I remember the exact moment my world cracked.

Myron didn’t yell. He didn’t rage. He just placed the divorce papers on the dining table—between the salt and pepper shakers, like it was nothing. Like our bond, sealed under the full moon, was as disposable as last night’s dinner.

‘It’s for the pack,’ he said, not looking at me. ‘You’ll be provided for.’

I didn’t cry. Not then. I just stared at the ring on my finger, still warm from his touch the night before.

Now, weeks later, I stand in the moonlit garden where he first claimed me. The wind carries his scent—pine and power. And then, footsteps.

He’s here.

‘Arrde,’ he breathes, eyes dark with something I can’t name. Regret? Hunger? ‘You’ve been avoiding me.’

I turn slowly, my silk robe slipping off one shoulder. ‘You signed the papers, Alpha. I’m no longer yours to command.’

He steps closer. ‘You’ll always be mine.’

A smile touches my lips—soft, dangerous. ‘Prove it.’