After Kaelen returned from the clinic, I took the papers to sever our bond and went straight to his office.
“Miss Sterling, the Alpha is handling an urgent matter. He doesn’t have time right now.” His Beta, Alistair Thorne, blocked my path.
Handling an urgent matter?
I followed his gaze to the glass door.
Through the crack, I heard not the low murmur of pack business, but the soft, rhythmic pulse of a medical device.
In what was supposed to be the most secure office in the pack, the screen didn't display a map of our territorial defenses.
It was monitoring Elara’s vital signs in real-time.
An Alpha who could execute traitors without batting an eye was now staring nervously at a human’s heart monitor, his face etched with a panic I’d never seen before.
How absurd.
I still remembered, early in our bond, when I was organizing ancient texts for him and cut my finger on the edge of a page, drawing a single bead of blood.
When Kaelen saw it, he had hurled the ancient tome across the room without hesitation.
“Selena, I hate any form of imperfection,” he had said coldly, his fingers digging into my wrist. “Clean it up. Don’t let me see it again.”
From that day on, I wore double-layered gloves even when trimming the ceremonial moonpetal flowers.
“Miss Sterling…” Alistair’s voice pulled me back to the present.
I let out a bitter laugh. “It’s fine. When he has a moment, just have him sign this.”
Alistair nodded, took the papers from my hand, and disappeared into the office.
I thought I would have to wait at least a few minutes.
Surely, he would wait until Elara’s vitals were completely stable before sparing me even a sliver of his attention.
But less than thirty seconds later, the door creaked open.
Alistair handed the papers back, Kaelen’s signature already scrawled on the last page.
He hadn’t even glanced at the additional clauses.
My fingers clenched around the papers, a suffocating tightness seizing my chest.
From the day I awakened at fifteen, I knew I would be Kaelen’s mate. He was our pack's merciless king—cold, untouchable, incapable of loving anyone. And yet, I had naively believed that if I was perfect enough, I could be the one exception.
As it turned out, that position had long been reserved for someone else.
Now, with a few careless strokes of his pen, he had turned all my foolish hopes into a joke.
When I returned to the Alpha's residence, I had the maid, Clara Meadows, take down the portrait painted at our bonding ceremony.
“But, Luna… that painting is your favorite. It holds the power of your bond with the Alpha…”
She was right. I had once seen that painting as proof I had tamed the cold-blooded Alpha—that I had trapped him in a frame and made him mine.
But I had forgotten that you can’t change an Alpha’s nature. Kaelen hadn’t changed; he had just lain dormant.
“Burn it, Clara. We wouldn’t want to offend his new ‘solace’,” I said, my voice deceptively light.
