365th Escape from You

Every eye in the room landed on me.

Even the nightclub girl—barely inside the doorway—giggled behind her hand, following the lead of everyone else.

"Place your bets! I say she'll regret it before she even gets to the door."

"A thousand moonstones say she doesn't go through with it!"

"I'll call three hundred on her staying."

Wagers on my bond-severance had become a tired tradition at every bonding anniversary. Some hated me when they lost their bets. The ones who won? They didn't like me much either.

I let out a soft laugh and shook my head. Inwardly, I cursed myself—stupid and stubborn —for not leaving Shawn long ago and for staying until today.

Then, from somewhere within the crowd, a voice rose—low, magnetic, and quiet as dusk.

"I'll bet on bond-severance."

It wasn't loud.

The rest turned toward the sound, murmuring disapproval, some urging him not to waste his treasure.

I scanned the room, trying to find the speaker, but whoever it was had already vanished into the sea of faces.

"Shawn," I said, voice calm, "I'll send the bond-severance agreement to your Alpha Bureau. Make sure you sign it as soon."

I'd said "bond-severance" 365 times before. But it was the first time I mentioned an actual agreement.

Shawn straightened, startled, the cigar between his fingers dropping soundlessly to the floor.

I ignored it.

Instead, I crouched down, unstrapped my boots, and placed them carefully at the feet of the human girl.

Her name was Shelly, in her early twenties, young and pretty.

"This pair of boots bite a little," I said quietly. "But you'll get used to them."

"The dress and jewelry Shawn mentioned—Gwen, the servant will bring them to you shortly."

"There were seven others before you. Just ask them if you're confused about anything. They all live on the third floor. Your room is the last one to the left."

Seven years bonded to Shawn.

Seven girls before Shelly.

Enough to form an Alpha harem in this den.

The den was filled with human girls—tall, short, curvy, slim, shy, wild. Every kind you could imagine.

But I won't be one of them anymore.

I can't, for good.

I smoothed the invisible creases from the hem of my dress, stood up, and turned toward the door—barefoot, unbowed, and expressionless.

But a force yanked me back hard before I could reach it.

"Clara," Shawn growled, "if you're going to leave, at least leave whatever I bought for you. Is there a single thing on you that's not a gift from me?"

I froze, the soles of my feet suddenly raw against the cold stairs.

Even my breathing trembled.

Inside me, my wolf whimpered—hurt, humiliated, and desperate. She couldn’t bring herself to accept the truth.

"You want me to undress?" I asked, voice hollow.

Shawn raised an eyebrow, his gaze cutting straight through me.

"Back when your pack fell under the rogue attack," he said, his voice dripping with cruelty, "wasn't it your mother who stripped you naked and stuffed you into my bed?"

"How you came here—as you know how—that's how you'll leave."

"Or," he added with a sneer, "have you changed your mind again? If so, I'll forgive you. Just kneel and wash Shelly's feet."

The room erupted into laughter—mocking, roaring, cruel.

Back when everything in my world fell apart, Shawn and I had only just started dating each other.

Rogues attacked.

My father was wounded by a silver dagger—unconscious since then, his organs and limbs ruined beyond repair.

My mother, desperate to make Shawn take our side, had poured us both glasses of Charmroot wine.

A dangerous herb. It mimicked the mate bond, forcing wolves to feel something that wasn't truly there.

Shawn marked me that night under its influence.

And my mother made sure every pack knew.

That night sealed my fate.

And ended whatever love Shawn and I might have had.

We'd been pulled to each other once naturally—young, innocent, hopeful. But after the wine, it was all gone.

He resented me for the trickery so from then on he brought home the 1st human girl on the night of our bonding ceremony.

Right in front of me, he touched her, kissed her, and took her to our bed, humiliating me.

I was forced to listen, to help when asked, and then to clean up the aftermath like a maid.

For seven years, I endured this. Seven years of kneeling.

No more.

If undressing the things he bought me could strip away the last remnants of my humiliation—then I would do it.

"I'll take off everything you send me," I said, voice steady, hand already reaching for the buttons.