Before Elara could react, Xander yanked her arms with an iron grip, dragging her out into the moon-drenched night.
Panic surged through her as she struggled, but her strength was no match for his Alpha power. He hauled her toward the Oblivion Spiral, a forbidden ride that had claimed countless lives—wolves torn apart, bones shattered, screams swallowed by the wind.
“Once, I saved you from being dishonored by strangers,” Xander’s voice was low, venom lacing each word, “Who knew you would one day use the same vile trick—drugging another to steal her fertility.”
Ignoring her gut-wrenching protests, he fastened the iron restraints over her arms and chest, the runic belts biting into her bruised skin.
His cold eyes gleamed beneath the silver moonlight, hand hovering above the enchanted control sigil like a man ready to deliver a sentence.
Elara turned toward the triplets—their faces she had once kissed a thousand times—now watching her with quiet accusation.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came. The mark of his disbelief was already burned into her.
The ride roared to life with a screech of metal and a surge of arcane power. Wheels screamed, chains rattled and the world spun violently.
“This is what it feels like to betray an Alpha,” Xander’s voice echoed through the night. “To destroy trust. Every bruise—you have earned it.”
The winds lashed at her hair; the cold steel cut into her skin. The longer it went, the more the pain bled into numbness. The moon above blurred into streaks of white.
From the ground, the children watched wide-eyed as their mother’s cries faded into the howl of the storm.
“Brother,” whispered the smallest one, clutching his twin’s sleeve, “Mother looks so sad… Are we wrong?”
“N-No,” the eldest replied, trembling, “Father said Aunt Ravenna knows best, so we must listen to her. She said Mother is wicked, so it must be true. Mother will forgive us later. She always does.”
Xander never shouted. He stood before the sigil board in silence, eyes fixed on the spinning cage of steel and magic, watching as Elara’s body endured wave after wave of agony. The woman he once held as sacred was now a broken shadow of herself, stripped of dignity, of warmth, of name.
When at last the ride groaned to a stop, Elara hung limply against the harness—skin raw, lips bloodied, hair tangled with frost and dust.
The Alpha who once promised her the world stood unmoving. His expression unreadable.
“All your debts,” Elara murmured through blood-stained lips, “I have repaid them now.”
Those were her last words before her world went dark.
Three nights later, Elara awoke to the faint shimmer of dawnlight through gauzy curtains. Her body felt like it had been torn apart and pieced back together by trembling hands.
Blinking through the haze, she saw Xander seated beside her bed—unshaven, eyes rimmed red, exhaustion etched deep into his face.
The moment she stirred, he lunged forward, gripping her hand with desperate relief.
“Elara! You’re awake!” His voice cracked, almost human again. He turned sharply. “Healer! Now!”
Within moments, the pack’s chief healer hurried in with scrolls and elixirs, his brows furrowed.
“Alpha Ashveil,” he began cautiously, “for the Luna to have endured such trauma—her life is no longer sustained by strength alone. Her blood disease—”
“It’s nothing,” Elara interrupted weakly, her voice calm but hollow. “Just exhaustion.”
The healer hesitated, glancing between the two, then bowed and withdrew silently. The room fell into thick, suffocating quiet.
Xander exhaled hard. Without a word, he lifted a tray from the table—soup, honeyed bread, and crushed herbs for pain. He scooped a spoonful and raised it toward her lips.
“Eat,” he said softly. His fingers brushed hers—too gentle, too late. “Tell me… how do you feel?”
Elara didn’t answer. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, gazing somewhere beyond the walls, beyond the moon, as if seeing something Xander could never reach again.
Then, the door creaked open.
Ravenna stepped inside, cloaked in pale silk, her eyes glistening as she dragged a small travel trunk behind her.
“Elara…” she whispered, voice trembling with practiced fragility. “I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for things to go so far.”
Her gaze flickered toward Xander, hopeful. “But, Xander… you promised I could stay. I have nowhere else to go.”
Elara turned her head slowly toward her. Her voice was quiet, detached. “I see. She’s already moved in.”
Xander’s brows knit tightly, his tone low but commanding. “Now isn’t the time, Ravenna. Elara needs rest.”
The faint glint of victory in Ravenna’s eyes vanished instantly. “But—”
“Wait outside.”
Ravenna froze. The steel in his tone left no room for disobedience. Her lips parted, but she swallowed whatever argument she had and left, the door clicking shut behind her.
Only the two of them remained.
Xander lowered himself to his knees beside her bed. His voice was softer now, carrying the faintest edge of regret.
“Elara, for what happened to you that day… if you apologize to Ravenna sincerely, I will let it go.”
