They Only Felt the Bond After I Died

I ended the call and slipped my phone back into my jacket pocket, irritation still coursing through me. Harper's dramatics were getting worse by the day. *I'm dying.* The words echoed in my mind with their theatrical desperation. Three years of being her fated mate, and she still hadn't learned that manipulation wouldn't work on me.

The grand ballroom buzzed with celebration around me, crystal chandeliers casting warm light over the elegant crowd. Pack leaders from three territories had come to witness Ivy's Luna announcement, and the air thrummed with political possibility. This was where I belonged—among the powerful, the influential, the ones who shaped our world.

Not in some basement listening to Harper's latest cry for attention.

"Ryker?" Ivy's voice was soft as silk, drawing me back to the present. She stood beside the champagne fountain, her silver gown catching the light like moonbeams on water. Even surrounded by the pack's most beautiful she-wolves, she outshone them all.

I moved to her side, automatically adjusting the delicate beaded shawl that had slipped from her shoulder. The gesture was natural now, practiced from months of public appearances together.

"Ryker哥哥," she said quietly, using the pet name that always made something warm unfurl in my chest. Her dark eyes searched my face with genuine concern. "Harper是不是又打电话来闹了？"

I couldn't help the frown that creased my brow. "She said she was dying. Same old tricks." The words came out harsher than I intended, but the frustration was real. "I honestly don't know when she'll finally grow up."

Ivy's eyes immediately filled with tears—not the crocodile tears Harper was famous for, but real emotion that made her look fragile and heartbreaking. "Don't blame姐姐," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "She's just so lonely. All she's ever wanted in this life is to be loved."

Her hand found my arm, fingers resting lightly on my sleeve. The touch was natural, comfortable—everything my bond with Harper had never been. Where Harper's presence felt like chaos and demands, Ivy was peace. Understanding. Everything an Alpha needed in a Luna.

"You're too good to her," I murmured, covering her hand with mine. "Always defending her, even when she doesn't deserve it."

"She's still my sister." Ivy's smile was sad but beautiful. "I just wish she could be happy for me, you know? This is supposed to be the best night of my life, and she's..."

"Hey." I turned to face her fully, my hands settling on her shoulders. "Don't let her ruin this for you. Tonight is about your future. Our future."

The words felt right in a way that talking about Harper never did. Ivy and I made sense—politically, socially, emotionally. We moved in the same circles, understood the same pressures, wanted the same things. A strong pack, a stable future, a partnership built on mutual respect and shared goals.

Not the messy, complicated tangle of obligation and resentment that defined my relationship with Harper.

I thought about all the times Harper had called me over the years, always needing something. Help with pack politics she didn't understand. Comfort after another fight with her family. Support for dreams that would never align with pack needs. And every time, I'd promised to be there later, to make it up to her, to give her the attention she craved.

But there was always something more important. A treaty to negotiate. A border dispute to resolve. Ivy's schedule to accommodate.

Harper never seemed to understand that being Alpha meant making hard choices. It meant prioritizing the pack's needs over personal desires. It meant choosing the mate who would strengthen us, not the one who would constantly demand emotional labor I didn't have time to give.

"You're thinking about her again," Ivy observed, her thumb brushing across my knuckles where our hands were still joined. "I can see it in your eyes."

"I'm thinking about you," I corrected, and it was true. "About how perfect you look tonight. About how proud I am to stand beside you."

Her smile was radiant, transforming her face from merely beautiful to absolutely luminous. "Dance with me?"

I led her onto the dance floor as the quartet began a slow waltz. She moved like liquid starlight in my arms, every step perfectly synchronized with mine. Around us, the crowd watched approvingly—the future Alpha and his chosen Luna, everything a pack could want in their leaders.

This was what mattered. Not Harper's tantrums or her desperate attempts to reclaim a bond we'd both known was wrong from the start. The Moon Goddess might have marked us as mates, but fate could be overruled by wisdom. By choice.

By love.

Because as I spun Ivy across the polished floor, her laughter bright as silver bells, I realized that's what this was. Not the desperate, clawing need Harper called love, but something deeper. Steadier. Built on foundation instead of chaos.

"I love you," I whispered against her ear as the music swelled around us.

Her breath caught, and when she pulled back to look at me, her eyes were shining with unshed tears of joy. "I love you too."

The words sealed something between us that had been building for months. This wasn't about pack politics or arranged marriages anymore. This was about choosing each other, again and again, despite what fate had originally decreed.

The song ended, and we remained in each other's arms for a moment longer than necessary. The applause around us felt distant, unimportant compared to the perfect bubble of contentment we'd created.

Then Ivy's phone buzzed against her purse.

She glanced at it briefly, her expression shifting to something I couldn't quite read. "Excuse me for just a second?"

I nodded, watching as she stepped toward the edge of the dance floor. Her fingers moved quickly across the screen, and I caught a glimpse of an image before she deleted whatever message she'd received. Her face remained perfectly composed, that same serene smile never wavering.

"Everything okay?" I asked when she returned to my side.

"Of course." She slipped her phone back into her purse and raised her champagne glass toward the crowd. "Just some spam. Now, shall we make that toast?"

I lifted my own glass, pushing aside the nagging feeling that something had just shifted in the air around us. Tonight was about celebration, about the future we were building together.

Not about whatever game Harper was playing now.