CHAPTER 3

ASHINA’S POV

I could no longer hold it in. My patience, my pride, my restraint—all shattered. I stepped forward, my breath unsteady but my voice sharp with determination.

“My father and my brother were warriors,” I said, my words cutting through the tension like a blade. “They sacrificed their lives for this tribe. And yet, you stand here and mock their memory? Just because I don’t have my wolf anymore doesn’t mean you can treat me like dirt beneath your boots.”

Lady Lysara scoffed, folding her arms across her chest—her usual thing, her gaze dripping with disdain.

“What exactly do you plan to do about it, girl?” she sneered. “Run crying to King Dragor?”

I lifted my chin. If she wanted to stir things around here, then surely I would give it to her.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’ll do. I’ll go to King Dragor himself and expose your family’s shameful actions.”

The laughter that erupted from Farkas’ parents was cruel and taunting, echoing in the lavish hall.

“You think King Dragor has time for people like you?” Lord Gregor smirked, shaking his head. “A discarded woman with no wolf, no power, no influence? Don’t make us laugh, girl.”

Even Farkas sighed, rubbing his temples as if he were dealing with an impertinent child.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he said. “Even if your father was once King Dragor’s prime minister and your brother was Chief Beta, that means nothing now. They’re both dead. Killed by rogues. But what about you? You’re just as weak as they were in the end.”

The words were a slap across my face. My nails dug into my palms as rage wriggled tightly in my chest.

“How dare you?” I seethed. “You have no right to speak of them that way. They fought for this tribe while you hid behind your wealth and status. You wouldn’t last a day in battle, Farkas.”

He huffed, shaking his head as if I were exhausting him.

Then, in a tone so casual it made my blood boil, he said, “Look, there’s no need for all this hostility. Even if we divorce, you don’t have to leave. You can stay here as my mistress. I’ll continue to support you. Nothing really has to change.”

Did he say support me? That statement made me want to laugh my ass off.

The sheer arrogance of his words stunned me into silence for a moment. Then, laughter bubbled up from my throat—cold, hollow, and filled with nothing but scorn.

“A mistress?” I repeated, shaking my head. “You expect me to sit in the shadows while you flaunt another woman in front of me? To cling to whatever scraps of affection you throw my way? I would rather die than live as your afterthought, Farkas!”

His jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face. “Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” I laughed again, but this time, there was no humour in it. “I’m done being reasonable.”

I turned on my heel and stormed out of that house. I refused to waste my energy on him or his miserable family. My path was clear—I would go to King Dragor.

***

The palace was grand, its sky-scraping stone walls a reminder of the strength of the werewolf kingdom. I stood before King Dragor Nightbane, my heart pounding, but obstinate. I came here to seek justice and that was what was going to do.

He regarded me with sharp golden eyes, his presence powerful.

“You wish for your marriage to Farkas Veldon to be dissolved?” His voice was deep, carrying the weight of authority.

I met his gaze, refusing to give up. “Yes, Your Majesty. On the grounds of his infidelity. He betrayed our vows. If he and Esther believe fate justifies their actions, then let them bear the shame of it publicly.”

King Dragor was silent for a long moment. He studied me, his expression impenetrable, before he sighed, the weight of his years evident in the heavy breath.

“Your father and brother were great men,” he said, his voice softer now. “It pains me to see their bloodline disrespected like this.” He exhaled deeply. “In truth, I regret not arranging your marriage to Boris instead.”

The mention of Boris sent heat creeping up my neck. My mind betrayed me, flashing to the wet dream—the one where I felt his touch, his presence, his dominance. I quickly looked away, swallowing hard.

“Your Majesty, I…” I cleared my throat. “I only ask for justice.”

King Dragor nodded. “And justice you shall have.”

Relief flooded through me.

“I will dissolve your marriage,” he declared. “Farkas and Esther will not escape unscathed. Their reputations will bear the consequences of their actions.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

***

As I left the palace, a strange sense of liberation settled over me. Although the wounds Farkas had left were still raw, I no longer carried the weight of his disloyalty.

My steps slowed as I reached the palace courtyard. There, distinguished above me, was a statue…

Boris Nightbane.

The people had erected it in his honour, a tribute to the warrior they loved. Even in stone, his presence was commanding. The sculptor had captured the sharp angles of his face, the strength in his broad shoulders, the intensity of his gray eyes and the glimpse of his striking personality.

Boris Nightbane. Son of King Dragor. The warrior who had been the pride of our Ironclaw Pack.

A man so different from Farkas, it was almost funny that they had ever been mentioned in the same manner. Boris had never relied on fate to determine his worth. He had carved his own path, earning the respect and loyalty of his people through strength, honour, and pure will.

Boris Nightbane, the Alpha of Ironclaw Pack was the kind of man who could silence a room with nothing but his aura. He was power incarnate—tall, brawny, and built like a warrior sculpted by the gods themselves.

His body was carved from years of battle, muscles taut beneath sun-kissed skin, each movement radiating strength and control.

Nonetheless it was his eyes that held the true danger—stormy grey, like the sky before a raging tempest. They weren’t just beautiful; they were piercing, intelligent, and obscure.

When those eyes landed on you, it felt like he could see straight into your soul, stripping away all pretenses, leaving you bare and vulnerable.

I reached out, my fingers brushing against the cool stone of his statue.

“What would you say if you were here now?” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Would he scoff at me for ever believing in Farkas? Would he smirk, shake his head, and tell me I had been blind to the truth that had been right in front of me all along?

Or would he sigh, disappointment flickering in those intense, grey eyes, and tell me that I had been a fool to give my heart to a man unworthy of it? Perhaps he would say nothing at all, simply watching me with that unreadable expression, waiting to see if I had the strength to rise from the ashes of my own heartbreak.

A part of me longed to know what he would think. Another part of me knew it didn’t matter.

Because no matter what, I was done being the woman who was tossed aside like an afterthought.

I was done playing the role of the abandoned, of the forgotten.

My story wasn’t ending here—not as a scorned lover, not as a woman left to mourn what could have been.

No, this was just the beginning.

Surely, I would make go to extents to make them all know about it.