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I Ended Our Mate Bond on Our Anniversary
NovelShort
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“Attorney, I want to sever ties with Lucien—and resign from his pack leadership. Draft two agreements for me.” The lawyer raised an eyebrow, cautious. “Sylvara, your bond with him… it wasn...
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第1章
“Alpha… I want to sever my bond with Lucien and renounce my place in his pack. Draft the agreements for me.”
The attorney—a seasoned pack mediator—tilted his head, eyes wary.
“Sylvara… breaking from a mate is never simple. Your bond didn’t form overnight. Think carefully before signing anything irreversible.”
Sylvara Thorne had served as Lucien’s second-in-command in the Thorne Pack for three years. Hidden from the world, she had also been his mate for the same amount of time.
A month ago, everything had shattered. She had been captured by rogue hunters—humans who preyed on supernatural beings—and trapped in a cursed forest. The hunters contacted Lucien repeatedly, demanding the pack’s treasure in exchange for her life. He hadn’t responded once.
When they finally cast her into the icy river, she nearly drowned, but a wandering shifter—a river wolf—rescued her before death claimed her.
Meanwhile, that same night, Lucien was elsewhere. Not hunting, not searching.
He was in the heat of the moonlit lodge… with Tahlia, Sylvara’s younger sister and fellow pack member.
Years of devotion, the bond of their matehood, three years of shared life—all of it shattered under the moon’s pale gaze.
Sylvara finally awoke from her illusions. She had loved a ghost. Now, she was ready to sever the ties that bound her for good.
“I’ve decided,” Sylvara said, voice steady but cold. “And Lucien won’t oppose me.”
For three long years, she had known—he had never truly cared for her.
But she had loved him since their youth. When he accepted the mate bond three years ago, she had wept tears of joy, believing she was finally home.
Soon, their third lunar anniversary would arrive.
She had prepared one final offering—a gift of release: the dissolution of their bond.
---
That evening, Sylvara returned to the pack’s ancestral villa and found Lucien in the kitchen of the main lodge.
Even as an alpha, he had always been meticulous, especially about keeping the lodge immaculate. She remembered the first year of their bond—he had barged in while she prepared a meal, wrinkled his nose, and growled, “Does this lodge double as a den for scavengers?”
But when Tahlia admitted she enjoyed his cooking, he had joined a human culinary course for her sake, blending his wolfish instincts with delicate human techniques.
Tonight, the aroma of the feast filled the air.
“You said the council meeting ended early. Why are you home so late?” he asked, tall frame looming even in an apron.
Sylvara forced a casual smile. “New initiates joined the pack. I’ve been preparing their orientation rituals.”
He didn’t press—he rarely noticed her outside her duties.
“Alright. Dinner’s ready. Sit.”
She did, watching as he placed a slice of bitter melon onto her plate.
“I remembered you liked this. Made it just for you.”
A dull ache flared in her chest.
Tahlia loved bitter melon. Sylvara’s allergies had always flared with it.
Three years together, and he still couldn’t tell the difference.
If he had ever truly paid attention, he would have remembered.
“Avy?” Lucien’s frown deepened when she didn’t touch her plate. “Why aren’t you eating?”
Gently, Sylvara pushed the dish aside and retrieved two documents from her pack satchel.
“Dinner can wait. You need to sign these agreements.”
He growled softly—a low, disapproving rumble. “Contracts at the table? Do they burn with urgency?”
Before he could take them, his comms device buzzed.
He turned, hand shielding the screen, but Sylvara glimpsed the caller ID: Tahlia.
Lucien’s claws scraped the balcony railing as he stalked outside, still speaking low tones into the device. In his haste, he knocked over a plate; shards of enchanted glass exploded across the floor. One slice slashed Sylvara’s fingertip, blood pooling darkly against the tiles.
He didn’t notice.
Fifteen minutes later, he returned, grabbing his cloak.
“I have urgent matters tonight. I won’t be dining here.”
“You haven’t signed yet,” Sylvara called after him.
He sighed, irritation flashing in his eyes, but finally flipped to the last page and marked his clawed signature.
“Done. Can I leave now?”
