Chapter 12

Cain's POV

The first report comes before sunrise.

A patrol along the eastern border was attacked sometime during the night—not a full assault, but enough to leave blood on the ground and fear in the air. Rogues again. Always rogues. Like shadows that refuse to stay where they belong.

“They didn’t kill anyone,” the warrior finishes, jaw tight. “But they wanted us to know they were there.”

The council room of the Alpha mansion hums with low voices and tension. My father stands at the head of the table, arms crossed, expression carved from stone.

“Double the patrols,” he orders. “No lone guards. If they cross our borders again, I want them hunted down.”

I nod, already adjusting schedules in my head. Strategy comes easily. Duty always has. It’s the one thing I’ve never questioned.

But something inside me feels… off.

As the meeting drags on, a sudden sensation hits me so hard my fingers curl into the edge of the table.

It’s not pain.

It’s absence.

The constant pressure beneath my ribs—the invisible pull that has haunted me since the night I rejected her—disappears completely. My breath stutters, heart missing a beat as the silence floods in.

She accepted it.

Cora.

My wolf slams against my control, restless and sharp, pacing like he’s searching for something that no longer exists.

She let you go, he growls.

The realization settles heavy and cold in my chest.

For days, the bond had lingered—strained but present. I’d felt her fear in flashes. Her pain. That terrifying moment when she nearly died somewhere beyond our borders, dragging something vital out of me with her.

Now there’s nothing.

No ache.

No echo.

No Cora.

I excuse myself the moment the meeting ends, leaving the council chamber just as servants hurry past carrying bolts of fabric, flowers, and trays of polished silver.

Wedding preparations.

My wedding.

Aurora’s voice floats down the hallway, bright and animated as she speaks with my mother about dates and ceremonies. She’s glowing. Confident. Certain.

Exactly what my father wants.

I stop walking.

The thought of standing beside her while Cora disappears into the forest—alone, unwanted—makes my chest tighten painfully.

I find my father in his study later that morning, standing near the window overlooking pack lands. He doesn’t turn when I enter.

“She’s gone,” I say quietly.

He knows who I mean.

“Good,” he replies without hesitation. “That chapter is closed.”

I stare at him, something sharp twisting in my gut. “She accepted the rejection. The bond is severed.”

He turns then, studying me closely. “And?”

“And she’s alone,” I snap. “No pack. No protection. And no one is looking for her.”

My father’s expression hardens. “She chose that path.”

“She was rejected,” I correct. “Publicly. By me.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that she was weak,” he says coldly. “A liability. Sentiment doesn’t build strong packs, Cain.”

My wolf snarls, furious.

“She nearly died,” I say through clenched teeth.

“And she didn’t,” he counters. “Which proves nothing.”

I take a step closer, fists clenched. “Aurora’s parents haven’t sent a single patrol. Her sister hasn’t even asked about her.”

“That girl was never their priority,” my father says. “And she shouldn’t be yours.”

Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.

“You made the right choice,” he adds firmly. “Aurora strengthens alliances. She fits beside you. She's trained,she's strong. Perfect for Luna. Focus on what matters—the pack, the rogues, your future as Alpha.”

I leave before I say something unforgivable.

Later, I corner her parents in the main hall.

“Any word?” I ask bluntly.

Sarah Snow looks startled. John frowns.

“Word of what?” Sarah asks.

“Cora,” I snap. “Has anyone gone looking for her?”

A pause. Too long.

John sighs. “She made her choice. Running away only proves she wasn’t fit for pack life.”

Something inside me fractures.

“She’s twenty,” I say tightly. “And she was hurt.”

Aurora appears beside them, arms crossed. “She rejected reality, Cain. What did you expect us to do? Beg her to come back?”

My wolf growls low and dangerous.

I turn away before I say something I can’t take back.

That night, Aurora comes to my room, her touch familiar and claiming. She talks about the ceremony, about colors and guests and how everything is finally falling into place.

“She accepted it,” I say finally, my voice low. “The rejection.”

Aurora blinks. Then scoffs.

“Finally,” she says. “About time.”

The word cuts deeper than it should.

“The bond’s gone,” she says smugly, pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Now we can move on.”

I don’t tell her how it felt when it broke.

How empty my chest still feels.

How my wolf hasn’t stopped pacing.

Outside, distant howls echo—too close, too frequent. Rogues pressing in. Threats growing bolder.

And somewhere beyond our borders, the girl I rejected survives on her own.

I chose duty.

But lying awake in a bed meant for a future that suddenly feels wrong, I can’t escape the truth clawing at my mind.

I may have obeyed my father.

But I abandoned her.

And the consequences are only beginning.