whether treatment resumed or not didn’t matter anymore. If three days ago Damien had answered my emergency messages, maybe I would’ve crushed my pride again and stayed. But he never bothered to read my messages. That night I was on my knees outside the healing ward, calling him over and over—praying he’d respond. And all of it lost to one soft little whine from Serene: “Is the Luna mad because I reminded her to follow procedure?” “I don’t mean anything by it… I just don’t want her dragging her poor-girl habits into pack affairs.” “I tightened the approval process for her own good. She needs to learn.” After that, Damien became even more impatient. He didn’t even let me finish. He cut me off with one cold order: “Do it Serene’s way.” It had always been like this. “I’m busy. Go through my Pack Secretary.” “Listen to my Pack Secretary.” “Whatever she tells you to do—do it.” I was his mate… and I had no dignity in this pack. Even when I had to attend pack banquets as Luna, I couldn’t just show up. I had to submit an application to Serene. Every time, she smiled like she was being helpful while she rejected it like it meant nothing: “Luna, your reason isn’t detailed enough. Rewrite it.” “The banquet ends at ten. Why did you request access until midnight? Not compliant.” “Luna, you do this every time. I told you not to submit unless it’s perfect.” She always approved it at the last possible second— then watched me run around like a desperate servant trying to borrow a necklace, a dress, basic dignity. Sometimes I still arrived late. And Damien would stare at me in public, voice sharp as a whip: “Elara. Can you manage time at all?” “Serene never makes mistakes.” But I couldn’t do it. I never could. Because his “perfect Pack Secretary” never allowed me to be on time. Just like he knew my foster mother couldn’t stop medication, couldn’t wait— and still snapped at me like it was my fault: “How many times do I have to tell you? If you need money, go to Serene.” “She wouldn’t deny you.” Getting money from Serene had always been a battle. “What kind of ‘emergency’ costs two hundred thousand at once? Luna, are you using illness as an excuse again?” “That’s a huge amount. Attach itemized billing first. Rejected.” I explained it was a prepayment. Detailed billing only comes after discharge. Serene just smiled, like she was innocent. “Ohhh, I see. My family is healthy, so I don’t know these things.” “But pack funds have strict compliance. We can’t break rules.” “How about you ask the hospital for a ‘process certificate’? I’ll reject this one for now.” Then she added later: “Medical institutions can fake paperwork, you know. I’m not saying you would—just saying it’s possible.” “Maybe attach the Healers’ Circle regulations too?” And like that, she dragged it out. Dragged it out a very, very long time. By the time the money cleared, even the best healers couldn’t save her. Hatred and suffocation stabbed my heart like needles. This mate bond was a cage. I had to get out. And once I decided what I was going to do, I felt lighter—like shackles had finally fallen off my bones. So when I saw Serene’s “moonlit photo” meant to provoke me— her standing beside Damien, wearing his cloak like she was the real Luna— I didn’t react. I calmly saved the screenshot. And liked it. Of course, the moment Serene was involved, Damien’s messages came fast. “Serene’s been executing perfectly lately. I took her to dinner as her Alpha.” “Don’t play petty games and make people misunderstand.” Then, like an order: “Since you liked it, don’t undo it. Undoing it makes you look guilty.” “Leave a comment. Praise her work—make it ‘from both of us’ as encouragement.” I didn’t want to respond. But the bitterness had been sitting in my chest for years. So I did it. I commented: “Pack Secretary Voss is truly devoted.” “She treats me—the Luna—and pack members equally, using approvals to put her authority on full display.” “Keep it up. Karma doesn’t miss forever.” “Every coin you ‘save’ for the pack today becomes shared property in your future promotion. Applause.” Then I tossed my phone aside and started packing. It didn’t take long. Because nothing in this house was really mine. All the “valuable” things were sealed behind a moon-silver wardrobe lock and a triple-layer safe. I lived here like a temporary guest. My existence barely left a trace. Now that I’d finally opened my eyes, I understood the truth: I was never treated like a mate. Chapter 2 Damien came home fast. I almost laughed—when it came to Serene, he was never late. He acted like he didn’t see my small suitcase by the door. His brows were tight with anger. “I texted you. You didn’t respond.” Flatly, I said, “I saw it. I didn’t want to.” Damien looked at me like I’d said something ridiculous. “I told you why I had dinner with her. She earned it.” “You know half the pack already misunderstands her. Your comment—how is she supposed to lead now?” I couldn’t help the cold laugh. “So people aren’t blind