She stared at the inked marks that ended their mate bond and her role in his pack. Nodding, she whispered, “Yes… go.”
Lucien departed without a backward glance.
If he had cared, he would have realized the first document severed her ties to his pack—the second ended their mate bond.
He would have seen the blood on her hand.
But his heart had always followed Tahlia—her sister, the “true” daughter of the Winslet clan.
Twenty-five years ago, the nanny and Vionna, Sylvara’s mother, gave birth in the same hospital under a blood moon. A mix-up swapped the infants. Sylvara, the rightful heiress, was raised by the nanny in secret, while Tahlia grew as the adored child of the Winslets.
The truth surfaced only five years later, after the nanny’s death. The Winslets welcomed Sylvara but refused to relinquish Tahlia. Vionna’s words had lingered:
“Avy, hearts are flesh and blood. We’ve raised Yannie. Now that her mother is gone, she only has us. If we expose the truth, the world will scorn her.”
To society, Tahlia remained the heiress. Only the families knew Sylvara’s true bloodline.
Lucien and Tahlia had been childhood mates, destined for an engagement. When Tahlia fell for a French alpha overseas and left, Sylvara was offered in her place. Lucien, loyal to pack protocol, complied.
Then, a month ago, Tahlia returned, and Lucien betrayed her completely.
He even released a recording of their intimate moments online, a public curse to force Sylvara out of the Thorne lineage.
Sylvara had watched. She heard him whisper to Tahlia:
“Sylvara never wronged me, but if I simply dissolve the bond, the clans will protest. We must ruin her reputation.”
Tahlia’s voice had been soft. “After three years… did you ever love her?”
“She was only a placeholder. I married her to appease the families.”
Sylvara had once believed her patience and sincerity could awaken his heart. Now, she realized she had been foolish.
Tears stung her eyes as she pulled out a small leather notebook.
Three years prior, she had sworn: If he disappoints me ninety-nine times, I will leave.
The video marked the ninety-ninth betrayal.
That night, Sylvara placed three keepsakes into a ceremonial box, locked it in the secure vault—her final anniversary gift.
It was her release, his freedom, and the closure she had long awaited.
With everything ready, Sylvara dialed a number she hadn’t used in three years.
Her voice, hushed but firm, trembled with resolve:
“Red… my divorce cooling-off period ends next moon. Come and take me away then.”
第2章
Sylvara thought it would take ages for the call to connect. She was wrong—the line picked up almost immediately.
“Sylvara,” a low, sharp voice rasped through the speaker, “don’t even think about playing games with me.”
She remained silent, letting the growl of his tone sink in.
“I’ve been hunting for you as long as you’ve been pining for Lucien. Seven years, icy as a frost wolf, and suddenly you’re giving in? What made you change your mind?”
Red Ralston. Her former mate, a high-ranking alpha in North Carolina’s elite wolf packs.
He had pursued her relentlessly for seven cycles of the moon. Once, she had almost pledged herself to him.
But on the night she was meant to decide, Lucien had appeared, offering her hope, promising warmth in the cold wilderness of her life. And so, she had left Red behind.
Faced with his sharp questions, she drew in a shaky breath. “I… I wasn’t thinking clearly. Forget what I just said.”
A sudden thump echoed over the line, loud and forceful, as though something heavy had crashed onto the floor.
“You don’t get to call me when it suits you and vanish when it doesn’t, Sylvara,” Red growled, his voice rising in pure alpha command. “You chose me this time. Don’t think about running away again.”
“I’m giving you thirty days,” he warned, teeth grinding faintly. “Deal with that… other wolf. After that, I’m coming for what’s mine.”
Before she could speak, the line went dead. A sharp click ended the connection.
A small, wry smile tugged at her lips. ‘Some things never change,’ she thought, shaking her head.
That night, Lucien did not return to the villa.
She spent the hours in silence, wandering through the villa, folding old belongings into boxes, sorting through memories. Dawn crept over the horizon by the time the front door finally creaked open.
He entered, still in his rumpled clothes from the night before, scent faintly of cedar and smoke from the hearth. “What are you throwing away?”
Sylvara flinched slightly but quickly straightened, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Just some old things.”
