Aria's POV I sent ten mindlinks to my mate. He ignored every single one. Our pup was gone. I never even got the chance to tell my Alpha mate, Damon, that he had existed. Then, a familiar scent drifted past—pine and leather. I lifted my eyes in shock. "Da—" The word died in my throat. The door to the VIP ward stood slightly ajar. My gaze fell to the narrow gap. My Alpha husband—my mate—sat on the edge of the hospital bed, another woman gathered in his arms. His hand covered hers, his thumb stroking gently over her knuckles, soothing her as though she were something fragile and precious. The woman on the bed shifted, turning her head toward the door. I saw her face, and my heart withered. Claudia. Damon's first love. The afternoon light poured through the window, falling across her abdomen. There was a curve there—faint, but unmistakable. No... it couldn't be. My breath hitched. I gripped the armrests of the wheelchair until my knuckles went white. "Get every specialist here. Now." Damon's voice carried through the crack in the door—deep and controlled, yet threaded with a frantic edge I had never once heard him use with me. "I want her and the baby completely safe." The baby. The words landed like a death sentence. Just hours ago, in this same hospital, I had been the one on that cold table, listening to a doctor tell me with clinical pity, "I'm sorry, Luna. After three hours, we couldn't stabilize the heartbeat." And the ten mindlinks I'd sent him, begging him to come—every single one coldly blocked. Now I understood why. He hadn't missed them. He had simply been too busy comforting another pregnant woman. "Move along." A guard posted at the VIP door stepped in front of me without warning. "This is the Alpha's private ward, reserved for his mate. Please leave." Reserved for his mate. I turned the words over in my head, the irony bitter as bile on my tongue. As the Luna of the Silvermoon Pack, as Damon Hawthorne's wife of two years, I was the one left standing outside that door—turned away by a guard for that very reason. I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat was bone dry. I had cried until my voice was gone, my vocal cords rusted shut. Not a single sound would come. "Luna..." The nurse steadied my wheelchair, her voice barely a whisper, heavy with apology. "The Alpha gave the order... this suite has to be cleared for Miss Stone now. The regular rooms are all full today, so... let me take you to sort out your discharge paperwork." Discharge. My child was barely gone. My body was still bleeding. I hadn't so much as had a sip of water. And now I was being turned out of the hospital—because she needed my room. The wheelchair turned slowly. I didn't resist. But as I was wheeled away, I stole one last look through the crack in the door. A warm amber light glowed inside. Damon's silhouette stayed perfectly still, his head bowed, his attention fixed entirely on the woman in the bed. That light spilled through the gap and across the cold corridor floor—but it never reached me. An hour later, I walked back into the foyer of the Alpha's mansion. The first thing my eyes landed on was the cardboard box on the table. I'd moved it in last month. Inside were all the tiny clothes I'd carefully chosen—the softest fabric I could find, pale colors, simple designs. According to pack tradition, a pregnancy wasn't considered safe until the three-month mark. I'd waited the full twelve weeks, carefully arranging those clothes in that box, waiting for the right day to tell him. I'd imagined Damon's expression a thousand times—hoped for just one second of him being moved, or even just a moment of silence. Anything that wasn't him hating me. But now, there was nothing left. Just as I was about to throw the box away, my phone rang. Damon. "Where are you?" His voice bit into me the moment I answered. "Don't tell me you forgot what day it was." I checked the date. The fifteenth. The monthly Hawthorne family dinner—a rule established by Walter Hawthorne, the former Alpha. No family member was allowed to miss it unless they had a life-or-death emergency. "I'm not feeling well tonight," I said, trying to keep my voice from cracking. "You should go alone." "Not feeling well?" He let out a cold, sharp laugh, a casual disgust in the sound, as if he were evaluating a particularly