Chapter 2

I once crossed mountains and rivers, trying to patch together his shattered childhood—

the moments with his mother were the only warmth he remembered.

He used to whisper her bedtime tale to himself, even as an adult:

"Don’t be afraid, little wolf. The Moon will catch every tear you shed."

I even taught myself everything he liked in bed, hoping to rekindle the fading soulbond between us.

I thought we were building a future—one shaped by Luna and her Alpha, a family destined by the Moon Goddess herself.

But on the first anniversary of our bond, he openly brought a woman from my Luna advisory council into the Alpha-designated suite.

It was the chamber prepared for our mate-ceremony tribute.

I lost control. Stormed in like a feral she-wolf.

Alpha Charles smirked as he threw the mate-contract I signed with Elder Timothy in my face.

“Rachel,” he said with a cruel glint, “did you think some performance under the Moon made you Frost Pack’s real Luna?”

“You’re nothing but a tool bought with my grandfather’s Alpha seal. A docile female wolf. You think you have the right to question me?”

“Push me again, and I’ll stop your grandmother’s silver detox treatment.”

It felt like my soul cracked.

“You’re still enduring all this, hoping he might pity you?”

Chloe’s voice echoed cold and clear inside my head.

“Rachel, he’s extorting you with your grandmother’s life and grinding your dignity into the dirt. What are you still waiting for?”

I couldn’t answer. My breath caught in my throat.

After that, Charles no longer hid his cruelty.

He flaunted new mistresses during every monthly Moon Tide Ritual.

He made sure they watched me smile while I bled beneath ceremonial gloves, my fingernails digging into my palms.

Once, he had a new flame wear my Luna coronation gown before the whole pack and say:

“The Luna title should have been mine from the beginning.”

Each public humiliation peeled away what little honor I had left.

One side: my grandmother, clinging to life.

The other: a mate-bond that had long rotted to its roots.

I was being pulled apart, slipping toward collapse.

One day, dazed and sleep-deprived, I fell down the Pack Hall’s marble stairs.

When I woke, the healing witch whispered:

“You’re pregnant.”

Timothy all but begged:

“Rachel… please keep this pup. Maybe he’ll be the turning point. If Charles still refuses after the child is born, I swear—no more pressure.”

I was torn.

In the end, I said yes.

I pressed my fingers to the glowing dot on the ultrasound stone and nodded.

Back then, I still believed blood could mend a broken bond.

“You’re gambling.” Chloe murmured.

“Gambling on a spark of decency he never had. You’re offering up a new life in exchange for the soul of a wolf who’s long since gone dark.”

“...I don’t have a choice,” I whispered.

“You do. You still have me.” Her voice softened,

“Even when you locked me away, even when you ignored me—I stayed. I’m your wolf spirit, Rachel. I won’t leave you.”

Tears burned my eyes.

“Thank you, Chloe,” I said aloud.

But nothing prepared me for what came next.

I gave everything I had—

and still, I couldn’t save my grandmother.

Couldn’t save the pup.

The mate-bond.

The love.

Even my Luna title…

I had failed to protect it all.

I wiped my tears and stared out the window into a sky the color of ash.

Maybe the only comfort was this:

Charles and I were finally… free.

The soul-comm stone buzzed.

It was Charles.

“Rachel, what did you tell my grandfather this time? I finally get some peace with Thalia, and you go whining again?”

“Keep this up, and I’ll freeze your Pack ID.”

The old me would have panicked.

Apologized.

Begged for his forgiveness.

Not anymore.

“Do whatever you want,” I said flatly.

There was a pause.

Then another message.

“Take care of the pup. Unless you want the old hag dead tomorrow.”

I closed my eyes.

I knew exactly how far Charles would go.

The first time I found out he cheated, I naively went to Timothy, thinking the Council would protect its Luna.

Instead, Charles retaliated.

He used my grandmother’s treatment as a leash—

and forced me to kneel on the bedroom balcony,

slapping myself over and over

until blood streaked my cheeks.

He spent that night with Thalia in the next room.

I remember their laughter as my body froze and my face went numb.

The healing witches later diagnosed me with frostbite.

“You nearly severed our soul-link that night.”

Chloe whispered,

“You cried out—not for me. Not for your grandmother. You cried for your mother. That call for comfort? It was never answered.”

My throat tightened.

“I’m done calling,” I murmured.

“Good.”

Chloe’s voice was firm.

“Then let’s begin the reckoning.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

I turned off the communicator.

Then stood.

And called the mortician I trusted.

It was time to cremate what was left of my pup—

and the part of me that still believed in Charles Frost.