three

The iron chains clanged free and crashed onto the stone floor.

Charles scrambled over on hands and knees to unlock them, his hands shaking so badly he could not align the key for ages. I stood there with my arms hanging loose, blood still seeping from the gash on my wrist.

“My lady, I have already informed the Alpha…” his voice trembled.

I ignored him.

I looked down at myself.

My wedding gown was unrecognizable, caked in blood and grime like a tattered rag. Half‑congealed black blood clots stained my thighs.

The small shapeless mass of flesh lay quietly in the pool of blood on the ground, and I stared at it for a long time.

Something welled up inside me—what should have been sorrow or rage—but it only flickered briefly before being pushed back by that icy mental barrier.

I knew who I was.

Elara, a senior mage apprentice of the Empire, a student under Merlin, the Seventh Archmage of the Mage Tower, specializing in life magic research.

I knew thirty percent of my life magic had just been drained from me, and I had miscarried.

I knew this was some werewolf territory, that the men binding me were werewolves, and the one giving orders was their Alpha leader.

Yet I could not remember.

Why the hell had I stayed in this place like a fool?

“Disgusting.”

I tore off the hem of my wedding gown, wrapped it tightly around the wound on my right wrist, and tied a firm knot. The cloth was soaked through with blood instantly.

The iron door of the basement slammed open.

Kael burst in with three military healers.

He had changed into black combat wear with his collar wide open. His expression held a condescending, patronizing leniency.

“Elara.”

He spoke.

“Have you thrown enough tantrums?”

I leaned against the wall and said nothing.

“Selene’s condition has stabilized.” He stopped three steps away, hands in his pockets. “Apologize, and the wedding will go ahead with you still as the bride. I can overlook everything that happened today…”

“Who are you?”

I cut him off.

My voice was quiet yet clear.

I pushed myself upright against the wall and scanned him up and down, my gaze as dismissive as one staring at worthless junk on a street stall.

Kael’s expression froze.

“Elara, stop this charade.” He frowned, his leniency fading. “Do you think feigning madness or amnesia will make me pity you? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Feigning?”

I tilted my head.

“Mr. Werewolf, are you unwell? I do not know you, nor do I care about your messy personal affairs.”

Kael took a sharp step forward. He was a head taller than me, and his Alpha pheromones crashed down—enough to make most people’s knees buckle.

I did not back away.

I even took half a step forward, tilting my face up to meet his eyes.

“I said—” I enunciated each word slowly, “Forcibly draining thirty percent of a mage’s life magic without permission violates Article 13, Clause 7 of the Mage Tower Code, and you have ruined my dress.”

I lifted my right hand and waved it in front of him.

“A bill will be delivered to your territory tomorrow morning. Triple compensation, plus emotional damages, medical fees, and the cost of this gown. Ventrue haute couture, one hundred and twenty thousand gold coins.”

I paused.

“If payment is not made within three days, I will burn this shabby mansion to the ground myself.”

Kael stared hard into my eyes.

He must have searched for even the faintest trace of petulance or pretense on my face.

But he found nothing.

Truly nothing.

My face was like a frozen lake, empty beneath the surface—or full of feelings, yet trapped under ice too thick to surface.

His expression shifted, first to confusion, then to some unnameable emotion.

That was when I glanced down and spotted the ring on my ring finger.

Three carats, with the werewolf clan totem and the inscription Until the moon falls carved inside the band.

“Oh, this.”

I gripped the ring and pulled it roughly over my knuckle. My knuckle was thicker than the band, and the forced movement tore away a layer of skin, blood welling up at once.

It hurt.

But compared to having my magic drained, the pain was no worse than a mosquito bite.

I opened my hand.

Clink.

The diamond ring dropped into the thick pool of blood and dead flesh at my feet, splashing a small spray of blood.

“Trash belongs in the trash can.”

I brushed dust off my hands.

Kael’s face finally changed.

Not with anger, but panic.

An instinctive panic he might not even have realized himself.

He clamped his hand hard around my shoulder, his grip tight enough to crush bone. “You’re asking for death! Without my permission, you will never step foot outside this territory—”

“Let go.”

I turned my head, staring at his hand on my shoulder.

“Do not touch me with hands that have touched another woman.”

My voice was soft.

“Filthy stray dog.”

Kael stiffened completely.

He stared in disbelief at the woman for whom he had once grieved over the smallest frown.

His grip loosened unconsciously.

I shoved his shoulder aside and walked barefoot toward the stone steps.

My tattered wedding gown dragged behind me, leaving a dark red trail of blood on the stone slabs with every step.

“Seize her!”

Kael roared behind me, his voice echoing around the basement and making the torches flicker violently.

I did not look back.

The moment my foot touched the first step—

“Alpha! Alpha!”

It was the healer who had been cleaning the altar. His voice cracked, trembling with extreme terror.

Kael snapped irritably. “What is it? Clean up the mess on the floor!”

“No… no… this blood…”

The healer’s voice shook uncontrollably.

I kept walking.

Step by step upward, my gown rustling behind me.

From below came the healer’s hoarse shout.

“Alpha! The tissue in this pool of dead blood has an unprecedented bloodline purity—over ninety percent! It is the purest top‑tier Alpha bloodline signature I have ever seen!”

“The lady was not lying. What you forced her to miscarry by draining her magic was your own three‑month‑old wolf pup!”

My footsteps faltered for a single second.

Only a second.

Then I kept climbing.

Behind me, Kael’s voice cracked. “Impossible… I never touched her recently… how could she carry my child…”

“No, damn it… there was that night three months ago…” Kael glared at the tiny mass of flesh in the blood pool, radiating a violent aura. “No… my little wolf pup!”

His voice grew fainter and fainter, eventually swallowed by the thick stone walls.

I pushed open the iron gate of the underground altar.

Cold night wind rushed in, carrying the scent of grass and soil. The moonlight was bright, bleaching the entire courtyard pale.

I lifted my tattered, stinking skirt and walked barefoot into the night.

From the basement behind me came Kael’s voice—the sound only someone who had lost something irreplaceable could make.

I did not look back.

That night three months ago.

It had not been an Alpha rut. He had been drunk and drugged, broken into my room, and whispered over and over in my ear, “Elara, I need you.”

That night was the first time I had thought he finally saw me.

Now, I turned my head and gazed calmly at the werewolf territory. “This is not where I belong…”