Bonnie Ware

My mate, Kane Blackwood, was the most feared Alpha in the Northlands. For three years, he treated me like something that belonged to him. He would drag me into his arms on the stone steps after moon rituals, pin me against the wall in Blackthorn Keep’s long corridors, and bite the mark on the back of my neck beside the patrol trails in the border woods, as if he needed everyone to remember exactly whose Luna I was. I used to think that was his way of loving me. Rough. Possessive. Lacking tenderness. But love, all the same. Until one night, I stopped outside the council hall and heard an elder say in a furious voice, “Those charcoal sketches on the black market were released by your people, weren’t they? Every one of them is of you and Elena in bed. She has become a joke across the pack. Do you even understand what you’ve done?” There was a brief silence. Then Kane said, coldly, “She is the Luna the council chose for me. She is not the woman I wanted.” I stood frozen outside the door. All those years, I thought his roughness meant he loved me too fiercely to be gentle. But it was never love. It was humiliation. Punishment for taking the place of the woman he actually wanted. I lowered my eyes to the moonstone bracelet on my wrist, the one he had clasped there the day our mating contract was sealed. If that was all I had ever been to him, then I would leave.

On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, the old Alpha King laid the names of several heirs before me and told me to choose my future mate. Because I was the only pureblood heiress of the Redmoon Pack. For generations, Redmoon Pack had bound itself to the Alpha King’s line through bond. Only my bloodline could bear true pureblood heirs, and whoever formed a bond with me would stand closest to becoming the next Alpha King. This was never just a bond. Even so, I chose without hesitation. Kaelan, the fourth heir. Everyone present was stunned. Everyone across the packs knew that I, Sia, the pureblood heiress of Redmoon Pack, had loved Raine, first heir to the Alpha King’s line, since I was young. I had once declared before the gathered packs that I would bond with no one but him. In my previous life, I got exactly what I wanted. I bonded with Raine. But three days after our bond was sealed, he told me he intended to bring my half-sister, Veya, into his household and keep her by his side. My mother refused, and Veya was instead promised to one of my father’s young retainers. Raine hated me for it. He believed I had torn him and Veya apart. After that, one she-wolf after another appeared at his side, and every one of them resembled Veya in some way. He let them humiliate me, torment me, and grind me down until I died on the day he took the title of Alpha King. Now that I had lived again, I wanted only one thing: to stay far away from him, leave him to Veya, and spare myself. But when the old Alppha King’s bond pact finally came down, the same Raine who had once wanted me dead lost control on the spot and openly defied it.

Three days ago, Damon Ashford marked me. The night he became Alpha, he sank his fangs into my neck under the moonlight. When his wolf blood mixed with mine, my wolf soul trembled violently. I thought the bond was taking root. I was too excited, too happy to tell the difference between real blood transfer and the simple sting of broken skin. This morning I went to City Hall without telling him. I wanted to pick up our certificate and frame it for our bedroom wall. I wanted to surprise him. The clerk checked the system, then looked up at me. "Whitmore, the mark on your neck is fake. There is no trace of wolf blood exchange." "Also, Ashford completed a formal registration with a woman named Clara Wellick two weeks ago." Under wolf law, a mark must be registered within seven days or it becomes invalid. I came to register, only to find I was never registered at all. I took off the scarf covering my neck and dropped it into the trash can outside City Hall. Standing on the steps, I sent my brother a message. Marcus, I’ll go with you for the closed medical research.

The most reckless thing I had ever done was turn my back on the Moretti name and leave St. Clair Harbor with Lucian DeLuca when the Commission pushed his family out and he had nothing left. For three years, we lived in a drafty Brooklyn loft and ducked black Chevrolets on winter nights. Then Lucian fought his way back to the East Coast table. Everyone started calling him Mr. DeLuca again,and I became Mrs. DeLuca, the woman he swore he would always protect. Then Clara Voss appeared. She had once saved his life as a night nurse at an underground clinic, and Lucian never forgot it. He bought her a clinic, protected her family, and let her step, inch by inch, into the middle of our marriage. He said he still loved me, but he also said I was spoiled, jealous, and needed to learn my place. So I did. I signed the divorce papers and left New York behind. Mrs. DeLuca was dead. Evelyn Moretti had come back.

“That video in the group chat was filmed in your bridal suite, wasn’t it?” one of the women asked with a grin. “Sleeping around right under Adela’s nose? That’s bold.” Lorenzo leaned back, swirling his drink, looking pleased with himself. “Yes.” “I used to be too sick to do half the things I wanted,” he said, tapping his chest. “After the transplant, I realized spending the rest of my life with only one lover would be a waste.” The room erupted. He let them laugh, then added, “I set myself a goal. One hundred places before the wedding. Once it’s over, I’ll settle down. After that, my body and my marriage belong to Adela.” More laughter. More glasses raised. I stood outside the door with one hand pressed hard against my chest, where an artificial heart kept beating. Lorenzo never knew I had learned his language. He also never knew that I had already discovered he was keeping Vera—our wedding’s mistress of ceremonies—behind my back. And because he had hidden something from me, I had hidden something from him. I had already booked an assisted death service overseas.

After Seraphina Vale stole three men fate had once chosen for me, I swore I would never let another wolf claim me. Until Dorian Blackthorn, the Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack, claimed me in front of everyone. He swore his loyalty under the moon oath, turning away every approach from Seraphina. He even called out her behavior publicly in the council hall. For the first time, I thought I had found a wolf worth entrusting my soul to. Three years into marriage, I saw Seraphina again. Someone asked her, “What’s the most reckless thing you’ve ever done?” She licked her lips, eyes unfocused. “Of course, having Dorian Blackthorn mark me. His mate still foolishly thinks he truly hates me.” “In truth, I’ve borne his pup, lived in his territory, driven his car, spent his money.” Everyone’s eyes turned to me. After all, I was Dorian’s Lunna. I did not react. I simply sent the letter I had drafted for three days to the Black Moon Medical Team. The reply came swiftly to my mind: [Your appointment has been confirmed.] [The Black Moon Medical Team welcomes you as its new chief healer. Your office and residence have been prepared.] My wolf growled low in my chest. In two days, I would leave this pack and take up my new post.