Chapter 1I paid a witch one million dollars to sever my mate bond. Ten days until the next full moon.
My Alpha Cain is the strongest in the Southern Territory. His childhood sweetheart Serena just moved in—carrying his heir.
I'm three months pregnant too. He doesn't know.
For three years, I made his remedies, managed his supplies, pretended not to smell her on his skin.
He skipped our sacred ceremony to stay with her. Gave her the best care while I bled on a storage room cot.
So I fed him the witch's potion in a "calming tonic." He drank every drop.
Ten days until the bond snaps. Then I'm gone—to the Northern Territory, where a healer who values my work is waiting.
Cain thinks I'm just the orphan herbalist who got lucky.
He's about to learn I was the one keeping his empire alive.
And when he kneels in the rubble begging?
"You never saw me, Cain. You never will."
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I'd been mated to Cain for three years. He was the Alpha of the strongest pack in the Southern Territory. Everyone envied the orphan who'd become his Luna.
And yet there I was, walking into a witch's cottage to buy a potion that could sever a mate bond.
The witch slid an unremarkable glass vial across the table. "One million dollars. You and your mate each drink half," she said. "It takes effect on the next full moon. The bond snaps on its own."
I didn't bargain. I poured the potion into the clay pot I'd brought—it looked like any other herbal brew.
The front door of the Blackwood manor stood wide open. The scene in the living room stopped me for three seconds. Serena was wearing a nearly see-through silk slip, half her chest on full display, her entire body draped over Cain. They were flipping through an old photo album.
Serena's finger jabbed at a picture, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. "God, look at your face as a kid. You were so dumb I wanted to punch you."
Cain was laughing. One hand resting on the arm Serena had wrapped around his waist, eyes half-closed—like a wolf basking in the sun. Lazy. Content. He was never like that with me.
Cain opened his eyes and saw me. No panic. Didn't push Serena away. Didn't even sit up. "You're back."
That was it.
Serena turned her head, chin propped on Cain's shoulder, and smiled at me. "Ivy, want to look with us? Cain and I took so many photos as kids—they're hilarious."
I didn't look at her. I walked up to Cain and held out the clay pot. "Calming tonic. Simmered for three hours. It'll help your migraines."
Cain took it and sniffed. Didn't ask questions. He never asked. I used to make him herbal remedies all the time—for insomnia, for inflammation, for old injuries. He was used to drinking whatever I brought him.
Serena poked her head out from behind him. "Mmm, that smells amazing. I want a bowl too!"
Cain didn't even look up. "Ivy, make one for Serena."
"I'm out of herbs," I said. "Next time."
The moment I watched him finish the last drop, I turned and walked away. When the door closed behind me, my hands were shaking. The next full moon. Seventeen days. Then the bond would snap on its own.
I thought back to when I was fifteen. My father had thrown himself in front of old Alpha Alaric during an ambush—the enemy's claws tore open his chest. He died on the spot. Alaric kept me in the pack. A dead driver's daughter with no bloodline, no backing. Just the old Alpha's word: "I'll raise this one."
How the pack treated me—I don't need to spell that out. A bloodline-less orphan growing up among wolves born into rigid hierarchy. Surviving at all was lucky.
Three years ago, I'd just turned eighteen. My first shift. Every bone in my body felt like it was being snapped one by one and pieced back together. I lay collapsed in the mud of the backyard, bruises from the young wolves' kicks still blooming across my skin.
Then Cain came home. He'd come back from a border conflict, covered in blood, a deep gash running from his collarbone to his ribs on the left side. He found me in the backyard. Didn't say a word. Went inside, came back with healing salve, crouched down, and tended to my wounds one by one.
I cleaned the wound on his shoulder too. The moment my fingers touched his skin—the bond hit us both. Like lightning striking bone.
That night, neither of us could stop ourselves. Three weeks later, Cain declared me his Luna in front of the entire pack. Everyone shut up—at least to his face.
For a while, Cain did protect me. Someone mocked my background to my face—he dislocated that Beta's arm. Someone said I wasn't worthy behind my back—he announced at a pack meeting that "questioning the Luna is questioning the Alpha."
I really thought that was how my story would end. A good ending.
Until Serena came back. Serena Carter. Cain's childhood sweetheart. She'd mated with another pack's Alpha and left three years ago. Everyone assumed she was gone for good. But her mate severed their bond, and just like that, she was back. With her tears and her honey-sweet voice, she slotted herself right back into Cain's life.
Cain started "patrolling the territory" every night. Rolling in at two or three in the morning, reeking of pine needles and another woman's scent.
A month ago—the full moon ceremony. The most important night for any pack. The Alpha and Luna were supposed to stand side by side on the ritual stone to lead the rites. I stood alone the entire night. From moonrise to moonset.
Beta Reid showed up close to dawn, a diamond necklace in his hand, looking uncomfortable. "The Alpha's handling an emergency with the Ashford situation. He asked me to give you this."
