“What nonsense are you spouting?” Emric snarled. “Corinne and I aren’t what you’re imagining. She wanted a cub and I merely lent my bloodline to help her.”
I wiped my swollen, burning eyes and let out a bitter laugh. “Is that so? Since when did betrayal gain such a sacred-sounding excuse?”
As the words left my mouth, I lifted my gaze—and there they were. Emric and Corinne walking side by side down the healer hall’s moonlit corridor.
The moment he saw me, his expression darkened. He strode over, lifting his communicator as if it were a weapon.
“What are you doing here? Following us now?”
Leaning on my crutch, I answered evenly, “My foot was injured and I nearly collapsed from hunger. I came to see the healers.”
Corinne scoffed softly. “Really, Amarise? You’ve always acted unbreakable. Since when did you become so delicate, falling ill over every little thing?”
Emric hesitated. His anger faltered as his gaze lingered on my pale lips and unsteady stance. His voice softened.
“What happened to your foot? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I looked at him in silence, a cold curve at the corner of my mouth.
Why did it hurt? Even now, he believed it was an act.
He had disappeared for an entire week, celebrating with his chosen she-wolf. When he returned and saw me limping with a crutch, he sneered, saying I was improving at pretending pain to win sympathy.
For Corinne’s sake, he had thrown me into the underground chamber to “learn my place.” I could already picture the humiliation waiting there.
But since I was leaving anyway, there was nothing left to explain.
I bit my lip and said nothing.
Something finally shifted in him. Unease flickered across his face. He grabbed my hand, panic seeping into his voice.
“Corinne and I only underwent a healer’s ritual, I swear. She and the cub won’t affect our mate bond. Tomorrow is our thirtieth bond anniversary. I’ve prepared something special for you.”
Watching him cling to words he thought would bind me again, I nearly laughed.
“I’ve prepared a surprise for you too.”
Perhaps driven by guilt, he personally arranged my admission and even went out to buy spirit fruit. A rare sight.
My son and his mate arrived soon after, their expressions stiff as they tried to smooth things over.
“Dad and Aunt Corinne aren’t what you think.”
“Mom, they ended things decades ago. They’re just pack allies now.”
“Allies who share blood for conception,” I replied calmly. “I’m tired. If that’s all, you may leave.”
They froze. I had always spoken gently. My cold tone struck them hard.
Just then, my communicator vibrated.
[I’ll come get you tonight. Be ready. If not, I’ll carry you away myself.]
I typed back without hesitation. [Be on time.]
Emric entered with a bag of fruit, his eyes flicking to my screen. “Who are you talking to?” he asked softly.
“The bank rune,” I replied. “Time to settle an account.”
He chuckled. “If you need resources, just ask. I’ve never let you lack anything.”
True. Even chained wolves were fed enough to stay alive.
That day, Emric played the devoted Alpha mate—pouring tea, peeling fruit, ordering meals.
But I knew the truth. It wasn’t affection. It was guilt.
As night fell, his communicator rang.
He glanced at it, locked the screen and slipped it away. Then he bent down, kissed my forehead and murmured, “An urgent matter in the territory. I’ll return soon. Rest.”
Minutes after he hurried away, a message flashed onto my screen.
[Don’t get arrogant, bitch. One call from me and he already chose not to come back tonight.]
Attached was a photo—Emric kneeling on the ground, reverently pressing his lips to her swollen belly.
I turned off the communicator, opened the cabinet, took out my suitcase and walked out of the healer hall.
A black rune-carriage waited beneath the streetlamp. The window slid down, revealing the calm, handsome face of a mature Alpha.
Once inside, I opened my moon-net account and carefully selected several images.
One of the mating ring and the bond-severance decree locked in the safe.
One of my healer records after the carriage accident.
One of them entwined in heat at an inn while I clung to life.
And finally, a photo of my notebook, where I had silently recorded sixty-six moments of betrayal.
When the moon crossed its highest point, I pressed send and tagged Emric.
[After the 66th disappointment, I am finally free. Enjoy your thirtieth bond anniversary gift. Happy severance.]
