Chapter 1 Chapter 1

At our ten-year mating anniversary banquet, every eye was on me—mocking, bored, waiting for the meltdown. "She won't break the bond. I'll put a million on it.""Make that five.""Ten million says she chickens out again." Breaking the bond with Bruce had basically turned into the pack's favorite sport. Every year, same game. Higher bets. Bigger laughs. Some were hoping I'd finally grow a spine. Most just liked watching me crash and burn. The ones who won hated me. The ones who lost? Hated me more. Then came a voice—low, steady, cutting through the noise: "I'm betting she does it." The room froze. They tried to talk him out of it, like he was throwing money at a lost cause. I followed the noise and caught his profile—sharp jaw, clean-cut. I didn't know him. A bitter smirk tugged at my lips. Figures. Only a stranger believed I'd actually do it. Not that I blamed anyone. I'd cried wolf too many times. For ten years, I'd threatened it. Only now was I serious. I slipped off the mate ring and necklace, calm as ever, and handed them to the she-wolf at his side. Moye. Young. Gorgeous. Bruce's five-year side-chick. "If the ring's tight, get it resized. The gown'll take longer—I'll change and have staff bring it over. Oh, and the house has other mistresses. Got questions? Ask them." Ten years of the mate bond. Every year, Bruce brought home new side-chicks. Different faces. Same story. Lucky him—Alpha of the Darkfang Pack. Rich, untouchable. He could keep a whole damn harem. Some even joked he was channeling the old primal packs—mating like a tribal beast. "Bruce, let's break the bond. Now." I'd said it a hundred times. This was the first time I meant it. He dropped Moye's hand, eyes narrowing like I'd lost it. "What? Playing hard to get again?" I exhaled, calm. "Doesn't matter. You pick the time. I'll be there. Just break it." I turned to walk. His grip locked around my arm. "Celina, you're not going anywhere. That gown—take it off." I frowned. "You want me to undress here?" He snapped, "That gown marks the Luna. You don't deserve it. Strip." My wolf stirred beneath my skin. I went still. He smirked. "What's the problem? Didn't your daddy toss you into my bed, naked and begging? You wanna walk? Fine—walk clean. Otherwise, get down and lick the dirt off Moye's shoes." I just stared at him. He wasn't even hiding it—he wanted to crush whatever dignity I had left. Laughter rolled through the crowd. A few wolves even jeered. Back then, I loved Bruce. He never loved me. His heart was stuck on some childhood sweetheart. To lock in my Luna title, my father had a witch brew a heat potion. One night of forced lust—and the mark was done, the bond sealed. Then he made it public. Bruce had no choice after that. Alpha of the Darkfang Pack? Once the mark was made, the Luna ceremony was automatic. His girl couldn't take it. Drove herself to the border. Rogues found her first. She died slow. Tortured for days. From that moment, he blamed her death on me—and on my father. And he never let it go. Every time he brought a side-chick home, I had to hand him the condoms. Had to watch. Had to feel it through the bond. Ten years of that torture. I hit my limit. "Fine," I said. "I'll take it off."