The next morning, I went to the stream to collect water. Two young she-wolves were crouched by the bank, whispering. "Last night Serena twisted her ankle, so the Alpha stayed with her all night..."
"Seriously? He skipped the full moon ceremony?"
"Of course—Serena was the Luna the Alpha originally chose. If it hadn't been for..."
They spotted me and went silent. Their eyes held that particular mix of pity and schadenfreude. I didn't say a word. Filled my water and left.
That night, I started asking around about the witch. I sat on the windowsill in my room and tipped back the remaining half of the potion. Seventeen days. Then I'd be free.
Chapter 2
The next day, Serena officially moved into our pack house. She said her ex-mate had been stalking her. That she was scared. Cain didn't say a single word to me about it—by the time I got back to the manor, the guest room already had fresh sheets.
"She's someone I grew up with," Cain said, leaning against the doorframe, his tone like he was commenting on the weather. "I can't just watch her get threatened."
I didn't argue. Arguing had never worked in this house.
Serena's first day, she filled the living room with her scented candles. The whole floor reeked so badly it burned your throat. Three years ago, Cain had set the rule himself—"No scented candles in the manor. Ivy's allergic." He'd said it in front of the entire pack, voice leaving no room for debate. Now the house was thick with candle smoke, and Cain walked through the living room without a word.
That evening I went to the kitchen for water and passed the study. The door was open. Cain and Serena sat shoulder to shoulder on the sofa, a territory map spread in front of them. Serena's head rested on his shoulder, her finger tracing lines across the map. She spotted me and immediately waved. "Ivy! Come look—we're planning the fall hunt routes. You handle the medical supplies, right? We should coordinate."
"I need to organize the herb inventory tomorrow," I said. "I'm heading out."
I turned and left before she could respond.
The next morning at breakfast, Serena shoved her phone in Cain's face. On the screen was an old photo—two twelve-year-olds. Serena piggyback on Cain, arms around his neck. Cain's expression screamed annoyance, but he hadn't thrown her off. Serena was laughing so hard she collapsed on the table. "Remember? The day of your first shift, you were so scared you hid in a tree hollow and wouldn't come out. I had to drag you out."
Cain sipped his coffee. "I wasn't hiding. I was scouting the terrain."
"Liar!" Serena slapped the table, cackling.
I stood by the table pouring water. Didn't speak. Cain's gaze swept over to me. His lips moved like he was about to say something. But Serena had already swiped to the next photo, tugging his arm to make him look. Their heads bent together again.
Late that night, Cain pushed open my bedroom door. He smelled entirely of Serena. His hand slid slowly from my waist to my lower belly. I bit my lip. My body arched toward him—I couldn't control it. My wolf had zero resistance to his touch. Cain lowered his head and kissed my neck.
I gagged. My stomach lurched violently. I shoved him away, rolled over, clamped my hand over my mouth, and dry-heaved at the edge of the bed for several seconds.
Cain froze.
"I was handling a batch of toxic roots in the herb garden this afternoon," I managed between breaths. "Might've inhaled some of the dust."
He watched me for a moment. Didn't come closer.
The silence hadn't lasted ten seconds before Serena's voice floated up from downstairs, thick with tears: "Cain! I think there's a rogue outside the garden wall! I heard something!"
Cain didn't hesitate for a single second. He sprang off the bed, grabbed his jacket, and was gone. I heard him rallying guards downstairs, assigning patrol routes. The front door opened and closed.
An hour later, the guards reported back. Nothing outside the wall. No trace of rogues. No footprints. Not even a broken twig.
But Cain didn't come back upstairs for the rest of the night. I woke at some point to a low, soft voice. Cain's. Gentle: "It's okay. No one's going to touch you."
I rolled over to face the wall and closed my eyes.
The next day, Cain showed up in my herb workshop. He was holding a letter—a formal invitation from Healer Laurent, head healer of the Silvercrest Pack, offering me a position as an herbal researcher in the Northern Territory. I'd hidden it at the bottom of my workbench. He'd found it by accident.
"When did you start talking to Silvercrest?" He dropped the letter on the table.
"At the last cross-pack herb exchange. Healer Laurent reviewed a few of my formulas. That letter went out to several she-wolves with herbal training—I wasn't the only one."
Cain stared at me, then pushed the letter back across the table. "Silvercrest is the most powerful pack in the north. There's no way they'd genuinely recruit an Omega for research. You wouldn't survive up there."
He paused, then shifted his tone. "I can make you Blackwood's head herbalist. The entire supply would be yours to manage."
I said nothing. Cain was always like this. Dismissing my work as insignificant with one breath, then chaining it to the Blackwood name with the next. Everything I'd accomplished—every formula, every breakthrough—ended up filed under "Blackwood Pack." No one remembered my name.
I opened my mouth, but before I could speak—the workshop door swung open. Serena walked in wearing one of Cain's dark grey dress shirts, the hem brushing her upper thighs, only the middle two buttons fastened.
