Beneath the Waning Moon

I woke to white walls and moonlight.

For a heartbeat, I thought I had crossed into shadow lands. Then I saw him.

Leon sat beside the cot, head bowed, fingers running through his hair. He looked exhausted, shadows beneath his eyes as if he had maintained vigil.

"You're awake," he said quietly, voice stripped of Alpha command. "You've been lost two days."

I stared, saying nothing. The mark on my throat pulsed cold.

He sighed, looking toward the window. "I didn't intend for it to go so far. I lost control. Lysandra 's heir was threatened. I never meant for you to suffer the death-sleep."

The words meant nothing. Too late. Too small.

He reached for a leather bundle. "There is a gown. I've arranged a private feast at your favored overlook—where we first ran, where I placed the mark."

I stared at the bundle. The weight of his expectation pressed against my skin.

He forced a smile. "Try to look like my beautiful Addy again."

He leaned in. His scent—pine, musk, and Lysandra 's perfume—engulfed me as he brushed lips against my forehead. Then he was gone.

The door closed. I sat up slowly, body screaming, every nerve raw.

I reached for my crystal.

A message from my father: "The exodus moon rises at ninth hour. Warriors have breached the eastern ridge. Be ready. Leave the broken bond behind."

Two hours after Leon's feast.

A hollow laugh escaped, tasting of blood and ash.

The healer entered, avoiding my gaze. "You are discharged today. Alpha Ashford offered gold to the temple."

"Of course he has," I whispered.

He handed me release scrolls and departed.

Two attendants entered with a cedar box and silver-lilies—moon-blooms that had once been our private language.

I scoffed under my breath. A week ago, this might have thawed something. Today, I wanted to hurl the poisonous flowers into the fire.

I dressed in silence. The deep crimson gown—color of blood—fit perfectly, tailored to my measurements as if he still remembered my body while forgetting my soul.

When the escort arrived, I followed. The carriage glided through forest paths as the sky bled gold and violet, the same colors from our mating night.

At the clearing, the high waiter led me to a private table upon a platform of ancient oak—the place where I had believed the bond meant forever.

I saw Leon smiling—that rare smile that had once been my sunrise—and beside him, leaning into his shoulder with possessive ease, sat Lysandra .

The female he had chosen. No bond, no mark, yet she had taken everything.

Lysandra looked radiant in pale ivory silk, hands resting possessively on her swollen belly—the heir purchased with my wolf's death. Leon appeared uneasy when his eyes met mine, but the smile remained fixed.

"Addy," he began, standing with fluid grace. "I apologize for the surprise. Lysandra couldn't bear to be alone. She's been anxious about the heir. I couldn't abandon her to her fears."

"Of course," I said flatly, taking my seat opposite the flame-pit. "You could never leave her to face the dark alone."

Leon cleared his throat. "Let us not quarrel tonight."

He reached into a box and withdrew two pendants.

He extended one toward me. A moonstone carving on leather cord. My breath caught—nearly identical to the one Lysandra had shattered, holding my pup's first image. Inside this stone, encased in crystal, floated the preserved memory of my lost pup's ultrasound, glowing faintly.

"I had this crafted for you," he said softly. "To help you remember him. To remember what we created."

For a fragile second, my heart trembled.

Then he withdrew the second pendant—identical, but Lysandra 's stone was larger, clearer, lined with diamond-dust that caught firelight and scattered it into cruel, glittering shards.

He stepped behind her and fastened it around her throat, fingers brushing her skin with a tenderness that shattered me.

Lysandra smiled, tilting the stone. "It's exquisite, Leon. You possess such refined instincts."

"I don't require reminders of what your actions stole from me," I said quietly, setting the moonstone back on the table with a soft, final click.

"Seraphine—"

"I said I do not want it."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He asked about my recovery, the packhouse. I answered in frozen syllables.

Lysandra filled the silence with tales of their shared past. How Leon used to sneak game to her threshold before I arrived. How they ran together as children before he knew the bond's meaning. How he had promised her the Alpha's side before I "intervened."

Each word calculated to draw blood.

Leon listened, smiling faintly, gaze occasionally flickering to me with a pleading expression—as if he wished me to join in the nostalgia, to accept my erasure with grace.

I did not.

Then the scent hit me—acrid, wrong, metallic. Silver and betrayal.

Air pressure shifted. Warning screamed through my nerves too late.

The explosion came without fire, only silver-lightning—enchanted silver powder and wolfsbane gas detonating, shattering the oak platform, sending consecrated wood flying like shrapnel.

BOOM.

The force threw me backward, slamming me into the stone wall. I struck rock, pain surging through my spine as debris rained down. My legs pinned beneath a fallen beam.

"Seraphine!" Leon shouted through chaos.

"Leon," I gasped, coughing through toxic smoke. "Help me! I can't shift—I'm trapped!"

Through the haze, I saw them.

Lysandra clutched his arm, face composed despite theatrical sobbing. "I can't stand! Please, Leon, the heir—I feel the poison! I cannot move!"

She wasn't injured. Not a scratch. She sat upright, pretending to tremble, eyes dry and calculating, voice breaking with practiced distress.

I watched him stand motionless in the devastation, silhouetted against flames. His golden eyes flicked to me—pinned, bleeding, suffocating—and then to her, whole and unharmed.

Hesitation flickered. His muscles tensed, wolf scenting truth—that I was dying, that she was lying.

Then cold resolve hardened his gaze. The choice he always made.

"Hold on, Seraphine!" he yelled, already turning away. "I will return for you!"

He scooped Lysandra into his arms as if she weighed nothing, cradling her against his chest, and ran. Leaving me. Leaving everything the bond was supposed to mean.

I stared, disbelief and final heartbreak tearing through me like claws, watching him disappear into smoke, leaving me to burn beneath silver-tainted flames.

Lysandra turned her head in his arms, eyes meeting mine through the haze. She smiled—slow, triumphant, terrible—before flames swallowed her face and his retreating back.

The heat grew unbearable. Silver-poison seared my lungs. My wolf whimpered in the dark cage of my mind, unable to surface. The beam pinned my legs, crushing bone. I couldn't draw breath.

So this is how it ends, I thought weakly. After everything. He chose her. Even at death's threshold. The bond meant nothing. I meant nothing.

Consciousness faded.

Then movement—four powerful shapes pushing through toxic smoke, wolves manifesting as shadows.

"Alpha's daughter! Hold fast! Your father's pack has come! The Northern wolves have breached the silver!"

Strong arms lifted me from wreckage, carrying me away from the burning territory of the male who discarded me like ash, away from the broken bond that had been my cage, toward freedom.

"Please hang on—the bond of blood calls you home—"

I gritted my teeth and wrote my name in blood across the Bond Severance Scroll.

Pain tore through me. Then black.