cheap trick. "Aria, you schemed and manipulated your way into this marriage to claim the Luna position. This is the price you pay. Get over here. I don't care what's wrong with you." "I'm not lying to you... Damon, I really don't feel well..." My voice was so thin I could barely hear it myself. "Don't test my patience." His voice dropped, carrying a streak of undisguised brutality. "Grandfather is holding the family evaluation tonight. As Luna, if you don't show up, you'll disgrace the entire Hawthorne line. I don't care if you're on your deathbed—you will be there." Before the dial tone could sound, I hung up. I didn't dare listen for another second. If I stayed on the line, I might have told him about the baby. But what would that accomplish? He'd probably just ask if I was trying to threaten him with some "bаst3rd child." I couldn't imagine a scenario where he felt even a flicker of sorrow. How pathetic. I placed my phone face-down on the bed and sat in the darkness until I finally forced myself to change into a dress. The woman in the mirror was deathly pale; it took layers of heavy foundation to mask the ghostliness of my skin. The dress fit perfectly, making me look like an elegant, dignified Luna—not like a she-wolf who had just lost her pup, her body still bleeding. The driver was already waiting at the door, bowing as he opened the car. "Luna, please." Damon was already inside, leaning against the far window. The passing streetlights traced the contours of his profile—cold and merciless. Suddenly, his phone rang. He answered almost immediately. "Claudia?" His voice shifted instantly, becoming low and intimate. "You're awake? What was wrong?" I turned my head further toward the glass. "Don't be afraid. I'm here. You and the baby will be fine," he continued. "The dinner will be over soon. I promised I'd be back before you fell asleep." The car's heater was running full blast, making the cabin stifling, but my hands and feet were ice. I was frozen from the inside out. Two years. We'd been married that long, and I had never known he could be this tender. The call lasted a long time. When he finally hung up, the car fell into a silence even deeper than before. I could feel that the expression on his face hadn't quite hardened yet; the tenderness he reserved for Claudia still lingered. Maybe it was the blood loss making me lose my sanity, or maybe I'd just reached the breaking point where nothing mattered anymore. I turned my head and heard myself speak. "Claudia... when did she come back?" Damon's profile darkened. He turned to look at me with the expression of someone just remembering I was there. "That's none of your concern." I offered a small, hollow smile and looked away. I knew the truth. In everyone's eyes, I was the villain who had torn them apart—the one who had used my family's last bargaining chip, leveraging Alpha Walter's influence to force myself into Damon's life. He hated me, and he hadn't bothered to hide it for a single day of our marriage. If not for that accident years ago... No. There were no more "ifs." I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the window, trying to regain some clarity. Somewhere deep in my chest, My wolf, Lydia had stopped struggling. She wasn't dying—she was just finally letting go. Giving up. Damon. I whispered his name silently in my mind. This would probably be the last time. The last time I'd sit in this car, heading to that family dinner with you.

Damon's POV Aria was sitting next to me. Her head tilted slightly to the side, eyes empty and unfocused. Normally she'd brighten up the second she saw me. I told myself to look away. But my chest tightened with a dull, nagging pain I couldn't ignore. Our mate is hurting. Go to her. Comfort her. My wolf, Rhein, howled in discomfort inside me, his claws scraping against my nerves. Again. Reminding me of that absurd, infuriating truth. Mate? No. She wasn't. She was the daughter of the man who killed my best friend. The wedge driven between me and Claudia. The greatest mistake of my life. I didn't know why the Moon Goddess had shackled us together, but I would never accept it. She didn't deserve to be my mate. Quiet, I snapped. Rhein let out a frustrated sigh and went still. Maybe I'd convinced him. Or maybe he'd given up trying to convince me. Two years, and we