Chapter 2

I dragged myself back to my tent, blood trailing behind me with every step.

The moment I collapsed against the wall, Lupa's voice echoed weakly through my mind.

My wolf had been shattered so many times she could barely exist anymore—just a fragile presence curled up deep in my consciousness, sensing my life slipping away.

"I'm fine, Lupa," I murmured in my mind, closing my eyes.

A medic showed up once. Slapped some bandages on my shoulder and left.

Standard gauze couldn't stop abyssal dragon venom. I watched the poison spread through my veins in dark, branching lines, felt it burning through my blood. But strangely, my mind felt calm.

The next morning, before I'd even caught my breath from the pain, someone ripped open my tent flap.

Iliya swept in with several handmaidens in tow. Her silk gown seemed to shimmer in the dim space—pristine white against blood and filth.

The fresh golden soul mark on her forehead gleamed, so bright it made my stomach turn.

"I heard you were badly hurt. Thought I'd stop by." She wrinkled her nose in disgust, her gaze sweeping the tent before landing on the wall.

A short sword hung there.

Five years ago, after Othlan and I had killed a demon general together, he'd placed it in my hands himself. Star-crystal in the hilt. Proof we'd fought back-to-back, trusted each other with our lives.

"Nice blade." Iliya's eyes lit up. She gestured to a handmaiden. "Take it down. It'll match my new gown for tonight's banquet."

"Don't touch it." I swallowed the blood pooling in my throat and forced myself up, blocking the wall.

Iliya frowned, then let out a short laugh. "Yvette, it's just a sword. Have you forgotten? I'm His Grace's marked companion now. Anything I want in this court is mine."

"That's my trophy. Get out." I stared her down, my fingers clenched white at my sides.

Iliya's expression crumpled instantly. Tears spilled down her cheeks as if on cue.

"How can you be so vicious? I know you're jealous that Othlan gave me his mark, but I came here out of kindness, and you're attacking me..."

Before she finished, a blade of magical wind whistled past my face and slammed into the wall, severing a strand of my hair.

Othlan filled the entrance, his expression dark. He pulled Iliya behind him protectively.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Yvette?" His eyes swept over me coldly. "She came to check on you, and you can't even be civil?"

"She tried to take my sword." My voice came out flat.

Othlan glanced at the weapon and scoffed. "It's scrap metal. What use does a broken wolf have for a sword?"

"Five years ago, we killed that demon general together. You gave me this sword." I locked eyes with him, searching for any trace of what we used to have. "You said it proved we had each other's backs."

Something flickered across his face. Then irritation took over.

"Ancient history. Stop dragging up the past to guilt-trip me." His tone sharpened. "Give her the sword. Then apologize."

I didn't move.

Ancient history? Scrap metal?

I stared at his cold face, tasting copper in my throat.

Why was my wolf broken?

Three years ago, I'd taken a fatal blow from an abyssal dragon meant for him—half my wolf core shattered. A year ago, I'd burned my soul to fight through enemy lines so he could escape—lost my close-combat abilities forever.

Every scar that wouldn't heal, every wound still festering—I'd earned them protecting his throne.

And now those sacrifices were just me "guilt-tripping" him.

To him, I'd become nothing more than a useless beast that needed to learn its place.

When I still didn't move, Othlan's face darkened.

His power slammed into me. The air thickened, crushing down on my shoulders with impossible weight. My legs gave out.

My right knee cracked against stone.

"Don't test my patience, Yvette." He looked down at me like I was broken furniture. "I told you yesterday—you're a war pet now. Pets need to know their place. Last chance. Give her the sword and apologize."

Iliya pressed against Othlan, her voice trembling even as triumph flashed in her eyes. "Othlan, please, just let it go... Yvette didn't mean it..."

"No. Wolves need discipline. She needs to learn." His voice was ice-cold.

I raised my head and met his gaze.

These knees had only ever bent to shield him in battle. Now he was forcing me down before his new lover.

Fighting through the crushing pressure, I bit down on the blood filling my mouth and dragged myself upright. I reached for the sword.

"Don't do this! Yvette!" Lupa's voice screamed through my mind, desperate. The blade carried a blood pact from years ago. Breaking it would tear apart what remained of my soul.

My dying wolf howled inside me. I ignored the tearing pain, gripped the hilt in one hand and the blade in the other, and poured every last bit of magic I had left into my arms.

Crack.

The blood pact shattered. Pain detonated through my chest—my wolf ripping apart. Blood poured from my palms, streamed from my eyes and mouth.

The star-crystal blade that had witnessed us fighting side by side—I snapped it in half with my bare hands.

The jagged edge sliced deep into my palm. Dark red blood mixed with black poison splattered across the floor.

In that moment, five years between us shattered with the steel.

"Want it? Take it." I forced down the fragments tearing through my throat and threw the broken, bloody blade at Iliya's feet. "Get out."

Othlan's eyes widened. Staring at the broken sword, his mask cracked for just an instant—something he thought he'd never lose died right then.

But he didn't reach for it. The flicker of shock twisted into cold fury.

"Stubborn fool!" He grabbed Iliya and pulled her close, turning toward the exit. "If you want to throw tantrums, fine. Stay here. Don't come out. When the wedding's done, I'll deal with you."

The tent flap fell. Silence returned.

The last thread holding me together snapped. I collapsed onto the cold stone.

Surrounded by blood and broken steel, my wolf tearing itself apart, I didn't shed a single tear.

All my despair had burned out when I snapped that blade.

Deep in my consciousness, the ancient dragon's voice rumbled, cold and distant: "Two days remaining. Does the contractor wish to alter the terms?"

I closed my eyes, feeling the venom crawl through my veins, and smiled—a smile of complete freedom.

"Never."