#Chapter 3: The Severing

(Logan’s POV)

The pain from the bond breaking is excruciating—it’s even worse than when the first mate's bond with Emma was severed. But I hold it in.

Standing in the study, I grip the edge of the desk so tightly my knuckles turn white.

My breath is uneven, the hollow ache in my chest so deep it feels like it’s pulling me into a void. No matter how much I try to ignore it, the absence of the mate bond claws at me, relentless and unyielding.

The room is dim, and the late afternoon sunlight filters weakly through the heavy velvet curtains. It casts long, slanted shadows across the rich mahogany furniture and the shelves lined with old books—an oppressive stillness that only amplifies my turmoil.

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, but it doesn’t help. The bond is gone, and the absence of Evelyn’s presence—her warmth, her scent, her energy—feels like a wound ripped open in my chest.

My wolf is furious, pacing restlessly in the back of my mind.

“You actually let the mate bond break?” he growls, his voice low and rough with anger. “Are you insane, Logan? Evelyn is ours! How could you do this?”

I grit my teeth, my jaw tightening as I try to block him out. “Enough,” I snap under my breath, my voice sharp and cold.

But he doesn’t stop. He never does. “Emma doesn’t compare to her. You know it. Evelyn is the one the Moon Goddess gave us. And you just let her go like she’s nothing!”

“Stop,” I snarl, slamming my fist against the surface of the desk. The sharp sound echoes through the empty room, but it does nothing to silence the wolf—or the thoughts swirling in my mind.

I force myself to look down at the reports spread across the desk.

Rogue activity at the border is increasing, and several scouts have gone missing in the past week. I’ve been working non-stop to organize our defenses, to keep the pack secure. I can’t afford to let personal matters cloud my judgment.

I try to focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Evelyn.

I can still see her standing in Emma’s room, her hands trembling as she spoke.

The look on her face when she said her wolf was dying. The way her voice cracked, the sheer vulnerability in her eyes.

She was telling the truth. I knew it then, and I know it now.

And yet, I let her go.

I push the thought aside, shaking my head. I can’t think about that. I made my choice, and I have to live with it.

Three years ago, Emma saved my life. During a rogue attack at the border, she drank the poisoned wine meant for me. Wolfbane fever nearly killed her, and her health hasn’t been the same since.

It was my fault.

Even before the attack, Emma suffered because of me. My father insisted she wasn’t fit to be Luna because of her frail health. He forced me to reject her, and I obeyed. I told myself it was for the good of the pack, but the truth is, I was a coward.

I didn’t fight for her.

The rejection nearly destroyed her.

And yet, even after everything, she risked her life to save me.

How could I not repay that debt?

When I found Evelyn, it seemed like a miracle. She was a rogue with an extraordinary gift—healing powers unlike anything I’d ever seen. I needed her to save Emma, and she needed the safety of my pack. Our marriage was a practical arrangement, nothing more.

The conditions were clear: Evelyn would provide regular treatments for Emma in exchange for the pack's protection and resources.

But now, Evelyn is breaking the agreement.

I glance at the empty chair across from me, the one she sat in during our first meeting. I can still remember the way she looked that day. Her dark eyes were wary but determined, her shoulders squared, her chin raised as if daring me to question her abilities.

She was strong, confident, and unapologetically herself.

I thought she understood the arrangement. I thought she knew what she was signing up for.

Maybe I was wrong.

My wolf growls again, his voice low and insistent.

“You didn’t just lose the mate bond—you lost her. And for what? A debt you think you owe? Emma doesn’t need you to sacrifice your happiness for hers.”

“Enough!” I snap, my voice echoing harshly in the quiet study.

I don’t want to hear it. I can’t.

This isn’t about the mate bond. It’s about duty, honor, and responsibility. A life debt is far more important than a bond, no matter how strong it might have been.

If it weren’t for Emma, I would be the one lying in bed, poisoned and dying. Evelyn knew that. She knew what she agreed to when she married me.

But even as I try to justify my actions, a part of me wonders if I’ve made a mistake.

I glance at the clock on the wall. Its steady ticking is the only sound in the room. Time feels heavier than usual, each second dragging on like an eternity.

Does Evelyn hate me now?

The thought lingers, unspoken but undeniable. She was never meant to love me—not in the way a true mate does.

This marriage was never about love.

I shake my head, forcing myself to stand. My wolf lets out a low, mournful growl, but I ignore him. There’s no point in dwelling on what’s already done.

Besides, she lived well in the packhouse, enjoying luxury and comfort.

What more did she want?

A little money as compensation was enough.

Was it not enough?

If she complains it wasn’t enough, I will write her a bigger check.

I turn to leave the suffocating confines of my office and head to the work that needs to be done.

( Evelyn's POV)

I have Logan’s Beta prepare the divorce papers. When he brings them to me, I sign them on the spot. “You will bring these directly to Logan.”

He says nothing, and I can tell he’s not surprised. No one in this pack would be surprised.

The room feels colder now.

After Logan walked out of Emma’s room without a second glance at me, I stood there for what felt like hours, staring at the door he closed behind him.

My chest aches; I refuse to cry in front of Emma. She doesn’t need to see how much this hurts me.

I leave the room as quietly as I can, my legs trembling with every step.

The hallway stretches endlessly ahead of me, the packhouse eerily quiet except for the sound of my footsteps echoing off the walls. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I need to get away—to be alone.

I find myself in the garden, the place where I used to go when I first arrived here.

Back then, I thought this could be my home. I would sit on the stone bench near the rose bushes, imagining a future where Logan and I would grow to love each other. But now, as I sink onto that same bench, the reality is impossible to ignore.

The roses are in full bloom, their vibrant red petals a stark contrast to the gray sky above.

 I reach out and touch one of the blossoms, its soft texture a cruel reminder of the life I thought I could have. My hand trembles as I pull it back, the tears I’ve been holding in finally spilling over.

I press my palms against my face, trying to muffle the sound of my sobs. I feel so foolish. How could I have believed that Logan would ever choose me?

The words he said earlier echo in my mind: “That’s your problem. You agreed to this.”

I thought I was strong enough to handle this marriage, to endure the coldness and distance for the sake of duty. But now I see the truth: Logan will never see me as anything more than a tool, a means to an end.

When I finally stop crying, my decision is clear.

The silence in the room is deafening, and for a moment, I sit there, staring at the door.

Then, as the reality of what I’ve done sinks in, I feel a wave of emotions crashing over me—relief, pain, anger, and, most of all, sadness.

I reach out through the mindlink, needing to hear the one voice that has always brought me comfort.

“Daddy.”

The word comes out shaky, and I press a hand to my mouth to stifle a sob. My father and I haven’t spoken in the three years since I married Logan.

“Evelyn? What’s wrong?” His voice is soft but commanding, carrying the strength I’ve missed so much.

“I’m divorced,” I tell him solemnly, my throat tight with emotion. The admission feels heavier than I expected, as though saying it out loud makes it more real.

“Did you finally see the true face of that man?” he asks, his tone calm but sharp.

I don’t respond. Instead, I let out a quiet sob, the weight of everything crashing down on me all at once.

“Return home to the palace, my princess,” my father orders.