Chapter 3

Without warning, Mara flipped the banquet table over.

Dishes shattered across the stone floor as she lunged at me, clawed fingers aimed straight for my eyes.

"You lying bitch! I'll rip that smug look off your face!"

Silas and his enforcers blanched, scrambling forward, but they were too late.

I didn't even flinch. A slight tilt of my head, and her strike caught only empty air.

Before she could recover, my fingers locked around her windpipe.

I hoisted her clean off the floor with one hand.

Mara’s skin flushed.

She clawed frantically at my forearm, her legs kicking at nothing, choking on her own fury.

Despite the public shaming—where I had exposed her 'miracle' pregnancy as a crude illusion fueled by black-market tonics—she still clung to the lie with feverish intensity.

She knew that as long as Silas believed she carried his heir, she was untouchable.

"Still pretending, Mara?" I hissed, my voice low and lethal. "Even after I stripped away your illusion for the whole pack to see?"

"It's real this time!" she wheezed. "I'm weak, I'm fading—the Elders say my body is barely holding onto his child! You're just jealous because you can't give him what I can!"

I studied her frantic eyes. Beautiful? Reckless? She was nothing compared to who I used to be.

For five long years, Silas had kept me caged in his fortress, dulling my senses with dark wards.

Everyone in the Wasteland Pack had grown comfortable.

They had forgotten that I was no helpless stray—I was the pureblood Lunar Priestess of the North, the Alpha’s daughter, born with the wrath of the winter moon in my veins.

Silas's heavy hand clamped around my wrist. "Ophelia, stop! Hurting her is hurting our child—she’s fragile, she’s suffering from the pregnancy transition!"

I released my grip. Mara dropped to the stones, coughing violently as she scrambled into his arms.

I dusted off my palms, completely unbothered. "I am the Luna of this pack, Silas. You let this Omega insult my rank in front of your council. The wager was her idea. The loser bleeds. Isn't that the law of the pack?"

Silas drew a tight, ragged breath. "I am the Alpha. If she crossed the line, I'll pay her debt."

He snatched the Lunar Silver Dagger from the altar, shoved the hilt into my palm, and pressed his forearm against the razor-sharp edge.

With brutal force, he dragged my hand down, slicing deep into his own flesh.

The heavy, metallic stench of fresh Alpha blood flooded the chamber.

Silas gritted his teeth, his jaw working as his face drained of color.

He forced a strained, pleading smile. "Ophelia... I know I've hurt you. The debt is paid in blood. Can you forgive me now?"

Mara wrapped her arms around his wounded arm, tears spilling down her cheeks in theatrical distress. "Silas, have you lost your mind?! She tried to slaughter me and your unborn pup, and you're carving yourself up for her? Why do you let her treat you like this?!"

"Quiet, Mara," Silas snapped.

Ignoring the blood dripping from his arm, he scooped Mara into his arms and turned toward the infirmary.

Mara sobbed loudly against his shoulder, spitting curses at me until the doors swung shut.

I stood alone in the wreckage, entirely unmoved.

He didn't care about the wound. His only concern was shielding Mara’s stomach.

And Mara, playing the wounded victim, kept running her hands over his cut, marking her claim.

I turned on my heel, retreated to my quarters, and bolted the door.

Silas and I had once been bitter enemies, commanding opposing borders.

I used to believe he wanted nothing more than to execute me. I never imagined he would claim he loved me.

Even worse, on that eclipse night five years ago, he had stolen the Eye of the Moon and bound me with a forbidden ritual.

The artificial mate bond had clouded my mind, convincing me I loved him too.

Yet while I lived in that manufactured daze, his loyalty had strayed.

Fragments of my stolen memories rushed back into focus.

Over the past five years, my parents had tried reaching me through our sacred bloodline, but the eclipse magic had muffled their calls until the link went dead.

And Alaric Calder—the Alpha King, my true fated mate—had torn the continent apart searching for me.

Every time he closed in, Silas’s fabricated scent trails threw him off course.

Silas had kept me imprisoned under constant guard, watching me like a prize specimen in a cage.

I walked to the open balcony, extending my palm into the cool night air. A glimmer of silver light gathered at my fingertips, taking the shape of a Lunar Moth.

I pressed a single drop of my priestess blood onto its translucent wings, embedding a beacon only Alaric could trace.

"Find him," I whispered.

The moth fluttered into the night, vanishing toward the northern horizon.

Footsteps echoed outside. The door clicked open.

Mara sashayed in, carrying a tray stacked with delicate pastries. "Silas had these imported just for my cravings. Jealous?"

Silas stepped into the room right behind her, hovering like a devoted guardian.

Mara curled her lips into a cruel smirk. "A bond without passion is dead, Ophelia. Silas has something to settle with you."

She tossed her hair and slipped out, closing the door behind her.

Silas looked at me, a flicker of feigned guilt in his gaze. "She's fragile, Ophelia. She refuses to carry the pup to term unless she holds an official title. It's just a formality. We only have to put on a show for the pack."

Then, Silas cleared his throat and spoke the ancient rite:

"I, Alpha Silas Greyson, reject you, Priestess Ophelia Ashford, as my mate. I sever our bond."

A phantom ache stabbed through my chest, the ritual magic recoiling.

Silas gave me a subtle, warning shake of his head, silently urging me to endure it and keep quiet.

He wanted to play games with sacred oaths just to appease his mistress.

Fine. I would give him exactly what he asked for.

"I, Ophelia Ashford, accept your rejection, Alpha Silas Greyson," I said, voice ringing clear and steady.

"You are no longer my mate."

The second the words cleared my lips, the eclipse curse shattered.

A violent shockwave of dark magic ripped through the room.

Agony tore through my core as the false bond was wrenched out by its roots.

I gripped the dresser, my knuckles turning white, but I refused to fall.

On my collarbone, the mating mark burned, turned to ash, and dissolved completely.

Silas fared far worse. The dark ritual backlash struck him square in the chest.

He collapsed to one knee, coughing up dark blood as the veins along his throat bulged black.

Breathing through the residual sting, I stood tall.

I reached to my neck and snapped the silver chain holding the relic.

I threw the Eye of the Moon onto the stone floor, letting it roll to his knees with a cold clatter.

I looked down at him, a razor-thin smile touching my lips.

"Pick up your trinket, Silas. Go play house with your Omega."