Chapter 2

Sunniva's POV

I pushed open the doors to the Ulvarr Manor, only to be greeted by a sharp crack—glass shattering, loud and grating.

In the center of the hall, Anniken was casually sweeping my private photo albums onto the floor.

"Clear all this out," she ordered, pacing the room with the arrogance of a new mistress. "Geirolf doesn’t want a trace of her scent left in the master bedroom."

The maids were stuffing my belongings into black trash bags like garbage. Above the fireplace, our massive wedding portrait had been violently torn down. The exquisite frame lay in pieces, the glass shredding my face in the picture.

She was wearing the nightgown Geirolf had custom-ordered for me from Paris last month.

"Sunniva, you're back." She tilted her head, her smile devoid of any guilt. "Since the Alpha has already rejected you, there's no point keeping this junk around, right?"

I said nothing. There is no grief greater than a dead heart.

I turned to grab the last few things that belonged to me. I didn't want to spend one more second in this place.

"Oh, right, this too..."

Anniken's voice floated from behind, dripping with casual malice. "This dusty old wooden box. Toss it with the rest?"

I whipped my head around.

Her finger hooked onto my moonstone bracelet, swinging it under the light like a worthless trinket.

It was my mother's only belonging.

"Let it go!"

I rushed at her faster than I expected.

Anniken didn’t dodge.

She didn't even try to step back. Instead, she leaned backward, falling with a perfectly coordinated arch, letting out a sharp, piercing scream—precise and timed, like she had rehearsed it a thousand times.

We crashed onto the glass-covered floor together. To protect the bracelet, I braced myself with my right hand, my palm pressing straight into the sharpest shards. Blood instantly gushed through my fingers.

A crisp snap.

The moonstone hit the edge of the table and cracked down the middle.

"What are you doing?!"

The Alpha's roar jolted the room.

Geirolf stormed into the hall, still bringing in the chill from outside. The moment his eyes swept the room, they locked onto Anniken on the floor.

"Geirolf... it hurts..." Right on cue, tears sprang to her eyes, her voice trembling perfectly. "I just wanted to help Sunniva pack... I know she's mad at me, but I didn't mean to..." She lowered her lashes. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have touched that box."

Geirolf dropped to one knee, carefully holding her arm. "Did you break anything?"

There was a barely visible red mark on Anniken's elbow.

Meanwhile, blood dripped steadily from my right hand, pooling dark crimson on the floorboards.

He didn't spare me a single glance.

"Sunniva." He stood up, his voice deadly low as his Alpha pressure crashed down. "She's sick, and you lay hands on her—"

"She took my mother's heirloom." I held up my right hand, blood and glass shards mangled together in my palm. "Look closely, Geirolf."

His eyes lingered on my hand for less than a second before he looked away.

"Enough. Stop making excuses."

"Geirolf, leave it." Anniken softly tugged his sleeve, looking up with tear-filled, pitiful eyes. "She just lost her mate link, it's normal to lose control... Don't push her, it's my fault."

The more she acted like a martyr, the heavier his glare crushed me.

"Listen to her." Geirolf’s voice was laced with unconcealed disgust. "She’s hurt and STILL making excuses for you. And you? You have zero decency."

He strode over to me, his dress shoes soundlessly stepping on my dripping blood, looking down at me like a god.

"Now, apologize to her."

I tilted my head up and looked straight into his eyes.

Once, those same eyes knelt in a blizzard for three straight days just to leave a permanent mark on my neck. Now, they were filled with nothing but judgment and a stranger's coldness.

"No." I said, word by word. "She took what didn't belong to her, and she broke it. I have absolutely nothing to apologize for."

His pupils shrank.

"Geirolf..." Anniken called softly from behind, staging distress. "Why don't we... let her cool off first?"

He turned back around and swept her up into a princess carry.

Anniken buried her face in his chest. But from an angle he couldn't see, she slowly turned her head and flashed me a microscopic, lingering smile. Clean, silent, and utterly triumphant.

"Throw her in the dungeon," Geirolf's voice drifted back, flat and emotionless. "No medical supplies, no water. When she figures out her place and gets on her knees to apologize to Anniken, she can come out."