Chapter 1 Chapter 1

Every eye in the room landed on me. Even the nightclub girl—barely inside the doorway—giggled behind her hand, following the lead of everyone else. "Place your bets! I say she'll regret it before she even gets to the door.""A thousand moonstones say she doesn't go through with it!""I'll call three hundred on her staying." Wagers on my bond-severance had become a tired tradition at every bonding anniversary. Some hated me when they lost their bets. The ones who won? They didn't like me much either. I let out a soft laugh and shook my head. Inwardly, I cursed myself—stupid and stubborn —for not leaving Shawn long ago and for staying until today. Then, from somewhere within the crowd, a voice rose—low, magnetic, and quiet as dusk. "I'll bet on bond-severance." It wasn't loud. The rest turned toward the sound, murmuring disapproval, some urging him not to waste his treasure. I scanned the room, trying to find the speaker, but whoever it was had already vanished into the sea of faces. "Shawn," I said, voice calm, "I'll send the bond-severance agreement to your Alpha Bureau. Make sure you sign it as soon." I'd said "bond-severance" 365 times before. But it was the first time I mentioned an actual agreement. Shawn straightened, startled, the cigar between his fingers dropping soundlessly to the floor. I ignored it. Instead, I crouched down, unstrapped my boots, and placed them carefully at the feet of the human girl. Her name was Shelly, in her early twenties, young and pretty. "This pair of boots bite a little," I said quietly. "But you'll get used to them.""The dress and jewelry Shawn mentioned—Gwen, the servant will bring them to you shortly.""There were seven others before you. Just ask them if you're confused about anything. They all live on the third floor. Your room is the last one to the left." Seven years bonded to Shawn. Seven girls before Shelly. Enough to form an Alpha harem in this den. The den was filled with human girls—tall, short, curvy, slim, shy, wild. Every kind you could imagine. But I won't be one of them anymore. I can't, for good. I smoothed the invisible creases from the hem of my dress, stood up, and turned toward the door—barefoot, unbowed, and expressionless. But a force yanked me back hard before I could reach it. "Clara," Shawn growled, "if you're going to leave, at least leave whatever I bought for you. Is there a single thing on you that's not a gift from me?" I froze, the soles of my feet suddenly raw against the cold stairs. Even my breathing trembled. Inside me, my wolf whimpered—hurt, humiliated, and desperate. She couldn’t bring herself to accept the truth. "You want me to undress?" I asked, voice hollow. Shawn raised an eyebrow, his gaze cutting straight through me. "Back when your pack fell under the rogue attack," he said, his voice dripping with cruelty, "wasn't it your mother who stripped you naked and stuffed you into my bed?""How you came here—as you know how—that's how you'll leave.""Or," he added with a sneer, "have you changed your mind again? If so, I'll forgive you. Just kneel and wash Shelly's feet." The room erupted into laughter—mocking, roaring, cruel. Back when everything in my world fell apart, Shawn and I had only just started dating each other. Rogues attacked. My father was wounded by a silver dagger—unconscious since then, his organs and limbs ruined beyond repair. My mother, desperate to make Shawn take our side, had poured us both glasses of Charmroot wine. A dangerous herb. It mimicked the mate bond, forcing wolves to feel something that wasn't truly there. Shawn marked me that night under its influence. And my mother made sure every pack knew. That night sealed my fate. And ended whatever love Shawn and I might have had. We'd been pulled to each other once naturally—young, innocent, hopeful. But after the wine, it was all gone. He resented me for the trickery so from then on he brought home the 1st human girl on the night of our bonding ceremony. Right in front of me, he touched her, kissed her, and took her to our bed, humiliating me. I was forced to listen, to help when asked, and then to clean up the aftermath like a maid. For seven years, I endured this. Seven years of kneeling. No more. If undressing the things he bought me could strip away the last remnants of my humiliation—then I would do it. "I'll take off everything you send me," I said, voice steady, hand already reaching for the buttons.

