Tears slid down my cheeks as I clung, half-conscious, to the stranger’s tunic.
“Re… venge…” I whispered, the word barely formed.
When my eyes opened again, all I saw was white. Too bright. Too quiet.
A healer’s cavern.
I turned my head slowly, wincing at the ache across my body, and reached for the message stone beside my bed. A rune-lit message from Evan waited, sent during the night.
I’ve matters to attend tomorrow. Go fit your bridal gown on your own. The bonding ceremony is near, so stop throwing tantrums. Enter the Stoneclaw line with some dignity.
I stared at the glowing runes, emotionless, then brushed my thumb across them, erasing the message.
But just beneath it, another glow caught my eye. A post on the clan’s spirit board.
Evan had taken Sarah on a private skybeast flight to watch the northern lights near the ice fields.
In the green glow of the aurora, their silhouettes leaned close together. Matching moon-forged rings gleamed on their fingers.
The caption carved beneath it pierced like ice.
He told me I am the only one for him. He promised to protect me from every cruelty in this world. How could I ever let go?
Below it, a cutesy avatar with a cartoon wolf couple commented:
And no matter how far you run, I’ll find you. I’ll bind you to my side forever. Don’t even try to escape, silly girl.
I didn’t need to check who wrote it. I knew the tone. That possessive style of speech.
It was Evan.
I remembered the day I once asked him to carve matching avatars with me on the clan board.
He rolled his eyes and snapped, “Are you twelve? I’m busy. Leave.”
And yet I had once dreamed of stargazing with him on the northern cliffs. I’d planned every detail. He said he was too busy.
Too busy, always too busy.
Now I understood. He wasn’t incapable of romance. He simply chose not to be romantic with me.
My throat tightened as I set the stone aside.
That was when I noticed the envelope lying quietly on the bedside table.
Inside was a travel parchleaf. Departure in two days.
And a small note:
You’re welcome. Hope the gift suits you. For your wedding. —V.
I knew then. The man who carried me to the healer’s cavern last night was Victor Keane, sworn enemy of Evan Marks.
I sent him a quiet thank-you rune and checked myself out soon after.
Then came a call from the bridal weaver. The gown my mother had ordered had been tailored, ready for pick-up.
The last gift she left me.
I had to retrieve it.
But when I entered the weaving hall, I froze.
Sarah stood there, twirling in my gown.
“Annalise… you came,” she said with a sugary smile, spinning in front of the polished silver mirror. “I had to make sure it fits. Trying to help you out.”
She tugged the neckline lower, revealing fresh red bite marks across her collarbone, her tone mockingly bashful.
“Oh dear, Evan is just so… passionate. I told him to be gentle.”
I stared at her performance, cold and silent.
“You really did inherit your mother’s talent for stealing other wolves’ mates.”
Her smile twitched, then sharpened.
“Oh? Didn’t you hear? I’m carrying Evan’s pup.”
“And your bonding license?” She laughed. “It’s fake.”
She held up her spirit stone. A recording flickered: a dim feasting den, Sarah on Evan’s lap. He was tipsy, kissing her lazily.
“Bear the child safely,” he murmured. “When he is born, I’ll gift him the Stoneclaw holdings.”
Sarah’s voice purred, “But… what about my sister?”
Evan chuckled. “I never married her. I’ve been slipping herbs into her morning milk to keep her barren. I’ll just say we adopted.”
It was like lightning struck me. My vision spun.
So that was it.
Love had died long ago. I was just the last fool who didn’t notice.
I dragged in a breath, straightened, and forced out a calm smile.
“Well, congratulations. Becoming the next Luna of Stoneclaw is within reach.”
“But that gown is mine. Take it off,” I said coldly.
I lunged for the skirt, but before I could touch her, one of her guards—appointed by Evan—kicked me hard.
The force sent me sprawling. Pain tore through my abdomen, twisting like something had been shoved out of place.
Sarah lifted a pair of shears from a nearby table. Her voice grew gleeful as she traced the blade along the silk.
“Evan said no matter what I do, he will clean up my mess.”
The shears sliced through delicate lace. Through the soft gleam of moon-woven silk. With each cut, she destroyed the last gift my mother ever gave me.
I lay there watching the pieces fall like dying snowflakes.
Even my rage felt numb under the crushing weight of everything.
Sarah strutted away, leaving shredded ruin behind her.
I dragged myself back to what used to be my den.
Once inside, I tore open every chest and shelf, pulling out every gift Evan had ever given—jewels, fine hides, carved keepsakes.
One by one, I tossed them into the refuse bin.
Behind me, I heard footsteps.
Familiar ones.
Human. Heavy. And unmistakably his.
