_Zarelle’s POV_

The messages glowing on my phone screen might as well have been claws raking down my spine—each word a fresh wound.

[Thessaly’s at the clinic. Blood binding required. You know your duty. Oak Clinic. Now.]

[Where the hell are you, Zarelle? Fifteen minutes late.]

[Compensation increased to $ 100 K. Check your account.]

[Zarelle Stormy. Present yourself to the healers within twenty. A pact is a pact.]

My fingers trembled as I scrolled through Calden’s texts, my knuckles bleaching white around the phone. There was no warmth like a husband in his tone—just the sharp, icy command of an Alpha addressing his lowest-ranked wolf. A disposable Omega.

That was all I was in this arrangement.

Him: the untouchable Alpha.

Me: the pack’s bottom-tier shadow.

We'd been married for three years. He barely touched me, even when we shared a room. Never let our scents entwine unless necessity demanded it. And he made sure I never forgot my place—anytime, anywhere.

Three times this moon cycle, I’d dragged myself to the healing den, offering up my blood, my strength. Each donation left me hollowed out, my body trembling on the edge of collapse. But Calden didn’t care.

“Suck it up. A pact is a pact.” His favorite refrain.

To Alpha Calden Ashmoor, I wasn’t his Luna. Just a living blood bank for the woman he actually loved—a resource contractually bound to keep her alive. The only thing I was good for? The money.

And when he wasn’t drowning in pack politics? He was at her side.

Thessaly Ashmoor. The reason I’d been shackled to them in the first place. His fated mate, who married his elder brother for the title of Luna, yet became a widow in the end.

Three years ago, an accident. An emergency transfusion. The elders saw their chance in my rare blood: Secure the blood. Secure the power. Strike the deal.

And like a fool, I’d signed my marriage away.

"You want to be my chosen mate?"

Three years ago, in the pack’s makeshift infirmary, I had stared into Calden’s glacial gaze. The world had narrowed to the sound of his voice—deep, commanding, leaving no room for negotiation.

I lifted my chin and nodded.

"We’ll mate for the pack’s sake," he said, each word a blade. "But you’re her donor first. When Thessaly needs you, you come. In return, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Financially."

I had said yes. Fool that I was, I’d actually believed I could defy the bond between them—that somehow, I’d become more than just a tool. That I could make him want me.

Three years later, and nothing had changed. Every time Thessaly was hurt, I was summoned like a servant, drained until I could barely stand.

But no more.

I was done.

I slid into the car, my fingers tightening around the wheel—until my phone buzzed again. Not Calden this time.

An unsigned message. A photo.

My breath caught.

Even in sleep, Calden looked like a god carved from shadow and steel. His features were sharp enough to cut—a jawline that could have drawn blood, lashes dark as midnight, that mouth made for cruelty or sin

though I’d never tasted either

. His body was a weapon, all broad shoulders and coiled strength, even in repose.

And there she was. Thessaly.

Her head rested against his shoulder, her lips curved in a smirk even in sleep. Victorious.

Calden lounged in an old maroon chair, arms crossed, every inch the untouchable Alpha. At ease. At home. With her.

The message beneath was a poison-tipped dagger:

"This is how true mates rest together. Know your place, bloodbag."

The provocation fueled my vein. I should've snarled back, but accidentally flicked to my camera, freezing at the ghost staring back at me.

Thessaly wasn’t wrong.

My reflection was a hollowed-out mockery of the woman I’d once been—lips bloodless, skin stretched too thin over sharpening bones. Dark smudges bruised beneath my eyes, a fatigue too deep to blame on blood loss alone. Every time I gave part of myself to Thessaly, something inside me withered.

Was this why Calden’s gaze never lingered? Why I was only ever worth his attention when duty demanded it?

Thessaly was fire and temptation, all lush curves and rose-bitten lips, her gaze heavy with the confidence of a woman who’d never been denied.

And me? I was the afterthought. The shadow clinging to the edges of their story.

How did I end up like this? If loving him was just making me a faded soul, then it's time to give up.

Let them have each other.

The car jerked to a stop outside the hospital. I didn’t wait for the driver—just shoved the door open and strode toward Thessaly’s private ward, my pulse a ragged drumbeat in my throat.

The door burst open before I could knock.

Pine. Earth. Alpha.

The scent hit me like a physical blow, primal and intoxicating, and my inner wolf cowered before I could stop her.

Calden filled the doorway, his tailored suit doing nothing to disguise the predator beneath. When his gaze landed on me, annoyance flashed—then hardened into fury as he spotted the phone clutched in my unsteady grip.

"Your phone works." His voice was a whip-crack, icy enough to frost the air between us. "Then why the hell didn't you reply to my texts and calls? The pack's healers are waiting."

His scent flooded my lungs—pine and winter and dominance—as I seared his face into memory. The ruthless cut of his jaw, the predator’s gaze that could bend entire packs to his will, the corded muscle of his forearms where his rolled-up sleeves revealed tattoos marking every territory he’d conquered.

This would be the last time.

He moved like lightning, fingers clamping around my wrist hard enough to bruise. "Blood transfusion. Now."

"I know." The words barely escaped the roar of blood in my ears. I braced against the couch, my muscles locking. No more obedient Omega. No more silent suffering.

Calden’s mouth curled in a snarl. "Then why are you still standing here?"

Ancient pack legends whispered through my mind—stories of lone wolves who’d torn out their own bonds rather than live as slaves. My pulse hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

"I’ll go." My voice didn’t shake. "I’ll give her my blood. But I want something first."

He shoved a hand through his hair; his patience was on the edge. "Money’s already in your account." A dismissive gesture toward his phone. "Check it and move."

"Not money." The words cracked like thin ice.

"Then what?" His Alpha command vibrated through the room, rattling the glassware. "Out with it."

I met his gaze without flinching.

"Sever our bond." The air turned to knives in my throat. "I want a divorce, Calden Ashmoor.”