He moved closer, leaning over a box, sniffing the air lightly. Clothes, mementos, gifts he had given her—all piled inside.
“You call these… old things?”
“Old gifts, old clothes,” she said lightly, voice calm. “They take up room. I thought I’d send them to the orphaned cubs in the Appalachian hills. Might even improve your reputation among the neighboring packs.”
Lucien’s lips twitched, the faintest curve forming, but his eyes remained sharp. “Hmm… clever.”
Relief fluttered inside her, but she did not let herself relax. He wasn’t convinced by words—he simply refused to waste more time on trivialities.
A sudden crash from behind made her spin.
Tahlia stood there, wide-eyed, a shattered statuette at her feet. Her smile was the kind that lured predators into traps, innocent yet subtly dangerous.
“Oops… sorry, Mondy, Avy. Didn’t mean to.”
Lucien didn’t even glance at the broken artifact. His attention went straight to Tahlia, checking her for injuries with quick, precise movements.
Seeing no sign of harm, his tension eased slightly. “It’s fine. Nothing matters more than you.”
But Tahlia’s gaze shifted to Sylvara, head tilted innocently. “You don’t mind, right, Avy?”
Sylvara’s eyes fell.
The sculpture had been one of a kind, carved after a trip to the highlands—a blend of both her and Lucien’s likenesses, infused with wolf-bond magic.
Now, it was reduced to fragments.
Years ago, she would have scolded Tahlia, perhaps even snapped, but now… she simply looked up and said, “It’s okay.”
A flicker of something—pride, envy, or satisfaction—passed over Tahlia’s face, gone before Sylvara could decipher it. “Aww… you’re so gracious,” she said sweetly.
Then Tahlia turned to Lucien without missing a beat. “With a sister like that, I’m sure she won’t object to my next little request either.”
Lucien didn’t even glance at Sylvara. His eyes focused on Tahlia as he spoke, authoritative and calm.
“Yannie’s back in North Carolina. Her parents aren’t in the territory, and she’s uneasy staying alone. In the meantime, she can stay here.
“And—your room faces the sunrise. She’s always been sensitive to the cold. Make sure she gets it.”
Sylvara’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing, letting the alpha of the house make his decisions as the new hierarchy of tensions quietly settled around them.
第3章
Even after three cycles of the moon spent as mates, they didn’t always share the same den at night.
Lucien had once growled, low and unwavering, that he didn’t like having anyone curled up beside him.
Sylvara had long since understood—it wasn’t merely “someone” he wanted space from. It was always her.
She also knew he had always been cautious with Tahlia. He likely rehearsed every word, every justification for the young wolf, but when Sylvara agreed without protest, it had thrown him off balance.
“Fine,” she said softly, voice smooth as velvet, “there’s far too much of my things in your den anyway. I’ll take it all out myself.”
It hardly mattered whether she left her belongings today or a month from now.
The moment her words left her lips, Lucien opened his mouth to argue—an instinctive retort hovering just out of reach—but Tahlia’s sweet, calculated interjection cut him off.
“Thanks, Avy,” she said innocently.
Sylvara offered no reply. She bent low, arms thin but steady, lifting a heavy crate and maneuvering it toward the stairs.
The box was far too full. Her foot slipped against a hidden shard of glass on the floor, and she fell. Her knee slammed against the tiles, slicing into flesh, shards biting cruelly.
Pain seared through her body, a blaze that made her spine stiffen and sweat bead along her neck. She bit her lip hard to keep silent, refusing to cry out.
But Lucien didn’t notice. Tahlia had already tugged him away, leaving Sylvara alone on the floor, trembling as the ache burrowed deeper. One drop of blood fell, then another, tiny droplets staining the cold stone.
In the Winslets’ realm, Lucien would have carried Tahlia’s burdens without hesitation.
“Our little Yannie,” he would have said, warm and indulgent, “deserves to be treated like a princess.”
Sylvara, in contrast, had once been the daughter of a lowly maid. She hauled, scrubbed, and labored while no one lifted a finger. No one cared if she bled or fell.
Now, as the daughter of a pack elder and as Lucien’s mate, nothing had changed.