Chapter 2 Chapter 2

Before anyone could react, I had already begun undoing the buttons of my coat. It was the coldest stretch of winter. My coat was thick and warm, shielding me from the icy wind howling outside. I stood by the door, where the wind still crept in—sharp, whistling beneath my dress and clawing at my skin. Goosebumps rose on my arms and shoulders. I reached behind me and unfastened the clasp of my evening gown. The silk slid down, whispering against my body until the curve of my back and most of my shoulder were bare. Gasps scattered through the room. "Oh my God—" A few of the more timid ones covered their eyes. The male wolves didn't. They watched. Except Shawn. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were dark, darker than I'd ever seen. His lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line, and the cigar between his fingers trembled. The gown slid lower. The cigarette burned his fingers before he noticed. He flinched, dropping it, and in the next second, he stripped off his suit jacket and rushed forward, wrapping it around my body. "Clara, you really are asking for trouble!" His voice cracked—not loud, but sharp enough to silence the room. "Close your eyes! And if any of you breathe a word of what you saw today to the pack—I swear, you won’t leave here alive!""Get out. Now." Shawn rarely lost his temper. But tonight, he did. The guests left quickly and quietly—old acquaintances who understood when to disappear. Even the seven human girls he'd brought into this den over the years had retreated upstairs. Only Shelly remained, standing beside the shattered silence. I tilted my head up, wrapped in his coat, and met Shawn's eyes. "Are you satisfied?" I asked. "Can you let me go now?" Tears were brimming—but I wouldn't let them fall. Not anymore. I had cried enough for Shawn. I had dried up entire oceans for him. "Clara," he sneered, "stop this pathetic act of fake indifference. It makes me sick." He still didn't believe me. Still thought this was a performance. Still thought I was here for him. "Shawn," I said, voice steady, "this time, I really want a bond-severance." He laughed. Laughed like I'd told him a joke with no punchline. Then he grabbed the back of my neck and bent me forward, the pressure making my knees buckle. His wolf was way stronger than mine. "Do you dare sever the bond with me?" he whispered. "Can you afford your father's healing fees without me? Or your mother's debt bill?""Clara, your mother will be the first to kneel and beg me not to let you go." His voice was venom wrapped in silk. He hated her for drugging him. He hated me for standing beside my mother. And most of all—he hated that he had once wanted me. "Even if she hadn't drugged me," he spat, "I would have bonded you. I would have helped you.""But she forced my hand. And you—you let her. You destroyed everything." I didn't speak. There was nothing I could say that would change his mind. He would never believe me. Not in this life, maybe not in the next. His grip tightened. He shoved me toward Shelly, pushing me to my knees. "Wash her feet," he snapped. " You're good at it. You've done this for seven years." And I had. For seven years, I'd not only taken care of Shawn—I'd tended to the girls he brought home. I had taught them, served them, cleaned up after them, helped them dress, and even helped Shawn undress them. Things I should never have done. Things I can never forgive myself for. But I only want to end it now. Cleanly. So I did as he said. I knelt. I took Shelly's foot in my hand and immersed them in warm water. So obedient, it stole the satisfaction from him. He scowled. Grabbed my wrist. Dragged me into his bedroom. Then, he tore Shelly's dress off in front of me. I'd seen this scene thousands of times. Sometimes, Shawn even asked me to stay. To teach. To pass the tools. I handed some tools to him—a reflex under repeating similar circumstances. He slapped it away. "We don't need those tonight." My hand trembled. I took it back. He didn't stop. But this time… he looked at me. For the first time in a long while, he looked at me. I didn't return the gaze. I didn't need to. There was nothing left in my eyes for him to find. He shoved me into the bathroom and locked the door angrily. The wind howled outside. Snow beat against the glass. Muffled sounds of movement and laughter echoed through the walls. I sat on the cold tile floor and listened. My arms wrapped around my knees, the tiles biting into my skin. The walls felt too close, like they were listening—like they knew. The light above flickered weakly. I didn’t look up. Every creak of the bedframe on the other side of the wall struck like a blade. Every breathless laugh, every moan, carved deeper than the last. And still… I didn’t cry. I had cried the first time. The second. Maybe the third. But not tonight. There was nothing left in me but silence. He was supposed to be my mate. The one who protected me. The one I trusted before everything fell apart. Now he was in there—with her—while I sat alone in the dark, not even angry anymore. Just… hollow. My wolf curled up inside me, wounded and quiet. She didn’t snarl, nor howl. She just lay there, as tired as I was. I wasn’t shocked. Not really. Not after all these years. But something inside me still shattered with every sound that slipped through the door. I used to fight. I used to beg. I used to hope. Now I just sat still, like standing in a blizzard, knowing the cold would take me eventually—and maybe that was easier than trying to stay warm. I stayed there all night, listening. A sharp trill of my phone shattered my numbness. "Miss Clara? Your mother has been attacked by some wild wolves. She's in critical condition. Please come to the hospital immediately." My heart dropped into my stomach. "Shawn!" I pounded on the door, hands shaking. He opened it slowly, still shirtless. Kiss marks on his neck. Shelly draped over him like jewelry. "What is it?" he asked lazily. "My mother's in the hospital. Please… take me there. Please." I dropped to my knees, begging. Tears spilled freely now, uninvited but unstoppable. Shelly scoffed. "Seriously? At 3 a.m.? In a snowstorm? You expect us to believe that?" She gestured out the window, toward the black sky and the thick snow still falling. Shawn smirked. Didn't even look me in the eye. "Clara, you're even lying about this?" He leaned in close. "Or are our voices out there making you jealous again?" Then he slammed the door in my face. I screamed, begging him to save my mother—because deep down, I knew she was going to die. My wolf sensed it. She was howling in agony, scratching at the door until her claws bled. So I did the only thing I could—I shifted. My hands turned into paws. I smashed the bathroom window with all the strength I had left and climbed out into the snow. Shards of glass tore into me. Blood spilled hot against the cold. I ran. There was no taxi at that time, just red blood, cold wind and white snow. A trail of crimson followed me through the snow. Then— Two sharp beeps. A black limousine pulled up beside me. The back window rolled down. And that voice again— Low, magnetic, and unmistakably calm amidst the storm: "Get in."

