“Mom… I don’t want to go through with the bonding ceremony anymore.”
On the night before her formal mate-bonding, Liora Hart pressed her phone to her ear and reached out to her mother, who was far beyond the sea, residing in another pack’s territory overseas.
There was a brief silence on the other end. Her mother clearly hadn’t expected those words—but she didn’t interrogate her, didn’t demand explanations. She had raised Liora herself. She understood that her daughter would never speak so lightly unless her heart had already been torn open.
Her voice, when it came, was steady and gentle, grounding as ever. “That’s fine,” she said softly. “I’m not getting any younger, and the pack affairs were always meant to fall to you eventually. Come back sooner, then. It’ll give you time to settle in and find your footing.”
Liora gave a faint chuckle in response, forcing the sound past the tight knot in her throat. But no matter how hard she tried, her gaze drifted toward the ceremonial den prepared for her union.
Moonlight spilled through the narrow window slats, casting pale shadows along the stone floor. Against the dim glow, she saw two figures tangled together—one unmistakably her chosen mate, the other her stepsister.
She struggled to steady her breathing, fought to keep her composure intact, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her all the same, cracking with the ghost of a sob.
Her mother let out a quiet sigh, the weight of old wounds evident in it. “I truly believed he would be better,” she murmured. “I never thought he’d repeat the same mistakes your father and I made. But it’s alright, Liora. You’re still young. I’ll be waiting for you. You’re not alone.”
After exchanging a few more subdued words, they ended the call.
The moment the line went dead, Liora’s strength gave out. She sank down onto the gravel at the side of the road, the silence pressing in on her until it felt suffocating. The emotions she had forced down finally broke free, and her sobs echoed helplessly into the still night.
Cold moonlight bathed her in silver, illuminating her trembling form and making the ache in her chest feel sharper, deeper—almost unbearable.
—
Before this night, Liora had truly believed Kaelen was different.
They had grown up within the same pack lands, running through forests together as children, their bond deepening naturally over time. When they turned eighteen, fate itself had acknowledged them, sealing their connection in the eyes of the pack.
Kaelen Drake came from a respected lineage known for wisdom and scholarship. He carried himself with a calm elegance that made him stand out, even among alphas. As the future head of the Drake family, he possessed a maturity far beyond his years, composed and refined in every setting.
In the ten years they’d been together, they had never once raised their voices at each other. Kaelen was patient with Liora, indulgent to the point of spoiling her, always watching over her like a dependable older wolf she could lean on without fear.
He expressed his affection through actions rather than words—entire vehicles filled with rare moon-bloom bouquets, precious gems nestled in velvet-lined boxes, and a readiness to fulfill her every whim without hesitation.
To outsiders, his quiet devotion was proof of a love so deep it didn’t need to be loudly proclaimed. Within the pack, they were seen as an ideal pair—admired, envied, and spoken of with reverence.
Yet on the very night meant to celebrate her future, everything she had dreamed of shattered.
At their engagement feast, Kaelen had brought someone Liora never wanted to see again—her stepsister, Marcella Lincoln.
The instant Marcella appeared, memories Liora had buried clawed their way back to the surface. She remembered the years of cruelty Marcella and her mother had inflicted, the relentless torment that had driven Liora’s own mother to the brink of despair.
Every insult, every humiliation resurfaced vividly, as if no time had passed at all. The scars she carried from those years throbbed anew.
For once, Liora lost control.
Her normally gentle tone sharpened as she demanded Marcella leave. But Marcella only smirked, invoking her mother’s name with deliberate malice, striking precisely where it hurt most.
The argument escalated rapidly, tearing through the celebration until the once-glorious engagement feast dissolved into chaos.
Instinctively, Liora turned to Kaelen, expecting him to stand beside her.
Instead, his palm came down hard against her cheek.
The sound rang through the hall.
“Go home and sleep it off if you’ve been drinking,” he snapped coldly. “Stop embarrassing yourself. Look at you—how could you ever think you were fit to become the future luna of this family?”
The sting of his words cut far deeper than the blow. And before she could recover, her father added his own condemnation.
“Your sister has just returned, and this is how you welcome her?” he barked. “Have you no shame as the elder one? If your Aunt Aurelia is offended by this, don’t expect my forgiveness!”
Surrounded by silence and staring eyes, Liora endured their scolding alone. Each accusation felt like a blade, slicing away the last of her dignity.
Then Kaelen turned away from her entirely, guiding Marcella out without so much as a backward glance.
Left standing amid hushed whispers and thinly veiled judgment, Liora felt the humiliation sink into her bones. Her face burned fiercely—whether from the alcohol or the shame, she couldn’t tell.
She said nothing. She simply turned and ran.
The night swallowed her as she fled the pack grounds, her footsteps echoing with desperation. No cabs passed by, no help came. She wandered the empty streets for hours, the cold wind biting into her skin and leaving her head throbbing.
By the time she finally staggered back to Belmont Villa, exhaustion clung to her like a second skin—and the life she thought she had was already gone.
