~ ROSELLE ~

The words Ronan says are gently registering in my mind... I thought I had been wolfless... I thought... I was mocked for not having a wolf... I was... all this time I have a wolf and was being poisoned? My thoughts go to the food and water they fed me while I was still locked up.

"You’re wolfless, Roselle... I can’t marry you. You can’t be the Luna, or this pack is going to crumble. And then you’re mute... how do you intend to address the pack? Doing all that sign language is not fucking enough. You need to talk, and because of that, you’re nothing but a disgrace... we can’t happen."

Warren’s voice doesn’t just ring in my head—it echoes, each word a hammer blow directly to my chest. I recall him standing so close I can see the absolute disgust in his eyes, the way his lip curls like I’m something filthy he stepped in.

His eyes, the ones that should recognize me as his mate, are cold and empty, utterly devoid of anything resembling care.

My heart pounds, shattering into fragments, each beat sending splinters through my veins.

And then Nova walks in. Without a single word of acknowledgment, she goes straight to Warren. Her hand slides down his chest before settling between us. Her fingers brush over the front of his pants, brazen and possessive.

Right in front of me.

"Warren," she purrs, her voice dripping with fake sweetness that’s really just venom, "I’ve been waiting for you all day."

My stupid, traitorous heart hammers violently in my chest, clinging to desperate, pathetic hope. Hope that he’ll push her away. Hope that he’ll tell her no. Hope that he’ll remember that I’m the one bound to him by the Moon Goddess herself.

Instead, his hands that have never touched me with anything but contempt, snake up her waist and pull her closer.

His lips claim hers. His mouth devours hers like he’s starving, and she’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. And it’s happening right in front of me.

I can only stand there, every muscle in my body going rigid with shock and agony. My body is jittering, trembling like I’ve been electrocuted. The room spins around me, reality fracturing into pieces I can’t put back together.

They kiss deeper, and I watch, goddess help me, I can’t look away, as his hand slides down her back, cupping her ass possessively, pulling her body flush against his. She moans into his mouth, the sound obscene and triumphant, and that sound is a knife being driven directly into my heart.

The bond between us screams. I can feel it, the mate bond that should be sacred, that should be a source of strength and connection, being trampled on, desecrated, destroyed. It’s like watching someone you love tear out your organs while you’re still alive, watching them discard the sacred things that bind you together like they’re nothing.

Warren breaks the kiss, and when he opens his eyes, he looks directly at me over Nova’s shoulder. There’s a smile on his face cold, cruel, victorious and in that moment, I understand that this was done purposefully. He wanted me to see. He wanted me to watch him choose her. He wanted to break me with this moment.

The pain of the mate bond rejection without an actual rejection, being forced to watch him with someone else, being forced to feel the bond’s agony as it’s ignored and trampled, is almost worse than if he’d just marked her himself.

Nova laughs, a sound like breaking glass, and she trails her fingers down his chest possessively, never taking her eyes off me. "Poor little mute can’t even speak up about this," she coos mockingly. "How sad."

Warren doesn’t defend me or tell her to stop. Doesn’t acknowledge my existence at all.

I can only stand there, shaking, my entire body vibrating with the force of my heartbreak, as they continue to kiss, as his hands continue to touch her in ways he’s never touched me, as the mate bond screams silent agony that no one else can hear.

And later, when I beg him — to reject me and end this torture, he refuses.

"You’re going to feel the pain of this bond," he says coldly, "because that’s what murderers deserve. Eternal suffering."

I snap back to reality when I hear Ronan mention going back to Westbrook. The look on his face, the frown already forming on his forehead, tells me everything I need to know. Maybe he’s finally tired of harboring a murderer and a liar under his roof. Maybe he’s decided I’ve become more trouble than I’m worth, and now he wants to send me back.

A wave of panic crashes through me at the thought. Maybe I should have told him the truth sooner instead of keeping everything bottled up inside. Maybe if I had trusted him from the beginning, things would be different. Instead, I let him believe half-truths and omissions, and now I’m paying the price for it.

I can’t go back to Westbrook. I can’t. The mere thought of setting foot there again makes my chest tighten and my stomach churn. There’s nothing waiting for me there except pain, betrayal, and memories I’d rather forget.

If Ronan truly wants me gone, then I wish he would leave me anywhere else. He could drop me off as a lone wolf. He could leave me in another territory. He could send me anywhere but Westbrook, and I would accept it without complaint.

I would fend for myself if I had to. I would work harder than I’ve ever worked before. I would survive, no matter how difficult it became. I’ve already lost everything that mattered to me. Starting over from nothing wouldn’t be the worst thing that has happened to me.

And then I would focus on one thing and one thing only—revenge. I would make Warren pay for every lie, every betrayal, and every ounce of pain he has caused. I would become strong enough that no one could ever look down on me again.

Most importantly, I would take back what was stolen from us. I would reclaim my pack from the people who destroyed it and twisted the truth. No matter how long it took or how much it cost me, I would make sure Westbrook belonged to its rightful owner once again.

Relief washes over me when he says he’s not returning me.

Then why is he taking me to Westbrook?

"Then you’re not upset that I’m someone else’s mate?" I sign hesitantly, my fingers trembling slightly. "And not... without a mate?"

Ronan shakes his head, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"You’re not marked yet, and he hasn’t rejected you," he says firmly. "But I need to talk to him. That’s why I have to take you back there."

His gaze softens slightly.

"And you have nothing to fear, Roselle. You’re under my protection. He can’t hurt you."

I stare at him, my heart refusing to settle.

"He lied to me," Ronan continues, his voice hardening. "He told me you were his sister. The contract clearly stated that he was offering his sister’s hand in marriage, not his mate’s."

His expression darkens, anger flashing across his features.

"If I had gone through with that marriage, Warren would have dragged me into a much bigger problem than he realizes."

He lets out a sharp breath before fixing me with a pointed look.

"You know as well as I do that, under pack law, what he did is considered an offense against the Moon Goddess. A mated wolf cannot simply hand their mate over to another wolf under false pretenses. What Warren did is a violation of sacred law."

My stomach drops at the implications of what he’s saying.

"When we get to Westbrook," Ronan continues, his voice firm and resolute, "you’re going to reject him. Officially. I know it will hurt, but the pain will fade once the bond is severed. And once you do that, you’ll be free from him completely."

Fear spikes through me at the thought of facing Warren again, of going back to that place of nightmares and torture.

Ronan must see the panic in my eyes because he reaches out and cups my face gently in his hands.

"Stay calm," he says, his voice softening. "You’re not going back there alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way. He won’t dare touch you while you’re under my protection. And I’m going to make a further investigation about the chemical they used on you. I want to know exactly who authorized it, who administered it, and how long it’s been in your system."

His words are a promise, a vow, and they settle something frightened inside me.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to my cheek, then my forehead, then the other cheek. His lips are warm, comforting, and each kiss feels like a reassurance that I’m not alone in this anymore.

"Sleep now," he whispers against my hair. "You need rest. We leave for Westbrook at first light, but right now, you need to recover."

He pulls me against him, my back to his chest, and his strong arms wrap around me protectively. One hand comes up to gently pat my shoulder, stroking slowly, rhythmically, like he’s soothing a frightened animal.

"I’ve got you," he murmurs into my hair. "I’ve always got you."

His steady heartbeat echoes against my back, as his warmth surrounds me completely, I finally allow myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, I’m not alone in this nightmare anymore.

Maybe I finally have someone in my corner. Maybe I finally have someone willing to fight for me.

I close my eyes and let sleep pull me under, his arms a safe harbor in the storm that’s about to come.