“No.” I turned to them. “I’m not that frightened girl anymore. If this is what it takes to save the Rustpire, then I’ll bond with Marcellus Ashenfell.”
I lay in my childhood den, surrounded by the familiar scents of cedarwood and moon lilies that once meant safety. The enchanted silk pelts whispered against my skin as I stared at the carved ceiling, tracing the same lunar sigils I’d memorized as a pup.
Everything felt different now—sharper, more defined. Agreeing to bond with Marcellus no longer felt like surrender. After Axton’s betrayal, it felt like reclaiming my power.
My moonstone communicator pulsed. Axton’s name glowed red. My stomach tightened, but I answered.
“Enjoying your little pity party?” His voice was thick with ale. “Or did you already find some stray wolf to rut with?”
The disgust rose like poison. This was the male I’d abandoned my birth-pack for? The one I thought cherished me?
“Where I roam is no longer your concern.” My tone was ice. “We meet tomorrow before the Elders. Don’t be late.”
I cut the link before he could snarl another word and immediately contacted our pack’s legal envoy.