Chapter 1

I stood motionless in Michael's ornate office, my gaze fixed on the intricate pattern of the Persian rug beneath my feet. The familiar scent of sandalwood and pine that once brought me comfort now made my stomach churn. Eight times. Eight times we had done this dance, and each time, I had begged, pleaded, cried until my throat was raw. But not today.

"I, Michael Crawford, Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, reject you, Olivia Reed, as my mate and Luna." His voice carried that unmistakable Alpha tone, pressing down on me like a physical weight, attempting to force me to my knees as it had so many times before.

I remained standing.

A flicker of surprise crossed his handsome face—those green eyes that once made my heart race now seemed like polished glass, beautiful but empty. He continued the ritual, each word of the rejection formula slicing through what remained of our bond.

"Your presence is no longer required in my bed or by my side. The pack will no longer recognize you as Luna until I choose to reclaim you."

Until I choose to reclaim you. The same empty promise he'd made seven times before. The same words that had once given me desperate hope now rang hollow in my ears.

Michael stepped closer, his familiar scent washing over me. I used to dream of that scent—forest after rainfall with hints of amber. Now it just smelled like betrayal.

"Kneel," he commanded, his Alpha tone making the windows rattle.

For the first time in eight rejections, I didn't drop to my knees. My wolf, usually whimpering and desperate to please her mate, was eerily silent within me.

Michael's eyes flashed red. "I said kneel."

"No," I whispered, the single word barely audible but somehow filling the entire room.

His hand shot out, gripping my shoulder hard enough to bruise as he forced me down. I didn't fight it. I simply let my body fold, conserving my strength for what would come next.

He bent down, his breath hot against my neck where his mating mark scarred my skin. "You know how this works, Olivia. Victoria is back. When she leaves again, I'll come for you. I always do."

Then his teeth sank into my neck, not the loving bite of a mate but the cruel dismissal of an Alpha severing a bond. Pain radiated from the mark, but I didn't cry out. I felt something inside me—something that had been stretched thin and rewoven seven times before—finally snap clean.

The door burst open without a knock. Victoria Pearson strode in, her blonde hair cascading over shoulders draped in shimmering silver fabric—the ceremonial Luna robe I'd been saving for over a year. The one I'd admired in the pack marketplace, working extra shifts in the kitchens to earn enough coins.

"Is it done?" Victoria asked, not bothering to look at me still kneeling on the floor. Her eyes were only for Michael, hungry and possessive.

"It's done," Michael confirmed, wiping a drop of my blood from his lip.

Victoria's gaze finally fell on me, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk. "Good. I need you to clear out the master bedroom. I want all your pathetic little trinkets gone by sunset." She ran her hand over the Luna robe, making sure I noticed how the moonstone beading caught the light. "A real Luna needs her space."

I rose to my feet without Michael's permission, my legs steady despite the burning pain in my neck. "I'll get my things," I said, my voice devoid of the hysteria that had marked my previous rejections.

Michael's brow furrowed. He'd expected tears, begging, perhaps even another suicide attempt like after the sixth rejection. My calm seemed to unsettle him more than any outburst could have.

I gathered the few belongings I kept in his office—a small healing journal I'd once used before becoming an Omega, a pressed moonflower he'd given me during our third reconciliation, a silver hairpin that had belonged to my mother. All fit into my pockets. How little space eight years of love took up.

As I walked through the pack house toward the Omega quarters, whispers followed me like shadows.

"There she goes again."

"How many times is that now?"

"Did you hear she was sleeping with rogues while he was at the Northern border?"

"Pathetic how she keeps crawling back."

Their words should have cut deep. They always had before. But something had changed inside me. The bond that had kept me tethered to Michael, that had made me endure humiliation after humiliation, felt different now. Not broken—it had been broken and repaired too many times to count—but altered somehow.

I reached for the thread of our mind-link, that tenuous connection that remained even after rejection. For seven rejections, I had clung to it like a lifeline. This time, I imagined it as a cord in my hands, and with deliberate focus, I severed it completely.

Miles away, I felt Michael's sudden start of surprise.

That night, I sat alone by the river that marked the eastern boundary of Silver Moon territory. The full moon reflected on the water's surface, rippling and distorted. My wolf howled inside me, a mournful sound that echoed across the water. But as the last echoes of Michael's presence faded from my mind, something unexpected happened.

For the first time in eight years, I could breathe.