Gemma POV
The human clinic I visited that morning smelled of harsh bleach and sterile indifference. The human doctor had handed me a bottle of prescription painkillers with a grim warning that my vital signs were inexplicably fading. The pills were a temporary dam against a breaking flood, but they were the only reason I was currently sitting upright in Le Coucou.
The high-end French restaurant was a symphony of soft lighting, clinking crystal, and the rich scent of browned butter and expensive perfumes. I sat alone at a corner table, my hands wrapped around a glass of hot water with lemon, trying to soothe the violent, twisting agony in my stomach.
"Gemma! So sorry I'm late."
Aubree Shaw slid into the booth opposite me, a vision in designer silk, her sweet smile not quite reaching her calculating eyes. She didn't wait for my response before waving over a waiter. "We'll have the Grand Seafood Tower. And champagne."
"I can't eat seafood right now, Aubree," I said, my voice tight as another wave of nausea hit me. "I'm sick."
"Oh, don't be a spoilsport," she cooed, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "It's a celebration. Besides, I brought a surprise."
The air in the restaurant suddenly grew heavy. The overwhelming scent of cedarwood and a raging snowstorm hit my senses before I even saw him. Dallas. My inner wolf whimpered, shrinking back as the Bond-Rejection Sickness flared, burning through the human painkillers like paper.
Dallas pulled up a chair next to Aubree, his massive frame dwarfing the delicate furniture. He didn't look at me with concern; his ice-blue eyes were hard, assessing me like a disappointing asset. He truly believed my pale skin and trembling hands were just a pathetic, dramatic act for attention.
The waiter arrived, placing a massive, three-tiered silver tower of crushed ice, raw oysters, clams, and sashimi between us. The raw, briny smell hit my nose, and my stomach violently lurched. I pressed a hand to my mouth, swallowing down the bile.
"Eat," Dallas ordered, his voice a low rumble.
"Dallas, I can't," I gasped, my vision swimming. "The bond... my body is rejecting—"
*"Stop being so dramatic and eat, Gemma,"* his voice dropped into the terrifying, vibrating frequency of an Alpha's Command.
The command slammed into my chest, a physical weight forcing my jaw to tremble, demanding my submission. Aubree smirked, picking up a silver fork. She speared a raw, glistening oyster and held it out toward my mouth, her posture dripping with the triumph of a mistress parading her victory.
"Come on, Luna," Aubree mocked softly. "Prove to your Alpha you aren't just throwing a tantrum."
I looked at the oyster. I looked at Aubree's smug face. And then I looked at Dallas, the man the Moon Goddess had supposedly made for me, who was perfectly content to watch me be publicly humiliated and physically tortured just to feed his ego.
Something inside me—something fragile and desperate—finally snapped. The fear of his threats regarding my grandfather evaporated, replaced by a cold, absolute clarity. If I stayed, I would die.
I slowly reached into my designer handbag. My fingers bypassed the useless painkillers and closed around a folded piece of heavy parchment paper.
I pulled it out and slammed it directly onto the top tier of the seafood tower.
The paper landed on the crushed ice, right next to the oysters. The icy water immediately began to seep into the edges, but the bold, black ink remained perfectly legible.
Dallas's eyes dropped to the paper. His jaw went slack.
I stood up, my legs suddenly steady, fueled by pure, unadulterated adrenaline. I looked dead into his ice-blue eyes and spoke the sacred words loud enough for the surrounding tables to hear.
"I, Gemma Hart, reject you, Dallas Blackwood, as my mate."
A deafening silence fell over the restaurant. The invisible tether between our souls violently snapped, sending a shockwave of agonizing pain through my chest, but it was a pain of liberation.
Dallas let out a choked, guttural sound, his eyes wide with a mixture of absolute shock and rising, explosive fury. His inner wolf clawed at the surface, his canines elongating.
I didn't wait for his roar. I turned my gaze to Aubree, who was staring at the document in stunned silence.
"Have him sign it," I told her, my voice devoid of any emotion. "Consider it my birthday gift to him."
I turned on my heel and walked out of the restaurant. The sound of Dallas's furious, earth-shattering roar echoed behind me, rattling the crystal glasses, but I didn't look back. I had a narrow window before he came after me, and I needed to get to the Blackwood Global Tower immediately to erase the last piece of myself I had left in his empire.