Everyone still aligned with Tahlia—without question, without pause.
Sylvara had learned to live with it.
The afternoon passed slowly, her hands and arms aching as she sorted through every chest, shelf, and trunk. By the time the sun began to slip below the horizon, her possessions were packed onto a waiting carriage.
“You didn’t have to discard so much,” Lucien said, frowning as he surveyed the load. “Yannie is only staying temporarily. Once she leaves, you’ll return. What’s the point of all this?”
To him, something felt off—she was too composed, unnervingly calm these past few nights.
“They’re relics,” Sylvara replied evenly. “Time to let them go.”
“You’ve never been wasteful,” he observed.
No, she hadn’t. Her life had been one of scarcity, of making everything she owned endure.
Yet she smiled faintly. “They’ve been with me a long time. Sometimes, you need to clear space. Out with the old, right?”
Just like people, she thought silently.
Her explanation sounded reasonable. Had he pressed further, he would have appeared petty. He let the matter drop.
“There’s an auction tonight,” he added, shifting the subject. “The organizers specifically invited me. You’ll attend. With Yannie.”
Sylvara opened her mouth to refuse, but he cut her off with a low, sharp bark of authority.
“You’re my secretary. I cannot appear without one.”
She stared at him. A dozen bitter retorts pressed at her tongue—like, and bringing Tahlia is acceptable?—but she said none. She simply inclined her head. One last duty before vanishing from his life.
Night fell, and inside the auction hall, bright enchanted lamps cast the space in daylight brilliance.
All who mattered were present—wolves and humans alike, polished, practiced, and powerful.
The Thorne Pack had risen swiftly these past two moons, and Jade, the host, stepped forward to greet them with a practiced smile.
“Alpha Thorne. Your seats await. Right this way.”
She gestured toward two adjacent chairs. “I understand congratulations are due. Your mate’s seat is ready beside you.”
For a heartbeat, the three froze.
Lucien’s mate bond had been private, sealed from the pack and outsiders alike. No one was meant to know.
Sylvara glanced at him, waiting. Two women. One additional seat.
The choice was inevitable.
“I am not married,” he said evenly, voice low, controlled. “I don’t know where that rumor began.”
The host blinked, puzzled. “And these two?”
Lucien advanced, taking Tahlia’s hand first.
“This is Tahlia, daughter of the S. Winslet Co., and an important wolf in our allied pack.”
“Ah, Tahlia Winslet,” Jade said politely, acknowledging her.
Then, with a reluctant curl of his lips, Lucien added, “And the one beside you? My secretary.”
Sylvara did not flinch. She had anticipated this brutal announcement. But knowing the cold truth did not dull the sting that pressed in her chest.
She stood tall, swallowing the burn, her dignity intact.
Lucien and Tahlia seated themselves as Sylvara remained behind, a lone sentinel in the chill of the grand hall.
Perhaps it was the crisp night air, perhaps the spectacle of the event, but a stabbing pain cut into her abdomen, sharp and unrelenting.
She pressed a hand to her belly, moving swiftly toward the restrooms—her retreat disguised as necessity, though in truth, she was fleeing.
第4章
She hadn’t even begun her blood cycle—so why did her belly flare with such sudden, searing pain?
Sylvara pushed herself to rise, every step a sharp ache, and made for the door. But it wouldn’t budge. Locked. From the outside.
Then came the grating, triumphant voice of Tahlia echoing through the enchanted seal.
“You pathetic shadow,” Tahlia sneered. “How’s it feel, wearing the scraps of a love that was never yours?
“Lucien has always belonged to me, from the very start. And now that I’ve returned, you’d best step aside.
“And here you are tonight, daring to show up and steal my spotlight?”
Sylvara doubled over, clutching her abdomen, cold sweat running in rivulets down her temples. Her voice was faint, strained, yet edged with defiance. “Tahlia… if you want him, take him. I… I don’t care anymore.”
Tahlia’s laughter was sharp, icy. “Ha! You expect me to believe that?
“You stole my mother’s favor back then… and now you try to take my mate too? Who do you think you are?
“You’re staying in here tonight. No one is coming to rescue you.”
