It began with a flicker.
A subtle tremor deep in Aria’s chest, like the flutter of a moth’s wing brushing against her ribcage. At first, she dismissed it. Just stress. Exhaustion. Maybe even grief, though she wasn’t ready to name it yet. But the second time it came—sharp, dissonant, wrong—she dropped her spoon and clutched her chest like something inside had snapped.
The pack kitchen was quiet, too early for noise, too late for peace. She had come down for tea, unable to sleep, trying to avoid Zara’s watchful eyes. Her mug shattered against the tiled floor, shards scattering in all directions. Pain bloomed at her wrist where boiling water had splashed her skin, but she barely noticed.
Because the bond was pulling. Not tightening. Fraying.
She pressed a trembling hand to her sternum.
Kael.
Zara appeared moments later, summoned by the crash. “What happened?”
Aria knelt wordlessly, gathering shards, her hands pale and shaking.
Zara’s expression shifted from concern to alarm. “You felt it, didn’t you?”
Aria nodded, throat too tight for words.
Zara dropped beside her, brushing glass from her fingers. “It’s not just you. I could feel the magic strain in the air. Even the garden wolves were on edge tonight.”
Aria finally managed a whisper. “He’s pulling away.”
“Or someone’s pushing.”
They didn’t say her name, but Evelyn’s presence weighed heavily in the silence between them. Aria had tried not to dwell on it. Had tried not to imagine how close Kael might be sleeping to her, what promises he might be whispering in the dark. But now, with the bond shifting beneath her skin like a dying flame, she couldn’t stop the images from flooding her mind.
Kael’s hand on Evelyn’s hip.
Kael’s voice murmuring promises he once gave to Aria.
Kael’s lips—hers.
A fresh wave of nausea rolled through her.
Zara helped her to her feet. “You should go to the seer. Get a second reading. If someone’s interfering with your bond, it might still be reversible—”
“I’m not going to beg to keep a man who’s already halfway gone.”
The words surprised even Aria. But once spoken, they rang true.
She wasn’t going to chase what had already been handed to someone else. If Kael wanted Evelyn, he could have her. But he would not erase Aria without consequence. Not without her fighting for something—for herself.
By the time she returned to her quarters, the bond was silent.
Not broken. But eerily still. As though it was trying to protect her from the agony of sensing him wrapped around someone else.
The next day brought no relief.
She dressed early, her white Luna robes abandoned in favor of a plain gray shift and black boots. There was no point in ceremony anymore. The pack already whispered when she passed. Servants looked away. Courtiers fumbled their greetings.
She wasn’t Luna.
Not in their eyes.
Not in his.
The worst part? She didn’t feel like one anymore either.
She spent the afternoon in the south wing library, pacing among scrolls and ancient spellbooks, searching for anything—anything—that could explain a forced unraveling of a fated bond. Nothing she found soothed her. Every tome repeated the same truth: fated bonds were rare, but when real, they were irrevocable unless willingly severed… or overwritten by primal magic.
Overwritten.
The word burned itself into her brain.
It suggested a new claim. A replacement.
A second mate.
Her stomach twisted.
When the second pull came, it wasn’t a flicker—it was a tear. A clean, deep one. It felt like her soul was being peeled back from a hook.
She dropped the book in her hands and collapsed to her knees, gasping.
It was late evening. No one saw. No one came.
She lay on the cold floor between shelves, hands pressed to the stone, whispering his name like it might bring him back.
Kael. Kael. Kael.
But there was nothing.
No echo. No warmth. Just the throb of distance, like she was bleeding through a wound he couldn’t feel.
She didn’t know how long she stayed there.
Zara found her after nightfall, her cloak damp with sweat, her face pale.
“I felt it,” she whispered. “The bond—”
“I know.”
Zara knelt beside her. “You’re still tied to him, but barely. I think—” She swallowed. “I think he’s trying to sever it from his end. Piece by piece.”
Aria looked at her hands, the veins beneath her skin glowing faintly gold—a sign of strain, of rejection. Her body was resisting the detachment.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“You survive,” Zara said fiercely. “You hold on to yourself. He might be your mate, Aria. But he is not your master.”
Aria closed her eyes.
Her wolf howled low inside her, mournful and restless, aching for the bond that used to be its anchor.
For the first time since she’d been marked, Aria didn’t feel the warmth of a tether pulling her toward Kael.
She only felt the cold.
