I lifted my chin slowly, the fire in my eyes unyielding.
Across from me, Israel tried to contain his temper. His jaw clenched, his voice tight with warning. “Don’t push me, Camille.”
I used to be terrified of upsetting him. Being one of Alpha Marion’s sons, he carried authority that commanded respect and fear—especially as one of the leading contenders to inherit the Deep Forest Pack. Whenever his brows furrowed, it was instinctual for me to shrink back, to apologize before he even opened his mouth.
But I wasn’t that girl anymore.
It had never just been fear—I used to yield to him because I loved him. Because I believed that bending for the one you loved was strength, not weakness. But that belief had crumbled. My heart was cold now. My wolf, bonded to his, had grown quiet—numb from constant neglect and pain. I hated how easily he could shake me, even now, but more than that, I was exhausted.
Too tired to keep pretending. Too worn out to keep submitting.
But Esther wasn't ready to let it go.
“I don’t want an apology,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet but laced with venom. “She hit me. She should be punished for that.”
Israel glanced at me again, waiting for me to back down. For years, that tactic had worked. But not this time. I stared back, defiant, the rebellion in me burning through every scar he’d left.
And that defiance triggered him.
He didn’t say a word. Just flicked his eyes toward the hallway.
Two enforcers—his guards—emerged like shadows and pinned me without resistance. I didn’t struggle. I didn’t fight. What was the point?
Esther approached slowly, smugness written all over her face. She lifted her hand, and the next moment, a barrage of slaps landed across my cheek. One after another, ringing in my ears, burning into my skin. My head swam as the last blow struck, and a thin stream of blood trailed down the corner of my mouth.
That damn witch had channeled some of her wolf strength into her strikes. It wasn’t just about humiliation—it was about causing real pain.
Still, I didn’t scream. I didn’t even whimper. I dropped onto the floor in silence, my hair messy and my body disoriented, but I held my head high.
Israel stared down at me like I was nothing but a stain on the floor. “You deserved that,” he said flatly. “Apologize to Esther now, and I’ll overlook everything.”
My laugh came out of nowhere—sharp, unhinged, and utterly hollow.
“Are you serious?” I scoffed, voice brittle. “Keep dreaming.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “Camille, if you just listen to me—if you behave—I’ll give you everything you want. You’ll still get what you asked for: to be claimed, to be my mate. Do you really want to throw that away?”
He wanted to claim me now? Now that I didn’t want him anymore? After all the begging, after all the humiliation—now he suddenly decided I was worthy?
I spat the blood from my mouth and glared at him. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t want to be claimed anymore. I don’t want a marriage based on pity or power. I meant it when I said I’m done. You and I? We’re over.”
Maybe he thought I was bluffing. Maybe he still believed I’d crawl back, clinging to his offer of a future I used to dream about.
But the bitterness in his sneer said otherwise. “What about your mother’s dying wish?” he asked, mockery laced in every syllable.
There it was—that unspoken accusation. That I had manipulated him with a false illness, that everything had been a lie. He never truly believed my mother was dying. Not when Esther whispered poison in his ear.
Before I could reply, Esther jumped in again, her tone sickeningly sweet. “See? I told you she wasn’t being honest. Her mother probably isn’t even sick. Look at her—how can someone grieve with that attitude?”
That was the last straw.
“Shut your damn mouth!” I snapped, my voice hoarse with fury. “Don’t you dare mention my mother, you vile creature!”
Israel’s face twisted, the last of his patience gone.
“I hope you remember this moment,” he said coldly.
He pulled out his phone and dialed without hesitation. The name he spoke into the receiver hit like a warning bell.
“Tristan.”
That was his right hand—his most trusted enforcer and the wolf he planned to name Beta if he won the Alpha title.
He turned on the speaker, making sure I heard every word.
“Tristan, cancel all arrangements for the mateship ceremony.”
The preparations had already been completed. I knew that. But I no longer cared. Just the thought of being tied to him made my wolf recoil.
Israel wasn’t finished.
“And cancel the healer appointment for Camille’s mother, Annalise. I don’t want another resource wasted on lies.”
He kept his eyes locked on me as he said it, expecting panic or desperation.
But I stayed silent.
No tears.
No pleas.
Just emptiness.
For a second, even he seemed thrown off. But then, Tristan’s voice came through the line.
There was a long pause before he answered.
“Israel… Annalise passed away three days ago. On the same day your mateship ceremony was scheduled.”
