C1

Stellan Valecrest POV

“Want me to go deeper, little wolf?” My voice is low and rough, carrying the growl of the beast beneath my skin. The cold bedroom air does little to soothe our ragged breathing.

On the nightstand, my communicator flashes red, demanding my attention. I ignore it.

Rosamund bites down on her lip, struggling to keep quiet, but my relentless rhythm draws soft gasps from her. Her body trembles beneath me, pushed to its limits. My expression remains cold and unreadable.

Once a month. That is the only time I am expected to honor our mating bond. But tonight, the heat in my veins overrides every restraint, driving me dangerously close to losing control.

The communicator vibrates again, cutting through the silence. I pull away, my jaw tightening. Moments later, Rosamund sinks into the furs, her body trembling as she reaches her release.

I roll out of bed and snatch up the glowing device. When I answer, my voice cuts through the silence.

“Don't cry. I'm on my way,” I say, my tone softening in a way it never does when I speak to the woman in my bed.

I end the call, pull on my leather riding gear, and glance over my shoulder.

“I'm leaving. Don't wait up for me at the pack house.”

Rosamund lies among the tangled furs, watching me in silence.

I'm tall and lean, with broad shoulders and a chiseled jaw that reflects the arrogance of the Valecrest bloodline. I was once the male every unmated female in Silvermere City wanted, the golden-haired heir whose smile could win him entire territories. It took three years in a loveless mating bond for Rosamund to discover what lay beneath that charming smile.

My hand closes around the heavy iron latch.

“I want to end our mate bond,” she says.

Her voice is calm and steady. No anger. No hesitation. Just a chilling sense of finality.

I pause and turn to face her. My glare settles on her.

“Was I not enough for you tonight, Rosamund? What more could you possibly want from me?”

“I'm done pretending to be your Luna,” she replies, meeting my gaze without flinching. “There's no point in dragging this out any longer.”

A harsh sneer twists my mouth.

“Don't you dare take back what you just said. I have no patience for games.”

“Don't worry,” she says calmly. “I won't.”

“Suit yourself.”

I slam the heavy oak door behind me. The crash echoes down the stone corridor as I walk away without looking back.

By morning, I return to Valecrest Manor, dark circles beneath my eyes after a sleepless night. The tension clings to me like a second skin.

“Tell Rosamund to wait for me in the dining hall,” I snap at Hettie, the head housekeeper. “She knows what to do. She can massage my temples while I eat.”

Her touch is the only thing that eases the blinding headaches brought on by my restless wolf.

I sink into the carved wooden chair at the head of the long dining table and press my fingers against my throbbing temples.

Hettie stands near the stone archway, her head bowed.

“Alpha... the Luna left the territory before dawn. She left these behind for you.”

My eyes fly open.

On the polished table lie a heavy iron key, an identification crest, and an official document bearing the seal of mate-bond severance.

“Stubborn, foolish girl.”

My fangs lengthen as I bite down on my lower lip. I grab my communicator and call her directly, but a flat, mechanical tone answers me. She has blocked me through the pack network.

Fury surges through my chest. I smash the communicator against the oak table, shattering its screen into a dozen jagged pieces.

Beneath the broken glass, the lock-screen image remains visible: Rosamund, laughing beneath the harvest moon, looking as radiant as she did the day she first entered my pack.

## Rosamund Ashby POV

I stand on the top floor of the Council Tower, my fingers wrapped around my silent communicator. Far below, the lights of Silvermere City stretch across the dark territory, but my attention remains fixed on the device in my hand.

It buzzes with an incoming call through the pack network. I press it to my ear.

“Mother,” I say before she can speak. “For three years, you and Calder have used my mate bond with the Valecrest family to get whatever you wanted. I'm done being your bargaining chip.”

Rowena Ashby's voice shrills through the speaker.

“Have you lost your mind, Rosamund? You're turning your back on them now? You're supposed to stand beside Stellan! Get back to the manor and beg for his forgiveness!”

“No,” I reply, gripping the communicator so tightly my knuckles turn white. “I'm not going to bow to him, and I'm certainly not going to apologize for taking back control of my life.”

A cold knot forms in my stomach as I remember Stellan's icy stare, but I force the feeling aside.

“The elders arranged this mate bond to serve their own interests,” I say over her furious protests. “But ending it is my decision. The Ashby family will no longer use me as bargaining currency.”

“You arrogant little bitch!” Rowena screams. “How dare you speak to your mother like that? If only you had half the sense of your sister Blythe—”

I end the call before she can finish and shove the communicator into my coat pocket. I refuse to sit through another lecture about how I will never measure up to Blythe.

Turning back toward the vast training hall, I take a deep breath to steady myself. This place is mine, a refuge from my family's expectations and the wreckage of my failed mate bond. A woman doesn't need an Alpha's mark to survive, but she does need to know how to defend herself.

Across the stone floor, a young initiate struggles to maintain his stance, his silver broadsword trembling in his grip. I step into the training area, dressed in fitted leather with a silver crest resting against my collarbone.

Moving behind him, I adjust his grip on the sword.

“Keep your weight centered. A sword won't care if you're nervous.”

The young wolf flushes and looks up at me, his attention wandering as he becomes distracted by my proximity.

“Am I interrupting something?”

A smooth, dangerous voice comes from the doorway.

My body stiffens.

Stellan leans against the stone frame, a dark smile playing on his lips as his golden eyes move from the young wolf to me.

“Hello, my Luna,” he says, his voice dripping with false affection. “Keeping yourself busy?”

I straighten my back, concealing the sudden pounding of my heart.

“How did you get past the guards?”

He doesn't answer. He simply watches me with the stillness of a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

I turn to the initiate and keep my voice steady.

“That will be enough for today. Clear the hall.”

The young wolf hurriedly sheaths his sword and lowers his head as he rushes past Stellan and out into the corridor.

The moment the heavy iron doors close, Stellan moves.

In two strides, he crosses the floor and corners me against the wall, his imposing frame blocking my escape.

“Are you done playing games?” he demands, his patience clearly wearing thin.

I give him a bitter smile.

“I made myself perfectly clear at the pack house. It's over.”

“So you're really going to challenge me?” He steps closer, his boots striking heavily against the stone floor. His dominant scent fills the space between us.

“Yes. I am.”

Before I can reach for my blade, his hands close around my waist, pulling me against him.

“Why can't you just behave like a good mate?” he whispers, his breath brushing my ear.

Despite myself, a shiver runs down my spine, but I force my body to remain still.

“Let me go, Stellan. What do you want?”

He gives a low chuckle. His fingers curl beneath my chin, forcing me to meet his dark, possessive gaze.

“I know what's really behind this little rebellion,” he murmurs, pressing his thumb against my lower lip. “You're terrified of what the Elder Council will do when they find out. We can silence them all if you give me an heir.”

Before I can respond, he lowers his head and kisses me forcefully, leaving me breathless.