The pain hit before I could breathe.
A crack through the center of my chest, sharp and splitting, like my ribs were being pried apart from the inside. My knees buckled. I grabbed the arm of the person beside me, and they stepped away.
Then — nothing.
The pain vanished as fast as it had come. One second my chest was tearing open. The next I was standing in the middle of the hall, feeling nothing at all. Just cold. Just numb.
I blinked.
Harrison was staring at me. Not with the flat authority he'd used a moment ago. His eyes were wide. His face had gone white.
Then I felt it. A warmth in my chest, faint but steady, like a pulse that wasn't mine. The mate bond. Still there. Still pulling toward him the way it always did.
He'd said the words. He'd rejected me. And the bond hadn't snapped.
My eyes burned. My throat closed. I didn't even try to sound dignified. "You're not rejecting me anymore?"
Harrison's jaw tightened. Sasha's eyes narrowed.
Around us, the crowd had gone still. Confused murmurs rippled through the hall. Warriors glanced at each other. Someone whispered, "It didn't work?"
"She is the Alpha's fated mate." A girl's voice cut through the noise. "Rejecting a fated mate is a violation of the Moon Goddess's will."
The whispers sharpened. Harrison's expression darkened. Sasha's hands curled at her sides.
"Maya." Harrison's voice dropped to ice. "You have no right to speak here."
The girl closed her mouth reluctantly.
Harrison turned to the crowd. He rolled his shoulders back. Lifted his chin. His face went blank. Just like that — composure back, jaw set, eyes steady. When he spoke again, his voice carried the same smooth weight it always did.
"This is not a failure," he said. "I've reconsidered. Vera's body is fragile. She has no wolf. Forcing the rejection could cause her physical harm." A pause, timed like a speech. "Out of respect for our time together as mates, I will hold a formal rejection ceremony at the next full moon."
The hall exhaled. Murmurs rolled outward.
"Alpha is too merciful."
"She's a rogue. She should be grateful for this kind of respect."
Ten days. He was giving me ten days to disappear.
I found my voice. "Harrison." It came out small. Wrecked. I hated the sound of it but I couldn't fix it. "Can we talk? Just us. Please."
The word please tasted like ash. I'd never had to beg him for anything before. Even when money was tight, even when the blood tests came back wrong, I'd handled it. Quietly. On my own.
Now I was begging my own husband to look at me.
He studied me for a beat. Then turned and walked toward the side corridor without a word.
I followed. My legs were unsteady, and the blue cotton of my dress had gone dark where someone's ale had soaked through the sleeve. I smelled like a tavern floor.
Sasha followed too.
I stopped at the corridor entrance. "Sasha, I'm Harrison's wife. I'd like to speak with my husband alone."
Sasha gave me a slow, deliberate once-over. A small laugh escaped through her nose. She didn't move.
I looked at Harrison. He didn't ask her to leave.
"Say what you need to say, Vera."
I swallowed the sting. Focused.
"Are you really going to defy the Moon Goddess?" I asked. "Because I can't bear you an heir?" My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against my skirt. "Harrison, I went to the doctor today. My body's recovered. I can—"
"Sasha fought on the front lines for this Pack." His voice cut mine clean in half. "She carries the blessing of Selene. She bled for every person in that hall." His eyes didn't waver. "She is a warrior. Not a housewife."
Housewife.
My hands were rough from a year of ink stains and paper cuts. I'd sat at that desk until two in the morning more nights than I could count, balancing numbers that didn't add up, chasing debts his Beta forgot to collect.
Housewife.
"I could have been a warrior too," I said quietly.
He didn't even pause. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be. Think about your conditions and bring them to the elders at the full moon."
"But if you'd just listen—"
"Enough." Not Harrison. Sasha.
She stepped forward, her chin high. "I am the daughter of Alpha Theron. I don't have patience for this."
Her eyes locked on mine.
"You're a rogue." She spat the word. "You can't give him a child." Her gaze swept down my body, then back up. "You can't fight, you can't protect this Pack, and you clearly can't hold your husband's attention."
She let the silence sit.
"Alpha Harrison is generous enough to sit here and talk to you at all. So be smart." Her voice dropped. "Name your price. And leave."
Something cracked inside the numbness. My jaw locked. My spine straightened on its own.
"You have no connection to this Pack," I said. My voice came out low and steady. "Harrison and I still have a mate bond. Right now, you're nothing but the other woman."
Sasha's face went crimson.
Her hand came up fast. Open palm, aimed at my cheek.
My body moved before my brain caught up. I caught her wrist. My fingers locked around it. And I shoved.
Sasha didn't stumble. She flew.
Her back hit the stone wall three feet behind her. She slid down, gasping, eyes blown wide.
I stared at my own hand. My fingers were trembling, but not from weakness. Something hummed under my skin, hot and unfamiliar, like a second heartbeat that didn't belong to me.
Sasha stared at me from the floor. Her lips parted. For a second, something besides contempt crossed her face.
"Vera." Harrison's voice was a blade. "Sasha held back for your sake. She could have blocked that without trying. And this is how you repay her?"
He crossed to Sasha without looking at me. Helped her up. Brushed the dust from her arm.
"Go home," he said over his shoulder. "Cool down. And stay away from the feast."
He paused at the corridor entrance. Sasha tucked against his side.
"This isn't your place, Vera."
They walked away. The sound of the feast swelled when the door opened, then cut off when it closed behind them.
The corridor went quiet. The torchlight flickered against the stone.
I stood there alone, the ale drying stiff on my sleeve, my hand still buzzing with a strength I couldn't explain.
Behind me, the feast went on without me.