after all. Someone noticed what she’s been doing.” Then I met his eyes. “And I’m not her mother. Why should I care whether she’s comfortable in the pack?” His face darkened. “Elara, when did you become the type to believe gossip?” “You know how hard it is for a young Beta woman to stand at the center of power in a wolf society.” “Why would you humiliate another capable woman like this?” His gaze was tired—judging, like I’d disappointed him. “You want to live like a caged bird who contributes nothing? Fine. I’ve been willing to feed you.” “But not every woman is as shortsighted and useless as you.” Then he paused—like pulling out the sharpest weapon in his pocket. “If you keep targeting Serene…” “Think about your foster mother.” I actually laughed. It wasn’t humor. It was pain. I opened my suitcase right in front of him. “Luxury?” “Look at the luxury life you gave me.” “I can’t even find four decent dresses in this house.” “A haircut. A bottle of medicine. I have to submit paperwork to your Pack Secretary.” “A kitchen servant earns more in a month than your Luna.” I dragged him to the wardrobe and pointed at the moon-silver lock. “You know how this opens?” “Code first. Fingerprint. Then a mind-mark scan.” “You don’t even lock the armory this tight.” “What kind of Luna lives like this—like a mistress begging permission from an Pack Secretary?” Damien looked genuinely confused. He actually asked: “This is why?” “This is why you’re jealous of Serene and went to the council hall to ruin her reputation?” My heart sank. Everything I’d said was meaningless to him. If he’d ever believed this was humiliation, he never would’ve allowed it to exist for three years. I lowered my eyes. “Whatever.” “Believe what you want.” “I’m dissolving the bond. We’re done.” Damien laughed—like he finally “understood” the game. “Enough. I’m not here to entertain you.” “You’re just jealous. Fighting for attention with my Pack Secretary.” “Don’t assume every woman is as small and bitter as you.” He smoothed the wrinkle I’d pulled into his sleeve, like he was generously compromising. “Tomorrow, I’ll have the Healers’ Circle send the best treatment pod.” “I’ll tell Serene to give you the lock codes to the wardrobe and safe. I’ll switch the fingerprints to yours.” “I’ll authorize a monthly allowance—one hundred thousand. No approvals needed.” To him, that was the maximum concession. But I was tired of this three-person bond. No—maybe I’d never truly been in it. He offered a pile of promises and didn’t mention Serene’s sabotage once. Because he didn’t care. Which meant if I stayed, Serene would keep crushing me under the word “procedure.” “I don’t want anything,” I said. “I want the bond dissolved.” Damien finally realized I wasn’t playing. His anger snapped loose. “Elara, don’t forget our bonding agreement. If you leave, you don’t get a single coin.” “And your foster mother’s treatment—without me, do you think your foster father will give a damn about her?” Of course he wouldn’t. That was why I’d signed the bond in the first place. We were never meant to intersect. This was just life returning to its original path. I pulled the suitcase shut. “Do whatever you want,” I said. Damien froze. He didn’t understand why his threats weren’t working anymore. But his pride wouldn’t let him soften. So he watched me walk to the door in silence. When I opened it, he almost called my name— but he remembered what Serene had said: “The Luna is bored. She’s copying romance dramas.” “I’ve seen women like this. Don’t respond. Leave her alone a few days, she’ll crawl back and apologize on her knees.” He shoved a hand into his pocket, irritated, and found only a piece of herbal throat candy. Something I’d mixed myself because he kept coughing in the dry season. “She’s not completely useless,” he told himself. “When she comes back, I’ll make her admit she was wrong.” And just like that, he believed his own lie. Chapter 3 After I left Damien, I hesitated for a long time. Then I went to my mentor. Dr. Maren Holt lived in the oldest stone-wall building in the north district. Dried herbs sat on her windowsill beside dusty old books. When she opened the door and saw my thin suitcase, she didn’t ask anything. She just stepped aside—like she always had. The moment I walked in, I broke. Years ago, when I quit school and accepted the mate bond, she’d fought me harder than anyone. Even on the bonding day, she kept messaging me: “Elara, hardship is temporary.” “Don’t gamble your whole life on a bond. That man looks down on you. You won't be happy with him.” “Everything you give him will be invisible.” “And if you live by reaching your hand out, you’ll live with your head bowed.” Time proved her right. In the beginning, Damien admired my competence. He liked that I could calculate, organize, stay quiet. Then Serene Voss arrived. She said I was “unmarked trash,” that education wouldn’t erase my “low habits.” She said I needed to learn the rules of the upper pack. That I