still had these pointless arguments. Fight. Convince. Then silence. A terrible, familiar silence descended in the car. Same as always. But not quite. The silence, that faint scent of hers—for no reason, it pulled me back to another night. Our wedding night. That room had been just as silent. Moonlight cut through the windowpanes, painting prison bars on the floor. Aria Grayson. No— Aria Hawthorne now. My mate. My sentence. She sat quietly, a silhouette against the room, wearing a white silk nightgown that followed the curves of a body I had no right to want and every reason to hate. She looked up as I entered. I saw her eyes. Light brown. Soft amber. In the dim light, they looked warm. And innocent. Too innocent. That was the problem. As if nothing bad had ever touched her in her life. But how could that be? She was a murderer's daughter. I remembered Liam's tragic death. Rage, hot and unchecked, boiled in my blood. I reached out, my hand closing around her jaw. My claws pricked her skin. "Damon… please…" She whimpered my name, so fragile, so helpless… I knew that with a little more pressure, I could break her. I was going to. But she bled. A small wound. But the moment the blood welled up—sweet, coppery, hot—it was like breaking a seal. A thin red line traced down her skin, past the blush of her peach-soft curves, and disappeared into the shadow where moonlight pooled between her brests. My gaze locked on it. Beneath my palm, her pulse beat frantically against my skin. Each throb felt like a gasp. Again. And again. Soft, but relentless—each one a small, wet sound teasing the edges of my control. Dam, the sweet torture. Then her scent hit me. A strange, aggressively sweet fragrance forced its way into my senses. Dangerous. Luscious. Hot… so potent it made my blood stall. It was unlike anything I'd ever known. It felt like poison wrapped in sugar, designed specifically for me. Her head was forced back, her n**k a fragile, arched line. A silent invitation. Bite it. A primal, bone-deep snarl erupted in my skull. My canines ached with a sharp, maddening itch. A violent cocktail of bloodlust and raw possession burned up my spine. Mark her! Now! Rhein roared in the depths of my consciousness, completely captivated by her scent. He wanted her. Or—we wanted her. The deep-seated, ancient drive for a fated mate was awake, and it was fire. My instincts pulled hard—urging me closer, to breathe her in deeper, to claim her, to cover everything with my mark. "Damon…" Her voice trembled. Her skin was flushed from near-asphyxiation. I jrked back as if burned, releasing her. She slumped, clutching her throat, gasping for air. On the white silk of her gown, blood was spreading fast. A vicious poppy blooming in snow. The crimson seared my eyes. The next second, the red twisted, swam, and suddenly I wasn't seeing her dress—I was seeing Liam's blood—dark, cold—pooling beneath him. The same color. But Liam was dead. And his killer's daughter was in my bed—our wedding bed. I felt my blood cool and congeal in my veins. All I felt in my fingertips was cold numbness. To hll with fate. To hll with the Moon Goddess. Standing before her, breathing in that cursed, irresistible scent that made my instincts scream, I felt lost for the first time in my life. A prisoner of destiny. I thought back to what Grandfather told me before the wedding, his voice old but calm: "Damon, blood debts must be paid in blood. The Elder Council has confirmed it—Aria Grayson is your fated mate. The Moon Goddess has shown her sign. This marriage will let us swallow the Grayson family whole. They'll repay their debt with their daughter." "What about Liam?" I'd asked. "Does his death just get erased?" And Claudia. My love. Even thinking of her name made my jaw clench. "Liam's death was a tragedy," he'd replied. "But the Graysons will pay. Binding them through marriage is control—it's restitution. As for that girl, Claudia—she has no future as a Luna. The Council will not allow it. If you choose her, you know what will happen." I knew. They would erase her. I understood then. This wasn't a wedding. It was a sacrifice. And I was the one being led to the altar. Aria must have sensed the shift. Her lashes fluttered. Her fingers curled slightly in her l*p. Something flashed in her eyes. Pain? Fear? Another performance. The