Chapter 3

His words stopped me in my tracks.

When we had first become mates, Damien had made me a promise under the moonlight. He'd said his mind-link was open only to me, that I was the only one who could truly understand his pain.

Whenever I missed him, I could feel his heartbeat through our bond.

I never thought that after only five years, he would so casually toss that promise aside for someone else, shutting me out like a complete stranger.

The thought still brought a pang of sadness. I swallowed the retort that rose to my lips; there was no point in saying anything now.

I took a step back. "I'm sorry," I said faintly. "It won't happen again."

After all, if things went as planned, this would be the last time in my life I ever set foot in the Alpha's command center.

The cold metal door clicked shut behind me. Every step I took away from Damien's office felt like walking on the ashes of my past.

My fingers unconsciously drifted to my collarbone. I had once reserved this spot for him.

During the year our love was at its peak, I had wanted to get a tattoo there—a wolf's fang to represent his strength.

But he had smiled and refused. He'd held me tight, his chin resting on my head, his voice so gentle it could melt stone.

"No, Elara," he'd said. "Let me be the one to bear the pain. I will give you my heart, whole and complete. I will have a sun, your symbol, tattooed over my chest. I want every god and demon to know that I, Damien, belong only to Elara."

Every word he spoke then was seared into my soul. Now, the memory was nothing but a bitter irony.

What I didn't expect came a few days later. As I was passing the training grounds, I saw Damien, shirtless, his bronze skin gleaming with a light sheen of sweat as he joked with Lyra and the other warriors.

The sunlight caught the powerful lines of his body.

He laughed and turned to grab a waterskin.

And in that instant, my heart stopped.

The spot on his chest that should have been mine—the one that bore the sun tattoo symbolizing my healing power… was gone. No, not gone. It had been desecrated.

The symbolism was a blade to my heart. My sun, the symbol of my healing light, had been desecrated—pierced by the image of a dagger I recognized as Lyra's favorite weapon, with glistening drops of blood etched onto its blade.

The moonvines that had once entwined the sun, symbolizing life and connection, had been transformed into black, withered thorns.

He wasn't just replacing me; he was erasing me. It was his cruelest declaration yet, a public announcement of who he had chosen, and who he had cast aside.

Lyra seemed to notice me watching. As if to flaunt her victory, she reached out and traced the new, brutal tattoo on Damien's chest with a slender finger.

She shot me a provocative look, the corner of her mouth curling into a triumphant smirk.

The pack members around them fell silent. The thunderous roars of the training ground died away. Everyone knew what the old tattoo had meant, and everyone understood what it meant now.

I stood frozen, a chill seeping deep into my bones.

I suddenly remembered a time in my last life when I had jokingly suggested adding a little cloud next to his sun tattoo to make it cuter. Damien's face had darkened immediately.

"This symbol is sacred to an Alpha," he had told me sternly. "It cannot be altered in any way, not even slightly."

It turned out the symbol wasn't too sacred to be changed.

It was just that I, Elara, didn't even have the right to add a single stroke.

But Lyra could take a dagger and carve my existence from his heart, claiming the space for herself.