Chapter 5

Borin's enraged roar still echoed through the storehouse.

Damien's face was a mask of cold fury.

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the onlookers with an Alpha command. "Get out! All of you!"

Then, his icy gaze fixed on me, sharp as a blade.

"Elara. My office. Now."

His voice was devoid of all warmth.

When I entered his office, Damien had his back to me. His fist slammed against the floor-to-ceiling window with a dull thud.

"You're proud of yourself, aren't you?" He spun around, the fury in his eyes threatening to consume me. "Turning some washed-up old veteran against me? Is that your new game?"

I met his gaze calmly. "I did nothing, Damien. I was simply taking inventory of the herbs."

"Nothing?" He sneered, stalking closer. "Your very existence is a provocation!"

Just then, the office door was thrown open.

Lyra burst in, sobbing, her eyes red as she rushed straight to Damien.

"Damien, please, don't be hard on the Luna because of me…" she choked out, clinging to his arm. "I don't want the position! I can't be the reason for a rift between you and her!"

Her performance was flawless. Every word was designed to sound like a plea on my behalf, yet each one drove another wedge between me and Damien.

"This has nothing to do with you." Damien's voice softened slightly as he patted her back.

Lyra made a show of wiping her tears, but her arm swung out, as if by accident.

Crash.

The sound was sharp and final.

My heart clenched.

The Moonglow Moss I had spent three months nurturing—a salve made with a hundred rare ingredients—was smashed on the floor. Green moss and shattered glass mixed on the ground. It was the only thing that could suppress the volatile rage of his curse.

Now, it was nothing more than a filthy smear on the floor.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Lyra cried out, but a flicker of triumph flashed in her eyes.

Damien didn't even glance at the shattered remains. All his attention was on Lyra.

"Stop crying," he soothed, his voice thick with concern.

I stared at the ruin of my work, and the last ripple of emotion in my heart went still.

Everything I had given was worthless in his eyes.

"You will attend Lyra's ascension ceremony." Damien's gaze finally returned to me, cold and absolute. "In front of the entire pack, you will hand the Healer's Grimoire to her yourself."

He wanted to humiliate me publicly. He wanted everyone to watch as I, Elara, the divinely gifted healer, handed my legacy over to a replacement.

I said nothing.

My silence seemed to infuriate him. He thought I was trying to bargain.

"Just agree," he pressed, dangling what he thought was an irresistible lure, "and the Redstone Hunting Grounds to the west of the territory will be yours. Personally. It holds the richest prey, a prize every warrior covets."

I finally laughed.

Using pack assets to bribe the pack's own Luna.

How generous.

"Fine." I looked at him, my voice clear and cold, each word deliberate. "I accept."

Damien froze, clearly not expecting me to yield so easily.

I pulled the folded document from my pocket and unfolded it on the desk before him. "But I have one condition."

My gaze met his, devoid of all emotion.

"Right now. On this document. You will place your mark. With your blood."

My tone pushed him over the edge. He snatched the document from the desk.

"As you wish!"

Without even glancing at the words, Damien bit his fingertip and slammed his bloody mark onto the signature line.

Just for an instant, his brow furrowed.

He let out a guttural grunt, his body swaying as the color drained from his face.

The same searing pain threatened to black out my vision, but I forced it down. I didn't even let my fingertips tremble.

It was the backlash from severing the mate bond.

Blaming me for the sudden backlash of pain, Damien furiously threw the document at me. "Now," he snarled, "you can get out."

I bent down and picked up the Mate Rejection Agreement. His fresh blood stained the signature line.

The paper was light, but it held the weight of my freedom across two lifetimes.

I smoothed out the creases, folded it carefully, and tucked it away.

Then, without a backward glance, I walked out of his office.