With deliberate flourish, Tahlia dragged a carved wooden sign—“Restricted Area. No Wolves Beyond This Point”—and set it against the enchanted barrier door.
Because certain relics on display tonight were protected by lunar sigils, all attendees had been required to surrender their comm-amulets before entering. No outsider would dare approach. No one but Tahlia would think to check.
Shivering and weak, Avy sank to the stone floor, pressing herself against the wall as pain radiated through her body. Gathering the last of her strength, she slammed her fists on the heavy door and shouted, voice hoarse with desperation.
“Help… anyone… please… help me…”
But the warning runes on the sign kept passersby away; no one dared break the rules. No one came.
She had no sense of how long she wailed, how many heartbeats passed before the agony overcame her, and darkness finally claimed her.
When the auction ended and Sylvara had still not returned, Lucien’s frown was one of casual curiosity rather than concern.
Tahlia batted her lashes innocently. “Mondy, maybe she’s upset because I took her seat?
“If I’d known she’d sulk over it, I wouldn’t have done it.”
Hearing her pretend remorse, Lucien’s brows knitted. “You’re the Winslet heiress. Do you think a secretary belongs in your place?
“Forget it. Let her stew. She’s been puffed up with pride lately. Maybe a night of cool reflection will do her good. Let’s return to the den.”
Out of his sight, Tahlia’s lips curved in triumph. Sylvara, I told you—you can’t beat me. Not my mother, not my mate.
That night, Sylvara did not return to the pack stronghold, yet not once did Lucien inquire after his mate.
The next morning, during her routine rounds, a cleaning apprentice unlocked the restroom door where Sylvara had been trapped.
There she crouched, shivering in a corner. Her robe was soaked through, her body trembling from hours spent against the cold stone.
The apprentice rushed to her side, alarmed. “Mistress… how did you get locked in here? You look faint… should I summon the healers?”
Sylvara’s damp lashes lifted, eyes barely focusing. She forced herself upright, pressing arms against the floor.
“Thank you… but… it’s not necessary,” she murmured.
The sharp pain in her belly had softened, but the room remained bone-chilling from the night’s lingering cold.
She had expected at least one sign of concern from Lucien—he would have smelled her scent missing from the den, or come searching. But clearly, she had overestimated him again.
She remembered vividly how, the last time Tahlia had vanished for a mere ten minutes, Lucien had nearly raised an alarm across the pack.
Yet now, after a full night of silence, he had not lifted a claw to check on his mate.
So this is what love looks like, Sylvara thought bitterly, and this… this is what indifference feels like.
She steadied herself against the wall and moved, slow step by slow step, toward the exit, finally catching a carriage to the outskirts of the city.
In the warmth of the vehicle, she retrieved her comm-amulet and checked the messages. Not a single one from Lucien.
Instead, Red’s words burned across the screen:
[Sylvara, I can’t wait the full moon. One week. I’m coming to claim you in a week.]
第5章
When Sylvara glimpsed Red’s message, a flicker of warmth surged through her chest, chasing away some of the cold that had settled there.
She tapped a quick reply: [Okay.]
Yes, she thought, a full moon’s wait is far too long. One week—that’s all I need.
In just seven days, she would vanish from the Thorne den for good, severing every tie to Lucien and the pain he had caused.
As soon as she stepped back into the den, her nostrils caught the scent of arrogance before her eyes could register it. Tahlia lounged on the couch, draped in silk that belonged to Sylvara herself.
Her nightgown.
The door’s creak drew Tahlia’s gaze, and she let out a derisive smirk. “Back so soon? You look like a wolf barely dragged from the hunt.”
She rose gracefully, her steps deliberate, and tilted Sylvara’s chin with mocking precision. “Tsk. That face—pale as moonlight. Anyone would think you’d been mauled in the forest.”
Leaning closer, she bared her chest, the marks of last night on display like badges of conquest. “See these? All Mondy’s doing. Last night… was… unforgettable.”
Her words grew bolder, sliding into a mocking hiss beside Sylvara’s ear. “He said it himself—he only feels like an alpha with me. You? You lie there like a sleeping wolf, dull and lifeless.”