Graysons were good at that. "I know…" she began, her eyes still red-rimmed. "This marriage isn't what you wanted. If you want to end it—" "We can break the bond." Break the bond? Such a light way to put it. Her fake, modest act disgusted me even more. "You think I believe you?" I grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. "From the moment you made your father kneel before the Council and beg for our marriage, from the moment you hid behind fate, you made your choice." I leaned in closer. "You got everything you wanted by stepping over Liam's body." "Please," she said, eyes wide. "You're hurting me." Rhein snarled inside me, pacing, furious and confused, torn between hatred and that dаmed, undeniable pull I couldn't switch off. "You'll beg," I told her. "Not just tonight. Every day. I'll make sure you remember exactly how much I hate you." I pushed her down onto the bed. She flinched, hands flying to her mouth. Tears fell freely now. "Go on," I sneered. "Cry. Makes the act more convincing." I tore the silk. She trembled beneath me. My wolf went wild, feral, out of control. "I'll claim you," I growled. "Since you wanted it so badly." I claimed her. Hard. Without mercy. Her body shuddered. Her cries hit me like live wires, sharp and involuntary. My wolf reveled in the dominance, the possession. "Remember this," I said into her ear, my voice shaking with fury. "You are my mate, but I will never accept you. You're nothing to me." Then it was over. I got up, dressed, grabbed my jacket—and left. From that day, I vowed she'd get nothing from me. No respect. No tenderness. Not even the basic courtesy a husband should give. She wanted power. The Luna's throne. Fine. I'd let her sit on it—alone. I'd make sure she watched me give all my warmth, all my love, to another woman. I'd let her rot in jealousy and regret every single day. The rain was heavier now against the windshield. Big, angry drops. Each one smearing the world outside into a blur of gray and black. Rhein paced inside me, sighing, restless with a frustration born of everything and nothing. "We're here," my driver said. I got out without waiting for her. She followed. Silent. Wait—why did her face look so pale? Too pale. Almost translucent. Her l**s had no color. Then she swayed. My chest tightened. Dam it. stubid instincts. I crushed the feeling immediately.

Aria's POV Walking into the Hawthorne mansion felt like stepping into a beautiful, frozen tomb. "Look who finally decided to show up." A voice cut through like a knife. It was Lilith, Damon's sister, her disdain plain as day. "We thought you were too busy to remember the family gathering." I ignored her and nodded slightly to Damon's mother. "Madam Duran." Her eyes swept over me, then she frowned. "Where's Damon?" She didn't even look at me properly. "He might be taking a call." Her expression softened a fraction before she complained again. "Knowing it's a family gathering, yet still being late. I really don't understand how your family raised you. That's completely rude!" "That's what I'm saying! She can't hold a candle to Claudia!" Lilith said, pulling out her phone. "Mom, look. Claudia just posted on Instagram. She's back, and she's gorgeous. She's a real Luna. Not like... well, some people." I just looked down without a word. Two years of this. I was used to the insults by now. I wasn't even surprised anymore. Dinner began. I moved to the seat farthest from Damon. His rule. In public, we were mates. In private, we were strangers. "Aria. Why are you sitting there?" Damon's grandfather, Walter, frowned, tapping his cane lightly. "Come. Sit by your mate." Silence fell over the room. Every eye turned toward me—some curious, some smirking, others watching with cold detachment. I lifted my gaze to Damon. He was already staring at me, those dark, predatory eyes full of warning and contempt. "Walter," I said, taking a steadying breath, "I'm not feeling well. I'd rather stay here and not spoil everyone's dinner." "That won't do! You're Damon's mate—you belong at his side!" Walter's frown deepened. "Come here. Now." I bit my l*p. When Walter decided something, it was set in stone. Even someone as strong as Damon couldn't say no to his grandfather. I certainly couldn't either. Arguing would be pointless. "...Alright," I said quietly. Under everyone's