Chapter 3 Chapter 3

Inside the car it was dim and spacious, the hum of the engine low beneath us. The square-shouldered male wolf, as I could sniff, in the driver's seat didn't look back once. I thanked him quietly—once, then again. He said nothing. Only when I reached for the door did his voice break the silence, deep and magnetic as ever, like the quiet pull of a tide beneath ice. "Clara," he said, "besides Shawn, you have other options." There was a pause. "If you ever think it over, remember to look for me." A gilded business card slipped into my hand. I accepted it with both hands, bowed my head, murmured another thank you—but my mind was already far away. I didn't even glance at the name. I just slipped it into my bag and ran. The hospital lights were harsh and too bright. I stumbled into the emergency room, heart in my throat. Before I could speak, a healer pushed a body past me, hidden beneath a white sheet. "Has her family still not arrived?""She's already dead, and her daughter's nowhere in sight. What a good daughter." Their words sliced through me like thin, cold blades. I rushed to the gurney, tore back the sheet. Scars crisscrossed the face I had once feared and hated. Her body was covered in jagged bruises, deep lacerations, and shattered silence. My mother. I had resented her every second of these seven years for what she did—for what she forced. I'd dreamed of walking away from her, from everything. I had even once wished the entire pack would die with her. But now, faced with her broken body… all I felt was grief. Crushing, suffocating grief. There was no funeral. No mourners. No eulogies. The pack was down to two—an unconscious, defeated alpha and his only daughter. I sat by my father's bedside until dawn, talking in broken whispers. About her. About myself. About everything I'd buried. I pressed my lips to his hand and choked out a whisper before I left: "Dad… I'm tired." My mother's body had been cremated the next morning and I brought home her ashes in a simple urn. I also brought home the bond-severance agreement I'd had drawn up overnight. When I opened the door, Shawn and the human girls were gathered at the hall, laughing. Shelly was nestled at his side, her hand in his. I walked in barefoot, clutching the urn to my chest. "Sign it." I dropped the bond-severance papers on the table with a cold thud. Shawn looked up slowly, an amused glint in his eye. "So you ran off overnight just for this? Clara, you've really become rebellious." I hugged the urn tighter. "Shawn, I had severed our bond. Let's let each other go.""I don't love you anymore." I would've shouted, accused, and raged in the past. I would've pointed at him, reminded him of all the promises he broke, the way he once claimed to love me. I would've begged for understanding. For hope. I learned to cook his favorite pasta. I decorated the room with all the stars and moonstones he loved, just to make him smile. But girl after girl moved in. And with each one, my hope died a little more. Everything I did became something he used to belittle me. Love turned into a leash. Then— "Luna Clara, what's this?" Shelly bent down and picked something up from the floor. A small business card. She read it aloud, slow and sweet like a pup discovering something forbidden. "Lucius?" The name hit the room like a dropped plate. Shawn's head snapped around. Lucius. The rival who had haunted his pride since they were pups. The opponent he'd never met but couldn't stop hearing about from his parents. Shawn's face darkened. Then his hand was raised. The slap to my face echoed through the room like thunder. My ears rang. I stumbled, the urn slipping from my arms. It shattered. Ash burst across the marble floor like a cloud of smoke. My mother's ashes. I froze. Then dropped to my knees, frantically trying to gather them with trembling hands. But I couldn't. No matter how I tried, I couldn't hold her. Then—coffee splashed across the floor. Shelly laughed. "Oops!" Others followed. Cups tilted. Brown liquid seeped into white dust, turning it into something sticky and foul. Something unrecognizable. "AHHH!" Something inside me broke. My wolf shattered the shackles of reason. My hands morphed. Fangs tore through my gums. With a snarl, she lunged—teeth bared, eyes burning. Shelly dropped to the floor, shrieking, arms over her face, before Shawn react in time. "Shawn… it hurts!" He stepped between us. And just like that—My wolf stopped. She was just a human. My wolf shifted back. She hadn't even noticed. Hadn't seen the claws and the teeth. All her attention was on him. Someone called for an ambulance. Shawn grabbed my wrist and hissed through his teeth: "You're coming with us.""If anything happens to her… you'll die with her."

