After My Mate Protected Her Over Me, I Broke the Bond

A week passed in a haze of calculated indifference. I moved through the Moonveil Pack house like a ghost, present but unseen. The rejection documents Lena had prepared sat in my desk drawer, unsigned, waiting for the moment when my resolve would crystallize into action. That moment arrived sooner than I expected, in the form of an ornate invitation delivered by a pack messenger with averted eyes.

The grand opening of "Moonlight Blooms," Marilyn Crawford's luxury flower shop, was scheduled for today. My presence was "requested"—a command disguised as courtesy. I stood before my mirror, fastening the silver pendant that had been my mother's, a small act of defiance against the hollow Luna title I still wore.

"You don't have to go," Lena whispered from the doorway, her loyalty to me evident in her worried eyes.

"I do," I replied, smoothing my black dress. "For appearance's sake. For the pack." The words tasted bitter on my tongue.

The flower shop occupied a prime location in Manhattan's elite shopping district—a space I knew had been secured through Coleson's influence, using connections I had built. The irony wasn't lost on me as I entered the crowded venue, immediately feeling dozens of eyes tracking my movement. I took my position on the periphery, where Lunas who were no longer wanted were meant to stand.

Coleson arrived late, as he always did now, making an entrance with Marilyn on his arm. She wore a flowing white dress that made her look ethereal, fragile—everything I apparently was not. He guided her through the crowd with possessive pride, his hand at the small of her back, completely oblivious to my presence across the room.

"Thank you all for coming," Marilyn's voice rang out, sweet and practiced. "This shop represents everything I've dreamed of, made possible by the most generous, protective Alpha a girl could ask for."

She raised her glass toward Coleson, who beamed at her with naked adoration. Not once did his eyes seek mine. Not once did he acknowledge that his Luna stood among the guests, watching her mate shower another woman with the devotion that should have been hers.

The crowd applauded, and I clapped mechanically, my palms stinging with each hollow sound. Then, from the back of the shop, a commotion erupted.

"Alpha Morgan! Is it true you're planning to elevate this Omega above your Luna?"

The question came from a reporter I didn't recognize, pushing forward with a microphone and camera. More appeared behind him, shouting similar questions, their cameras flashing aggressively.

"Sources say you've been seen night after night at this Omega's apartment!"

The crowd's murmurs turned to gasps. Coleson's face darkened with anger, but his eyes immediately sought Marilyn, who had already begun to tremble on cue.

Chaos erupted. In the pushing and shoving, I was jostled backward toward a glass display case. Someone shoved me hard from behind, and I crashed into it with sickening force. The glass shattered around me, and I felt a searing pain as a shard sliced deep into my arm.

Blood—warm and metallic—poured down my skin, soaking the sleeve of my dress. The scent filled the air, impossible for any wolf to miss, especially an Alpha. Especially a mate.

I looked up, expecting Coleson to come to me, to show some flicker of the bond we once shared.

He didn't. Instead, he rushed to Marilyn, who stood perfectly unharmed, and shielded her from the cameras with his body. "Get back!" he roared, his Alpha tone making the reporters flinch. "You're upsetting her! Can't you see she's distressed?"

Not a glance toward me. Not a single moment of concern for the blood flowing from my wound.

In that moment of perfect clarity, I reached into my purse with my uninjured hand and pulled out the rejection document Lena had prepared. The first stage of the ritual required my signature—and what more fitting ink than my own blood?

With trembling fingers, I pressed my bleeding arm against the paper, watching as my blood soaked into the official seal. The document would be binding now. There would be no turning back.

Across the room, Coleson still cradled Marilyn protectively, whispering reassurances as she buried her face against his chest. Neither of them had noticed what I had just done.

Neither of them knew that with my blood, I had just begun to sever the bond that had once meant everything to me.