eyes, I walked over and sat beside Damon. In my peripheral vision, I saw Damon's jaw tighten, his teeth clenching as if he could grind me to dust between them. I had no choice. Walter was the ultimate authority here. No one defied him, not even Damon. The scent of pine and leather enveloped me. Lydia whined softly, drawn to him despite everything. My body tensed, ready to bolt. "That's better," Walter said. "Aria, you look too thin. Come on, eat more." He turned to Damon. "Be a gentleman and fill your mate's plate." "That's not neces—" Before I could finish, a piece of roasted lamb was roughly dropped onto my plate. The strong smell—gamey meat mixed with charred fat—hit me like a punch to the gut. My stomach, already fragile from the hemorrhaging, instantly churned. Nausea and sharp cramps in my lower abdomen exploded at once. I clamped my hand over my mouth and shoved my chair back, trying to run. But before I could stand, a hand like an iron vice clamped around my wrist and slammed me back down into the chair. "What kind of stunt are you pulling now?" Damon's voice was a low, violent whisper against my ear. "I'm not... I just feel sick..." "Sick?" Damon let out a cold laugh. He suddenly stood, his hand gripping my w***t roughly as he half-dragged me from my seat. In the dark corner of a quiet hallway, he pinned me against the cold wall, my arms twisted behind my back. His towering frame radiated absolute dominance. "Putting on that act in front of Grandfather—what, so desperate to make everyone think I'm abusing you?" "I told you, I'm not!" "Shut up." Without another word, his l**s crashed down on mine—cruel and punishing. This wasn't a k**s. It was pure punishment. His teeth tore at my l**s without mercy, splitting them open. The taste of blood flooded my mouth instantly. I shoved desperately at his chest, but the difference in our strength made my resistance meaningless. What was I even being punished for this time? Two years of humbling myself, trying to please him—and in his eyes, it was all just some elaborate, unforgivable act. Looking at his cold face as he tormented me, then remembering how gently he'd held Claudia at the hospital just hours ago— Enough. I was done. "Stop... let go..." I struggled with what little strength I had left. That set him off completely. "Playing innocent with me? Two years ago when you forced me to marry you, where was all this resistance?!" Damon's handsome face twisted like a beast losing control. He pinned both my wrists behind me with one hand, and his fangs sank into the skin at my collarbone. It hurt. The next second, his free hand slid under my dress, fingers closing around my brest—hard. Then it traveled lower, inch by inch, down the curve of my w***t… "Damon, don't…!" I bit down on my l*p, fighting with everything I had to stay quiet. The servants were everywhere. Lydia let out a desperate whimper inside me. And worse—what made me truly despair—my body, bound to him by fated mate instincts, betrayed me. The heat rising from deep in my core despite the violence—it felt good. Too good. And that was the most humiliating part. My body's betrayal hurt a thousand times more than anything Damon was doing to me. "Aria, you should really look at yourself in a mirror right now. Look how shameless you are." The crushing weight on me vanished instantly. Damon straightened up slowly, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief. His eyes held no desire—only cold, condescending mockery. He wasn't аr0used. He was just using the cruelest method possible to trample on my dignity as his Luna. "Drop the pathetic victim act. I'm sick of watching you play innocent." He tossed the blood-stained handkerchief onto my face, straightened his suit, and strode back toward the noisy banquet hall. Without a backward glance. Wind swept through the hallway, scattering the scent of cedar. I curled up alone in a dark corner, listening to the faint pitying sighs of servants drifting in from outside. A vast emptiness was swallowing my soul, piece by piece. Even Lydia had gone silent. Not a sound. I reached up and pulled the bloodied handkerchief off my face. I wasn't crying anymore. I wasn't even shaking. In the hollow where the pain had been, something cold settled in its place. Break the bond. It was the first time I let myself think the words.

