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Camellia's POV

Rain was tapping against the window, a low, steady thrum that made the house feel even more empty.

I sat out on the terrace alone, absentmindedly tracing the tablecloth, my eyes drifting to the empty seat across from me.

Tonight was my third anniversary with Esmond, the Alpha of the Ironclaw pack.

I caught my reflection in the glass. The faint scar on my neck shimmered—the ghost of a bite that never quite took.

He'd never gone deep enough to actually seal our bond.

But he'd promised that tonight, under the Blood Moon, he would finally mark me for real.

He was supposed to be back from a business trip. He wasn't.

The dinner I'd worked so hard on was sitting there cold: roasted venison, stewed veggies, a bottle of Silver Flame. I'd even made a little cake with a "3" candle on top. The flame was flickering, struggling to stay lit in the chilly night air.

Everything I'd put into tonight—all that love and effort—was just being swallowed by the dark.

Time ticked by. The food grew cold, and the candle flicker faded until it was barely there.

My anxiety spiked—the air in the room felt so thick I could hardly breathe.

My phone buzzed. A F******k friend request.

The profile pic was a total stranger, but the message said, "A little surprise for you."

I was about to hit decline when another text popped up. "Still awake? Is it because your mate isn't there to keep you company?"

My gut twisted.

How did this person know Esmond wasn't home?

I didn't accept the request, but a video preview popped up anyway. "Stop acting like you aren't watching."

I clicked it. It was the rooftop restaurant in LA. Fireworks were exploding outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, framing a couple in a perfect, cinematic silhouette.

Esmond, my mate, was leaning in, kissing a woman.

He was holding a piece of lemon cake, gently feeding it to her.

"No... no way," I whispered, the words dying in the empty room.

I scrambled to call his private line.

The first time, he declined it. The second, it went to voicemail.

On the third try, he finally picked up. I heard loud jazz in the background and Esmond' voice, cold and completely over it.

"I'm dealing with an emergency. Can you try being mature for once?"

"Esmond," I said, my nails digging into the wood of the table. "It's a full moon. It's our third anniversary. Where are you? Who are you with?"

There was a beat of dead silence. "We'll make it up some other time," he snapped. "I'm busy."

"Beep—"

In that second, my wolf let out a jagged, soul-crushing howl.

A white-hot pain exploded from the temporary mark on my neck, screaming through my entire body.

It was a bone-deep agony, like a dull saw was trying to rip my soul in half.

The world started to blur. Our weak mating bond had suddenly turned into a cursed live-feed.

Through his eyes, I saw everything: clothes strewn from the hallway to the bedroom, and most gut-wrenching of all, a red lace nightgown ripped to shreds right by the door.

Then, the bed. Esmond was naked, holding that woman.

She was kneeling between his legs, and he had his eyes closed, looking like he was in heaven.

"Yes... just like that. Perfect..."

Then he flipped her over and pinned her down.

The crystal glass in my hand slipped, shattering against the floor. The sound felt like an axe splitting my brain.

Shards sliced into my ankle, blood blooming across the stone, but I didn't feel a thing.

I tried to reach out through our mental link, but there was nothing there. Just a void.

Eight years. We went from college sweethearts to a formal mating.

Everyone in the pack envied us; they called us "Goddess-blessed."

What a joke.

I curled up on the cold floor, the severance of our soul-tie echoing in a scream only I could hear.

I curled up on the cold stone floor, feeling our bond rip apart. A whimper escaped me—one only I could hear.

I grabbed my hair, pulling at it as a strangled, wolf-like howl tore from my throat. Then, the tears just wouldn't stop.

A knock at the door startled me. I struggled to my feet and opened it.

My best friend, Eugenia, stood there, gasping when she saw the state of me. "You're bleeding! Your hands, your feet—Camelia, what happened? Did Esmond do this?"

"Don't," I rasped, the name tasting like ash in my mouth. "Don't say his name."

I swallowed hard, the bitterness coating my throat. "He's cheating, Eugenia. The mating bond... it showed me everything. Every disgusting detail. I can still feel the pain."

Eugenia gripped my hand, her eyes full of pity. "Maybe you two can talk—"

"There's nothing to talk about," I cut her off. I pressed a hand over the stinging mark on my neck, my voice turning to steel. "I'm breaking the contract. I'm done."