
The Alpha's Barren Luna: Erasing The Mate Bond
I was the Weaver, the only wolf capable of knitting the spiritual wards that protected our billion-dollar empire. But to my husband, the Alpha, I was just a piece of malfunctioning tech.
Ten years ago, I crushed my spine and destroyed my womb pulling him from a burning car. Now, because I couldn't give him an heir, he treated me like a ghost in his own home.
The breaking point wasn't the affair. It was seeing Brendan, the man who once told me "Alphas do not kneel," drop to one knee on a public sidewalk to tie his pregnant mistress's sneaker.
He touched her stomach with a reverence he had never shown me.
That night, his mistress sent me a video of them together, captioning it: He's painting the sky for our son. What did he paint for you? Nothing. Because you're barren.
I realized then that a divorce wouldn't free me. He would never release his most valuable asset. The Mate Bond was a chain, and as long as my wolf lived, I was his prisoner.
I didn't want his money. I didn't want an apology. I wanted total erasure.
So, I bought a forbidden potion called Tabula Rasa. It doesn't just wipe your memory; it dissolves the wolf spirit with acid and severs the soul-tie.
I rigged the estate's defense wards to self-destruct, melted my Luna ring into a lump of slag, and drank the poison.
When Brendan finally rushed home, terrified by the collapsing wards, he found me standing over the shattered vial.
He screamed my name, trying to use the Alpha Command to make me submit.
But I just looked at this weeping stranger with calm, human eyes and asked, "Who are you?"
Ellery POV:
I sat in my car across from the maternity clinic, knuckles white on the wheel.
I shouldn't be here. I should be gone. But I needed the final nail in the coffin.
The glass doors slid open.
Brendan walked out, looking powerful in his suit. Then Kiya, glowing with pregnancy hormones.
They waited for the valet.
Kiya pointed at her shoe.
I held my breath.
Brendan Wiggins, the Alpha who forced the Council to rewrite trade laws, dropped to one knee.
He tied her sneaker. Gently. Reverently.
Air left my lungs.
In ten years, he had never tied my shoe. Even when my spine was healing and I couldn't bend, he called a nurse. "Alphas do not kneel," he'd said.
But he knelt for her.
My phone buzzed on the seat. A message from Kiya.
He says the heartbeat sounds like thunder. Stronger than any pup in history. Too bad you'll never know what that sounds like, you empty shell.
I didn't cry. The salt was gone.
He hadn't just rejected me as a mate. He rejected my worth as a living being.
Brendan opened the car door for her, hand protecting her head.
That was it. The image I would take to the grave.
I drove.
I didn't look back.