Aria's POV I huddled in the corner by the car door on the ride home. Pain cramped through my abdomen in waves. My body still reeling from everything I'd bled away. Suddenly, a phone rang, cutting through the silence. "Claudia?" Damon picked up instantly. The moment I heard his low voice, the cramping in my abdomen intensified. His devotion to another woman tortured me through our blood connection every single moment. I closed my eyes and pressed my hand hard against my stomach, trying to use physical pain to suppress the silent crack splitting open in my chest. The car sped along the dark mountain road, the rain hammering down. Primitive forest stood silent on both sides. "Stop the car." Damon's voice cut through the silence, ice-cold. The screech of brakes echoed through the valley. "Get out." He turned his head slightly, not even sparing me a glance. "Claudia was bleeding. The baby might not make it. I need to get to her." How devoted. What a responsible boyfriend and father-to-be. Just not to me. To someone else. Did you know, Damon? I carried your child too. And our baby died today—because you wouldn't answer my mindlinks. Because you didn't care enough to come. If you knew, would you have cried? Would you even care at all? "Get out! Now!" Damon's impatient voice snapped in my ear. I looked out the window. The streetlights were few and far between, their weak glow like candles in the wind, ready to blink out. The woods were deep and silent. The endless dark felt like a gaping maw waiting to swallow me whole. "Damon... please." My pride shattered completely in that moment. "We're not far from the estate. Can you just take me home first? I really don't feel well." That was all I could say. I couldn't tell him the truth about the miscarriage—that would only make me even more pathetic in this marriage. "I don't have time for your games. Find your own way back." Something inside me shattered. Then came the bitter laugh. How could I have hoped he'd choose me over Claudia? For him, it was never a choice, was it? "Alpha, I just checked with the doctor. Ms. Stone's bleeding is minor, likely stress-related. She just needs rest. It's not serious," the driver spoke up, trying to help. I looked at Damon, my gaze pleading. He was unmoved. "Out. Don't make me repeat myself." How cruel. But staring at that cold, unfeeling face, I felt myself start to smile. It was the kind of smile that's worse than tears—hollow and desperate. Damon's POV I glanced in the rearview mirror. Aria sat with her hands clasped tight in her l*p. She stared straight ahead, her gaze distant, as if she'd already transported herself somewhere far away. So she wasn't going to get out on her own. "Throw her out," I ordered the driver. He hesitated. "Alpha, we're deep in the forest. There's no—" "Now." Aria turned her head slowly. Her eyes met mine for half a second. Empty. That emptiness was more unsettling than fear would have been. "Get out," I said. She didn't move. I didn't look at her again. I fixed my gaze on the rain-soaked darkness beyond the windshield. "Claudia needs me," I added. "Remember your place." Her l**s parted slightly. "This is a mountain road," she said quietly. "There are no other cars. It's raining. Leaving me here alone... I could get hurt. Or worse." Her voice held no dramatics. No accusation. Just a simple statement of fact. A fact about her fragility, her need for protection. It almost made me reconsider. Almost. But Liam's face swam before me again. Cold. Accusing. A reminder I could never afford to forget. "Not my problem. A competent wolf should be able to take care of herself," I replied. I ordered the driver. "Open her door." The man met my eyes in the mirror. Shock flashed across his face, then hesitation. Then he got out into the rain. The rear door opened. Cold air flooded in. Rain spattered the leather seats. At first, Aria didn't move. She sat there, shoulders rigid, as the rain dampened her hair and soaked through her thin clothes. Then, slowly, she uncurled her fingers from where they gripped the armrest. One finger. Then another. She stepped out. She closed the door herself. The driver scrambled back into his seat. I didn't look back. "Drive," I snapped. "To the hospital. Fast." The car lurched forward, spraying water behind us. I told myself not to think of her standing alone in the rain. I told myself it didn't matter. I told myself she deserved worse. For a moment— My wolf, Rhein, went very, very quiet.