Sylvara’s eyes darkened to molten obsidian. Her palm shot out, striking Tahlia across the face with precision and force.
“Tahlia,” she snapped, teeth clenched, “know your place. I am still Lucien’s mate. You are… merely the interloper.
“Push me further, and I’ll expose you. Let the pack know you’re nothing more than a servant’s daughter, scheming to claim another wolf’s mate.”
Tahlia, however, had dug her own grave. She was far too eager to antagonize.
Just as she opened her mouth to strike back, her eyes widened in terror at the sight of Lucien advancing toward them. Her knees buckled, and she stumbled to the floor.
“Avy! I… I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have returned! I’ll leave tonight! I’ll die if it means I’m no longer in your way!” Tahlia whimpered.
Before Sylvara could respond, Tahlia surged forward, sprinting toward a stone pillar. Lucien intercepted her just in time, catching her in his arms.
“Yannie,” he barked, firm as a wolf’s growl, “I invited you here. If anyone has an issue with you, they answer to me!”
Sylvara’s lips curved into a bitter, almost hollow smile.
Lucien, still holding Tahlia, spun and commanded sharply, “Sylvara! Apologize to her—now!”
“I did nothing wrong,” Sylvara said, her voice steady, even as her chest burned. “I have nothing to apologize for. Lucien… aren’t you at least curious where I was last night?”
He scowled, fangs catching the dim light. “Did you—”
“I said, don’t you care—” she began.
“I don’t care where you prowled last night!” he snapped, cutting her off. “But you will not hurt Yannie! Fail to apologize this instant, and you’ll be suspended from your duties—until you admit your mistake!”
In his eyes, Sylvara was just a diligent subordinate. Suspension was supposed to sting. What he didn’t know was that she had never served for ambition—her work was a silent offering so that Lucien’s path remained untroubled.
Her gaze, weary but unwavering, pressed into him. For a moment, his chest tightened with guilt, but he turned away, taking Tahlia with him.
Before leaving, he ordered the pack servant, “Do not let her eat until she admits she’s wrong.”
Sylvara watched his retreating figure, silent tears tracing paths down her cheeks.
This was the wolf she had loved for seven long years. After this… she would never love him again.
For days, she remained locked within the villa’s enchanted walls. Three times each sun, the servant asked if she had realized her “error.” Sylvara never replied, only staring outward at the moonlit forest.
She counted down the days. Five more moons, and she would vanish from this den forever.
On the balcony swing, her comm-amulet buzzed incessantly. Every ping, a message from Tahlia.
Finally, on the day Sylvara intended to leave, another venomous note arrived:
*[Bitch, you couldn’t win over our mothers, and you can’t win over a mate. One word from me, and Mondy won’t come near you for a moon.] *
And she proved it.
For two full nights, Lucien did not return. Tahlia, however, sent proof of her conquest: videos of her entwined with Lucien under the silver glow of the moon; photos of him tending to her like a devoted alpha; intimate clips that burned with betrayal.
Once, Sylvara might have wept. But now… nothing. A wolf so shallow was better left behind.
On the fourth night, she still had not “admitted mistakes,” and the servant withheld food. She survived on water alone.
That evening, she wandered the frost-kissed garden, body weak from hunger. A golden wolfhound barreled into her, knocking her down. Normally manageable, but her frail state made her fall with force.
Pain erupted in her belly, sharp and unyielding. Blood soaked her legs. She knew immediately.
Two moons prior, during one of the rare moments of intimacy with Lucien, they had not protected themselves. Now, her womb rebelled, fire searing through her core. She sank to her knees, teeth gritted, and pleaded for the guards’ help.
The driver seized her trembling form and dashed toward the healers’ den—but the paths were barred.
“Mistress,” the driver stammered, “today is Tahlia’s birth celebration. Alpha Lucien closed the forest roads for her. We… cannot pass.”
Outside, her blood soaked her garments. Above, fireworks erupted, scattering like sparks over the dark canopy. All for Tahlia. All for Lucien’s displayed devotion.
Sylvara closed her eyes.
Summoning every ounce of strength, she ripped her silver wedding band from her finger and hurled it from the balcony.