needed “proper spending discipline.” That I needed to be “trained by procedure.” So I became the woman who had to submit forms to exist. Damien could approve, deny, or approve in a way that humiliated me. I cried until I couldn’t breathe. Then Dr. Holt poured me hot water and spoke like she was assigning homework: “I’m hoping you haven’t lost your skillset.” “I’ve got a project. Border territory. We’re collecting moonstone-vein data and magical spring hydrology.” “You’ll be in water, in mountains, awake at night. It’s hard work.” She looked at me. “Are you in, or not?” I froze. I didn’t expect her to offer me a way back to myself. She frowned slightly, that familiar sharpness in her voice: “What? Been a Luna too long? Can’t handle worker-life anymore?” Tears still on my face, I smiled—real, for the first time in years. “I can. Professor. For myself… I can handle anything.” She nodded, decisive. “Then contact the team. This isn’t a love story. No time for heartbreak.” So I joined the field team. At first, I struggled. No heating in the camp. Wind cutting through rock cracks at night. Carrying equipment over mountains. Mud and water in my boots every day. Waking up at three a.m. to catch the most stable magic-flow window at the upper spring. But the longer I worked, the more my body remembered. The procedures, the calculations, the instincts—everything came back. I got faster. Cleaner. Better. Even our stone-faced lead, Grant Ryder, finally said: “I thought you’d be fragile. You’re not.” I laughed. “Everyone’s been looking out for me. Otherwise I wouldn’t adapt this fast—” And then a voice cut through the trees. “Elara?” I turned. Serene Voss stood at the edge of the treeline in a city-sharp outfit, silver-gray cloak, the newest travel case in her hand—like a queen who’d wandered into a mud camp. Her gaze skimmed over my teammates’ dirty gear, and her mouth curved with quiet contempt. “So this is why you’re suddenly screaming about dissolving the bond.” “Same old habits. The second you leave the pack, you go back to running with… low-grade wolves.” The way she said “low-grade” made it sound like rot. My face went cold. We were dirty and exhausted, yes—but that didn’t give her the right to spit on us. “Serene,” I said evenly, “are you a bloodhound? Wherever I go, you show up.” Her expression flickered— and then the air behind her shifted. A familiar presence stepped out. Black coat. Straight shoulders. That Alpha pressure that makes the forest feel smaller. Damien Blackwood. As he walked closer, a few of my teammates tensed on instinct. You don’t “ignore” an Alpha. Your body hears him before your brain does. “What’s going on?” Damien asked, voice flat. Serene’s eyes turned glossy instantly. Perfect timing. Perfect weakness. “Nothing…” “It’s just—Luna’s been gone so long, and today I found her following a bunch of questionable people all the way out here.” She paused like she was sparing me the shame. “I just wanted to talk her down. Tell her not to ruin herself.” I nearly laughed. I didn’t even bother explaining. Damian's gaze fell on me, his brow furrowed, his expression showing that he once again trusted his secretary without a doubt. “Elara. Are you bullying Serene again?” “If you’re here to apologize—start with her.” I rolled my eyes and turned away. A girl beside me whispered, “Elara… who are they?” I answered without slowing down. “My blind, brain-dead ex-mate.” “And his most loyal Pack Secretary.” Damien’s face darkened. His voice tightened with controlled anger. “You tracked me all the way here—how long are you going to keep this up?” “You’ve been away from the pack for days. You haven’t checked on your foster mother once.” “Where the hell is your conscience?” Then he did what he always did—pulled out the sharpest threat. “You really want me to cut off her treatment right now?” I looked at him. All I felt was exhaustion. “Go ahead,” I said. “You’re good at that, aren’t you?” Damien’s expression froze for a fraction of a second—like something stabbed him. Then he forced it down, like he had to prove he still owned the ground beneath me. He raised his phone.. Serene’s face flashed with panic. She lifted a hand to stop him, voice small. “Alpha… don’t. Luna she’s just—” Damien shook her off. “She needs a lesson.” “Otherwise she’ll never learn how to be a proper Luna.” The line connected. Noah, his second-in-command, answered. “Alpha.” Damien’s voice was calm. Military calm. “Terminate all medical access and blood-bond supply for Elara’s foster mother.” “Now.” There was silence on the other end of the phone. Then Noah’s voice came back low—strained. “Alpha…” “Luna’s foster mother… passed away last month.” “Her treatment was discontinued three days before her death.” Damien went still. Due to the word limit, please download PickNovel and search for 55080 in the app to continue reading more exciting content. Click the button below to get that immediately.

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