Aria's POV The moment the car door shut, the rain swallowed me whole. It wasn't gentle rain. It wasn't the kind you see in movies. It was cold, vicious, and instant. The temperature hit me like a slap, cutting straight to the bone, stealing my breath. My clothes were plastered to my skin in seconds, heavy and useless. The world narrowed to darkness, wetness, and the sound of my own heart beating too fast. The car's taillights burned two red holes in the downpour. Two little dots. They blinked. Then vanished around a bend. Just like that— I was alone. Not the quiet kind of alone. The kind where the darkness presses in from all sides. The kind where the forest itself feels like it's watching. I stood there as the rain ran down my face, my hair, my n**k, soaking me until there was no warmth left to lose. My husband had left me here. My fated mate. Ditched me like an inconvenient piece of baggage. Because another woman was waiting for him. She'd said, "Damon... I'm scared... I'm bleeding..." And he'd told her not to be afraid. He'd told her to wait. He'd told her he was coming. Each word was a brand, one after the other, searing my chest until my heart felt raw and exposed. And me? I wasn't worth a second of hesitation. No debate. No argument. I just needed to disappear. Immediately. Because Claudia was waiting. There was never a choice between me and the woman he loved. No—I wasn't even an option. I was the wrong answer, crossed out before the question was even finished. The rain seeped deeper, into places I didn't know I could still feel. My body began to shake, little uncontrollable tremors that made my teeth chatter. Every breath scraped my chest, short and shallow, and every step I tried to take made my lower abdomen clench in agony. My wolf curled into a tight ball in the back of my consciousness. She didn't growl. She didn't fight. She just... went still. That scared me more than anything. A flash of lightning split the sky, briefly illuminating the winding mountain road ahead—slick, narrow, disappearing into blackness. I couldn't stay here. I would die. Not heroically. Not meaningfully. Just coldly. Forgotten. Alone. With stiff fingers, I pulled out my phone. Opened Uber. No cars available in your area. I tried again. Same result. Of course. I stared at the screen for a long moment, then let my arm fall limply. That left only one option. Walk. The first step sent a fresh, twisting agony through my abdomen. I only made it a short distance before I had to crouch down, hand pressed hard against the pain, riding the wave until it receded enough to let me move again. I had no choice. Just like I'd had no choice two years ago. "Aria, you are his fated mate," my father had said, his eyes bloodshot, his voice ragged with desperation. "It's the only way. To save the family. To end the feud. Damon Hawthorne will be a powerful Alpha. He will protect you." Fated. Meant to be soul-deep resonance. The Moon Goddess's blessing. One life. One bond. I'd been foolish enough to think—maybe—something else could grow from it. If not love, then respect. At least peace. I learned how wrong I was, and quickly. My last hope had died on a hospital bed today. Tonight buried the rest. By the time I reached the estate gates, I was staggering. I floated through the entrance like a ghost. Up the stairs. Into the room marked 'Mrs. Hawthorne.' I peeled off the wet clothes, my fingers numb, moving slowly as if shedding a skin that had never truly fit. I looked at myself in the mirror— Pale as a ghost. Hollow-eyed. l**s tinged blue. Like a doll that had been played with, broken, and discarded. Like a corpse. My temples were throbbing, and my mind, in cruel, vivid detail, painted a scene: him bursting into a hospital room, face etched with panic, gathering her into his arms. Murmuring soft reassurances. Maybe pressing a desperate k**s to her forehead. He would stay all night, holding her hand until she slept. His scent would envelop her. His warmth would protect her. A sudden, strangling pain tore through my chest. It was worse than the pain after the procedure. Worse than any physical hurt. It ripped directly from the core of my soul, as if something essential was being forcibly, brutally torn out of me. The thing I'd stupidly called hope. Or maybe the bond itself. Inside me, my wolf finally spoke. Not with rage. Not with sorrow. But with a low, mournful howl that seemed to come from somewhere deep and primal—a sound of pure grief and acceptance. It echoed through every part of me, breaking through the lies I'd been telling myself. And in its wake, one thought remained, crystal clear: Enough. Truly, enough. This pathetic marriage—disguised as fate, built on debts and hatred—this prison that had drained every ounce of warmth from me until I was nothing but a hollow shell. It was time. Time to blow it all apart. I took a deep breath, and then— I reached into the deepest part of my bloodline, into the ancient Grayson legacy, and woke the oldest, most merciless power sleeping there. The power that could sever soul bonds. It needed no incantation. No ritual. Just absolute will to destroy—and the willingness to sacrifice part of myself. My consciousness tore through the night, ignoring distance and barriers, locking onto the one whose soul was still linked to mine through that fragile, fraying thread— Damon Hawthorne. With the last of my strength, with all my pain and pride, with hatred and relief twisted together, I forged my will into words—a vow and a curse—and branded them onto his soul: "I, Aria Grayson..." Then, word by word, I declared: "...reject you as my mate."