Her mate, her marriage, the life she had once cherished—she wanted none of it anymore.
第6章
When Sylvara finally blinked her eyes open, she found herself in the sterile glow of the healer’s den. The scent of herbs and antiseptics filled the air, mingling with the faint tang of blood still clinging to her clothes.
The lead healer looked down at her with a mixture of regret and sorrow. “Mistress,” he said softly, “you haven’t taken sustenance in several days. Your body could not carry the pup any longer. I’m afraid… the little life inside you has left us. I am truly sorry.”
Instinctively, Sylvara’s hand went to her lower belly. The tiny heartbeat, the fragile spark of life she had carried—gone.
Tears fell quietly down her cheeks, a silent tribute to the soul that had fled. Perhaps the child had sensed the fractures in their parents’ bond, the growing distance in the pack, and decided to leave the world early.
“Your body,” the healer continued gently, “needs time to heal. Where is your mate? He should be here, caring for you.”
Sylvara steadied herself, the edges of her emotions tightening like claws around her chest. “I have no mate,” she replied softly. Then, forcing her voice into a calm mask, she asked, “Healer… how soon can I leave this place?”
She wanted freedom, and the sooner she could escape, the better.
“Three days,” the healer replied without hesitation.
Sylvara nodded. Three moons’ worth of days—just enough for Red to come and take her away. That would be sufficient.
As their conversation continued, the door to the ward suddenly creaked open. Lucien stormed in, chest heaving, fur damp with the chill of the night.
“Why are you here?” he demanded, his amber eyes sharp.
The driver at his side opened his mouth, but Sylvara intervened first, her voice calm and measured. “I hadn’t eaten in days. My body gave out, and I collapsed.”
Tahlia’s voice slipped through the doorway, honeyed with malice. “Avy, it’s not like you grew up in a life of luxury. How did you end up so fragile?”
Lucien’s gaze fell on Sylvara’s pale, trembling form. The anger that had burned in him over the past moons seemed to ebb slightly, replaced by a strange, reluctant concern.
“When did you become so obstinate? Admitting a mistake would not have killed you.
“And if you’ve been unwell, why didn’t you summon me?” His words carried an edge of blame, though tempered by worry.
Sylvara stared at him silently, a frigid smile curling in her heart.
Summon you?
In the past moons, he had devoted himself to Tahlia, keeping her close and lavishing attention on her. He had even withheld nourishment from Sylvara to “teach her a lesson.” To summon him would have been to invite humiliation. What point would there have been?
She let the thought slide, knowing her departure was imminent. A simple, casual answer would suffice.
“You were busy,” she said, voice light as the autumn wind. “I didn’t want to trouble you.”
For the briefest moment, guilt flickered across his features. Perhaps he realized he had pushed too far. Over the next moons, he visited the healer’s den daily, offering ministrations and observing her recovery.
The morning she was cleared to leave, Sylvara spent the hours texting Red under the guise of idle distraction. Lucien noticed her attention fixed on the comm-amulet.
“Avy, who occupies your thoughts so?” he asked, reaching for the device.
Sylvara yanked it back deftly. “Do you truly need to pry into private conversations between women of the pack?”
Her words, sharp and measured, caused him to withdraw. “Enough with that. We depart soon.”
“Mm,” she murmured, her tone noncommittal.
Though he treated her with gentleness during those days, Sylvara knew the kindness was born only of guilt, not love.
Once the healer released her, Lucien escorted her home, then vanished into the night, leaving her alone.
Sylvara entered the study, her fingers shaking slightly as she opened the reinforced safe. She placed the healer’s report—the record of the lost pup—inside with quiet precision.
Then she opened her personal chronicle, scribbling one final entry.
[100th disappointment: The pup is gone.]
She closed the notebook gently, sealing the sorrow within its leather-bound pages.
Divorce papers. A resignation letter. The record of the miscarriage. A hundred heart-wrenching memories. This, she decided, would be her final gift to Lucien on their anniversary.
After gathering her belongings, she packed her suitcase, placed the villa’s keys neatly on the dining table, and erased her paw print from the enchanted lock.
Every trace of her presence in the Thorne den—every echo of her life there—she wiped away completely.