Chapter 4 Chapter 4

I was forced to take care of Shelly for seven straight days. Only on the eighth did Shawn finally let me go—he said it was my fault. That I'd asked for it. I returned to the room where my father lay, still and silent, and I didn't go out. "So this is where Luna Clara's hiding!" Shelly's voice chirped behind me, sweet and shrill. "Thanks to that blow to the head you gave me, Shawn's been spoiling me ever since." She sauntered into the room with a smug sway, her eyes sweeping over the medical machines like they were decorations. "Is that your dad? Why doesn't he move?" She walked over to him, rattled the oxygen tube like a toy. "What's this for?""Don't touch that!" I shoved her back, my voice sharp. She stumbled, arms flailing as she clutched her head like I'd struck her again. And then she smiled. A slow, cruel smile. She yanked the oxygen tube free. "Do you think Shawn will blame me for this?" She held it in her hand, dangling it like a ribbon, her eyes sparkling with amusement. The heart monitor began to scream. And just then—Shawn walked in. He took in the scene: the loose oxygen line, my father gasping faintly, me standing frozen, fury in my bones. His gaze flicked across us both. Then, slowly, he spoke. "Shelly's still young—she doesn’t know any better. Why did you still go after her?""Your father's wolf was only going to get worse. It's better to end it early.""I'll give your mother some more money later as compensation." The heart monitor flat-lined. One beep, then silence. My body locked in place. Not from shock. But from something quieter. Relief. He was gone. And part of me was finally free. Shawn left the room with Shelly in his arms. I collapsed to my knees beside the bed, my hands trembling. "I'm sorry… Dad. I'm so sorry." But in truth, I didn't know who in the world owed me an apology anymore. With no one to turn to, I took out the gilded business card I had ignored for days and dialed the number. "Lucius… come pick me up tonight." Then I sent my father's body to the same crematorium that had taken my mother. But this time, I brought the urn to a quiet graveyard and left it behind. I couldn't carry their ashes with me anymore. Shawn hadn't come back yet when I returned home. The girls gathered around like vultures circling a carcass. "You're in trouble now.""Shawn's going to punish you hard this time.""Do you still really want that bond-severance?" I didn't answer. I just walked to my bedroom and opened the door. "Pick whatever you like," I said, voice cold. "Everything in here is yours." They rushed in like a tide—grabbing dress, high-heels, jewelry. They left my room, leaving only some photos on the floor. Old photos of Shawn and me—young, foolish, smiling. No one cared for those. I stayed locked in my room for the rest of the day. At dusk, Gwen came on Shawn's orders to check if everything was alright with me. I told her only one thing: "Please forward him my bond-severance agreement." She looked hesitant and questioned. "For real?" Later, when Shawn saw the agreement papers, he tore them up. "This again?"" Clara, you've done this hundreds of times. Haven't you had enough?""Keep her in the cellar. No food or water for her. She can be back in her room once she stops pretending." He didn't believe me. Not when I said I wanted to bond-severance. Not when I said I didn't love him anymore. But the truth was—my feelings had long since withered. Seven years. Seven years of aching hope, of dying dignity. Now, with my mother and father both gone, what else was there to cling to? That night, I climbed out of the window and stepped into Lucius's car. Shawn woke to an unusually quiet den the next morning. No scent of moon-fruit cookies on the table. No fresh silver-bark coffee in his cup. No warm clothes ironed and waiting. He frowned. He climbed the stairs in a rush and threw open the door to my room—only to find it empty. Just silence. And a few photographs were scattered on the floor. Panic bloomed in his chest. "Gwen!" he shouted. "Where's Clara?!" She rushed in, oven mitt still on her hand, startled. She looked around the empty room and shook her head. "I… I don't know." Shawn's face twisted. "I'll call her mother." Gwen blinked. "Alpha… Luna's mother is dead. Remember? The rogue wolf attack. She was cremated." A silence followed. Shawn's mind reeled—flashing back to that moment when I stood clutching the urn, voice trembling. His throat closed. He bent down, picked up one of the photos on the floor. His pupils shook. And for the first time in seven years, something inside him cracked. He had never thought I would really leave. But I had. Then all that remained of him was an empty shell. Shawn sank to the floor, the photo still clutched in his hand. His voice cracked into the silence, eyes locked on my silhouette frozen in the photo. "Clara, you'll come back... won't you?"