Damon's POV Claudia was leaning against me, crying softly. The doctor had just left, telling her she needed to rest. I was whispering reassurances when it hit me—a sudden, indescribable emptiness that punched straight through my soul. Not pain. Something worse. Like a part of me I was born with had been ripped out, leaving a gaping hole. That disgusting, hateful mate bond connecting me to Aria was breaking. She was rejecting me. "How dare she!" That woman who'd schemed for the "Mrs. Hawthorne" title, who'd climbed into my bed over Liam's blood, who'd used this bond as a weapon—now she wanted to cut it? My wolf, Rhein, roared with fury in my mind. No, this was a whimper of loss. Fear had taken hold of him. Ridiculous. I forced the storm of violence inside me down. Suddenly, the hurt disappeared. She withdrew her rejection. I should've known—just another trick. Aria? Give up being Mrs. Hawthorne? Please. But deep down, I had to admit—I was relieved. My phone buzzed. Mark, one of my guys. "Talk," I said, walking to the window with my back to Claudia. "Alpha, they called from the estate. Your wife has a high fever. She's in bad shape." A fever? Since when was she so weak? "I see," I answered coldly. "Send a doctor." "But the maid says she's been calling for you..." "Damon?" Claudia's weak voice came from the bed. She'd obviously heard. I hung up and walked back to her. She tried to sit up, but I gently pressed her back down. "Don't move." "Is it Aria?" She bit her l*p, her tear-filled eyes all innocence and kindness. "Damon, you should go to her. She's your mate, after all. She must need you right now. I'll be fine here with the doctors." Her words were soft, considerate. But to me, they just lit another fire. Need me? Give me a break. It's Aria being Aria. Her methods were getting more sophisticated. She shakes me by pretending to break the bond, then plays sick, even getting Claudia to plead her case. What does she want? Does she think I'll cave? Run back like an i***t and beg at her bedside? Pathetic. "You rest," I said, leaning down to k**s her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here with you." She gave me a relieved smile and settled back. I sat in the chair by her bed, holding her hand, but my eyes were drawn to the endless night outside. That hollow feeling of rejection didn't fade. Instead, it was like a cold needle, stubbornly jabbing at my heart. A weird sense of dread started to creep in. ***** Aria's POV I was dreaming. Not the cold operating table. Not Damon's disgust. Not Claudia's rounded belly. Just my father. The man who'd once stood tall and proud as Alpha of the Grayson family, who never bowed to anyone, was now on his knees before Walter Hawthorne. He lowered his head until his forehead nearly touched the marble floor. "Please, Alpha Walter. Please protect Aria." "The Moon Goddess sent a sign. She's Damon's fated mate. I'm begging you—accept this bond. It can end the feud between our families, and it can... it can save her life." I watched the gray at his temples, saw the proud line of his back bent into a humiliating bow. I wanted to run to him, to scream for him to stop. But no sound came out. I was frozen, forced to watch him trade his dignity so I could have the title "Mrs. Hawthorne." So I could be protected. So I could live. I jolted awake, sitting bolt upright, my pajamas soaked with cold sweat. The room was dead silent. The fever made my head spin, a deep ache settling into my bones. "Luna, you're awake!" Amy, the maid at my bedside, quickly handed me a glass of water. "How are you feeling? Your fever was dangerously high." I took the glass. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. "I called the Alpha several times..." Amy's voice held embarrassment and unspoken pity. "But... no one answered." I looked at the glaring row of "Missed Calls" on her phone screen. Thirteen. What a joke. The marriage my father sacrificed his dignity for, the protection he begged for—it meant nothing. I wasn't worth a single returned call from the man sworn to keep me safe. The hollow, carved-out pain in my chest began to throb again. I sat on the edge of the bed, numb. I don't know for how long. Outside, the sky shifted from ink-black to gray, then slowly lightened with dawn. I felt like a puppet with its strings cut, numb to everything. Until the roar of a car engine cut through the quiet downstairs, followed by the slam of a door. Heavy, furious footsteps pounded up the stairs, each one landing on my heartbeat. BANG! The bedroom door flew open. Damon stood in the doorway, soaked, rainwater dripping from his sharp jawline. His chest heaved. His eyes churned with a mix of rage and something else... something like pained shock that I'd never seen before. He stared at me. His wolf was right there, just beneath his skin. I could feel the fury radiating off him.