Chapter 2 Chapter 2

I yanked the straps off without flinching. They slid down, baring the curve of my chest. My underlayer held, but the fabric strained over the swell. The hall was heated, but I felt like ice—shaking, numb. The gown hit the floor. Standing there in just my undergarment, I lifted my chin as tears slid silently down. Someone whispered, "She really did it." The crowd stared, hungry for the wreckage. Their eyes crawled over me without a shred of shame. Bruce wanted this—my public humiliation. I was still his mate, still Luna of the Darkfang Pack. But if he treated me like dirt, why would anyone else hold back? "Do I keep going?" The words burned as they left my throat. His face twisted. No answer—but his eyes flinched. Hesitation. I reached for the strap. Right as it slipped, he yanked off his cloak and threw it over me. "Celina, what kind of shameless Luna are you?" I arched a brow, let out a sharp laugh. "Didn't you tell me to strip?" He had nothing. Just crushed his glass and slammed it to the floor, eyes blazing across the room. "If anyone says a word about tonight—I'll kill you. Get out. Now!" His voice cracked like a whip. The room cleared fast. Except Moye. She clung to his arm, whispering, playing peacemaker. I held his stare, choking back the tears. "Can I leave now?" Ten years. I'd cried enough for him. No more. I was done. Bruce's growl was low, ice-cold. "Celina, enough with the drama. You've made your scene." Pain spiked behind my eyes, but I held steady. "This isn't drama. I'm ending the mate bond—for real." He stepped in, grabbed my chin, forced my eyes to his. "You used a heat potion to trap me into this bond. Now you think you can just walk? Who's paying for your mom's treatments then? You really think I'll let the wolf who got the love of my life killed just walk away?" I looked down. Couldn't take the hate in his eyes. He hated weakness. Hated my father for the potion. Never mattered how many times I said it wasn't me—he never listened. When I didn't speak, he snapped. Rage with nowhere to go. He shoved me to my knees in front of Moye. "You don't wanna lick her shoes? Fine. Wipe the dirt off 'em." My lip bled from how hard I bit it. My shoulders shook. For ten years, I did everything for the side-chicks he brought home. Cooked for them. Washed their clothes. Massaged their backs. Scrubbed their feet. At night, I knelt outside their room, listening to their moans. After, I cleaned their bath and picked up the mess. I was the Luna—but I lived like a servant. Called when needed. Forgotten when not. Out of guilt, I stayed. Took it all. Hoped maybe, somehow, he'd stop hating me. He never did. "Now," Bruce snapped. So I did—again. I wiped Moye's shoe with my bare hand. She blinked, stunned for half a second. Then lifted her foot higher, basking in it. Seeing me fold so easily, he got bored. Shoved me aside and started peeling off her clothes—right in front of me.

Chapter 3 Chapter 3

Moye's dress hit the floor. Her pale, curvy body on full display. Bruce's eyes darkened. He didn't wait—just lunged. His hands gripped her chest, mouth trailing down her neck. What started soft turned rough fast. One hand roamed lower while she arched into him, legs snaking around his waist, grinding against him. "You're so big..." I'd seen it all before. Didn't make it hurt less. The bond made it worse—waves of pain crashing through me, ripping my chest wide open. I bit my lip hard, trying not to scream. I didn't dare blink. Just stared—numb. He always made me watch. If I looked away, he'd make me pay—days without food, no water. They kissed like no one else was there. He lifted her, grinding between her thighs. "Harder, my powerful Alpha..." She wrapped around him, and he grabbed her ass, bouncing her in his arms like she was the only thing that mattered. I reached into the pouch I always carried and pulled out a condom. Handed it to him. He glanced at it—and snapped. "Get that away! I don't need it!" My hand trembled. The condom slipped through my fingers. We'd only had that one night—forced by a potion. After that, even touching me made him sick. Now, as he lowered her, he drove in—hard—breaking through. She cried out, soft and high, head thrown back. He leaned close. "Feel good?" His rhythm turned savage. She moaned, voice shaking. "Yes... so good. I want to carry your pup." Her arms wrapped around his waist. Her chest pressed to his, bouncing with every thrust. "Good. Only you are worthy of carrying my pup," he growled—eyes locked on me. Then came the sneer. "Some she-wolf could strip naked, lay down in front of me, and I'd still be disgusted. Wouldn't even glance." His voice mocked, but his eyes—those eyes—were pure venom. I let out a bitter laugh, clutching my chest, gasping for air. It hurt. Moon, it hurt. Too familiar. Too raw. Every thrust he gave Moye, the pain sharpened—like my skin was being peeled off, cut straight to the bone. I collapsed, shaking, curling into myself on the cold floor. Bruce didn't stop. He never did. He used the bond to torture me. Every time, the pain knocked me out. This time was no different. *** When I came to, night had fallen. I checked my phone. A message from the hospital flashed on the screen: [Come quickly. Your father fell into the silver mine. He's in critical condition.] My heart stopped. I bolted to the door—but it was locked. Bruce always locked me in when he was pissed. I slammed my fist against the door. "Bruce! Open up! I need to go!" Footsteps. Slow. Irritated. He showed up, face like stone. "What?""My father's in surgery. He fell into the silver mine," I said fast. He just stood there. I dropped my voice, begging. "Please. Let me see him. He's dying."