For three years of our bonded marriage, every meal in the pack manor had been prepared by my father and me. Even when we were feverish or burning with sickness, Ryke never once stepped into the hearth.
Yet now, he was willing to cook moon-porridge for another she-wolf.
A bitter laugh escaped me, sharp as a blade slicing open my chest.
Just before getting into the carriage, Syrelle suddenly turned back. Her expression was gentle, pure, almost saintly.
“Don’t stain your hands over vile people,” she said softly. “The moon always judges fairly.”
The surrounding crowd was instantly moved.
Someone even spat at me.
More voices hurled curses as they dispersed.
I straightened my back, every injury screaming in protest. But when I thought of my father, I clenched my teeth and ran back to the Moon Healer’s Hall.
Wherever I passed, fingers pointed at me.
Only then did I realize the Moon Court footage had already spread through the crystal network.
Syrelle had become the fragile moon-blessed maiden the entire realm wanted to protect.
My father and I were branded as leeches—schemers, manorins, extortionists.
When I entered the ward, my father lay buried beneath layers of bandages. Both legs were shattered, his breathing unsteady, each breath trembling.
My chest tightened so painfully I nearly collapsed.
The other patients whispered among themselves.
“That kind of wolf is vicious. Injuring himself just to fake a crime.”
“Keep them away. Don’t let them try to extort us too.”
I tried desperately to explain, but no one listened.
My father shook with rage, pounding weakly against the bed.
He had spent his life helping others—yet now he was being humiliated like this, all because he trusted the wrong Alpha.
He looked at me, eyes hollow with despair.
“I treated Ryke like my own son. He’s never suffered injustice in his life. Why would he help others destroy me? What did I do wrong?”
I broke down completely. Tears streamed down my face.
But the mockery didn’t stop.
“Cruel wolves like you deserve this fate.”
More people gathered at the door, their gazes filthy with hatred.
I couldn’t let my father endure another moment. I decided to discharge him immediately.
Then the healer brought the bill.
I froze.
Every fee had been inflated more than tenfold.
The healer lowered his voice. “You offended someone far above you. Some prices must be paid.”
Pack guards closed in, their stance unmistakably predatory.
They had no intention of letting us leave unpaid.
My hands shook as I pulled out my communicator—only to see my balance reduced to nothing.
Ryke had drained it all.
I called him at once.
His voice was lazy, faintly amused. “Syrelle hasn’t been sleeping well. Think of it as compensation for her distress.”
“That’s my father’s healing cost!” I shouted.
“As long as you publicly admit you slandered Syrelle,” Ryke replied calmly, “she’ll give you a generous sum.”
“His legs are already ruined. There’s no point saving him. Admit fault and let him rest comfortably for the rest of his life.”
“When this is over, we can live properly together again.”
Then came a dull thump on his end—followed by intimate, breathless sounds.
I understood instantly.
My communicator slipped from my fingers. I covered my mouth, bile rising violently.
Before the healer could summon guards, the Pack Enforcers arrived.
“Ryke and Syrelle have reported an attempted extortion,” one said coldly. “We’re taking him for questioning.”
My father had just undergone surgery. His pain was unbearable.
I knelt and begged.
The enforcers shook their heads. “Orders from the Alpha Court. Our hands are tied.”
I tried to shield the bed, but they accused me of obstructing pack law.
My father was dragged away, fresh blood soaking through the bandages on his legs.
I chased after them—but at the corridor corner, a black sack was yanked over my head.
Fists and boots rained down on me.
“How dare you touch Alpha Ryke’s woman. Know your place.”
“Don’t kill her. She’s still his mate.”
“Mate? Ryke never cared for her. His heart’s always belonged to Syrelle. If she hadn’t forced the bond, this marriage would’ve never existed.”
I don’t know how long the beating lasted.
When it finally ended, I lay curled on the cold stone floor—motionless, broken, like discarded prey.