"Cain, Ashford sent a courier," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "There are a couple of issues with the alliance terms they need you to finalize by this afternoon. I took a look—two clauses have wording problems. Want to go over them now?"
Cain stood up. Laurent's invitation still lay open on the table. He didn't glance at it again. He walked out of the workshop with Serena, one after the other.
After the door closed, I picked up the letter. Unfolded it. Smoothed it flat. At the very bottom of the response form: "Do you accept the invitation?"
I picked up a pen and checked yes.
Chapter 3
This was Healer Laurent's second invitation. The first had arrived three months ago. Back then, I was still lying to myself—telling myself Cain was just having trouble letting go of his childhood bond with Serena. That he'd come to his senses.
Not anymore.
After mailing back the response, I went home to pack. Four years as Luna, and the things that were actually mine were pitiful—a few old clothes, two herb journals, a mortar ground down to nothing. One old backpack held it all.
In the back of the bedside drawer was a leather cord necklace with a wolf fang strung on it. Cain had tied it around my neck himself the night he marked me. He said the fang was from the first rogue he'd ever killed. Only for his mate.
I put the necklace back in the drawer and closed it.
For the next two weeks, I practically lived in the herb garden. Inventory during the day, handover notes at night. One evening I was crouched in the stockroom, bagging and sealing herb seeds, when the door opened.
Cain stood in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, surveying the walls lined with jars and the dried herb bundles hanging from the drying racks. "You haven't been home in days."
"Stockroom needs inventory." I didn't look up.
He was quiet for a few seconds. "Serena told me her staying at the manor has been making you uncomfortable. She's moving back to Ashford next week. Says it's not appropriate for her to keep staying."
I sealed a bag of evening primrose seeds and stacked it in the crate. "Tell her not to worry about it. I don't care."
Cain's hand tightened on the doorframe. I caught his knuckles going white in my peripheral vision. He stood there. His mouth opened, then closed. I kept my head down, sealing bags. I didn't give him an opening. He left.
Ten days until departure.
My stomach had been off lately. Couldn't keep anything down, and the smell of raw meat made me nauseous. At first I chalked it up to exhaustion and too much exposure to herb dust. But the symptoms kept getting worse.
I went to a small clinic outside town. The old healer pressed her palm flat against my belly, closed her eyes for half a minute, then looked up. "Congratulations. About three months along."
I sat in that clinic in a daze for an hour.
I had to tell Cain. Regardless of everything, this was his child.
When I rushed back to the manor, the guard at the door told me the Alpha had gone out. "Miss Serena wasn't feeling well. The Alpha went with her to see the healer personally."
I went upstairs to my room and waited.
Until my phone screen lit up. Serena had posted something new. The photo showed Cain in profile, his expression so tender he looked like a different person, one hand resting on Serena's belly. Next to it was a prenatal scan—a black-and-white ultrasound image. The caption was a single line: "My Alpha says this is the future heir of the Blackwood Pack."
I stared at the screen as the feeling slowly drained from my fingers.
Ten minutes later, I heard a car door slam downstairs. Through the window, I watched Cain circle from the driver's side, open the passenger door, and help Serena out. His hand cradled her waist, every movement careful, like he was holding something that might shatter.
Then his voice drifted up from the study below—the door wasn't fully closed. He was on the phone with the pack's healer. "She's already three months along. Get me the best supplements there are. Weekly checkups—I'll go with her personally. Whatever she needs, make it happen."
I looked down at the prenatal report in my own hand. The one from the small clinic. I tore it in half and shoved it into the deepest part of my pocket.
I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs, planning to sleep in the herb workshop. At the staircase landing, I ran into Cain. His eyes went to my backpack first, then to my pale face. His expression changed. He reached for me. "What's wrong?"
I stepped back. "A new shipment of raw materials came into the workshop. I need to process them tonight."
Cain stepped forward. His hand hung in the air, like he wanted to grab my arm.
Serena came walking from the direction of the living room, one hand on her belly. When she saw me, she put on a look of concern. "Ivy, you look awful. Want me to have the healer check on you? Pregnant women really need to take care of themselves—" She paused, then covered her mouth with a little laugh. "Oh, sorry—I'm talking about myself."
I looked at Cain. A flash of panic crossed his face. "That's not—"
Serena suddenly sucked in a sharp breath and doubled over, clutching her stomach. "Oh—it hurts—the baby's kicking—"
Cain's attention snapped to her instantly. He stepped forward, gripping Serena's shoulders with one hand, the other covering her belly, head bent, asking where it hurt.
I walked past them, down the stairs, and out the back door. The night air hit me, and I realized I was trembling. The moon was almost full. Less than ten days. Ten days until the bond broke, and I'd be taking the child inside me to a pack I'd never set foot in, working for a healer I'd met twice.
I stood on the back steps, and for the first time, I felt lost.
