"And that's a problem? Two moons ago, when you were helping him through his rut-fever, didn't you say it was a shame you could never give him a proper place at your side?"
I watched her face drain of color until she stood frozen like a statue carved from pale stone.
I took back the memorial items, my emotions so steady it was as if nothing had happened.
She hovered at my ear, babbling explanations—claiming she didn't love him, that she only felt responsible because they had shared a rut-bond. Her sickening words crumbled against my silence.
After that day, she stopped visiting me.
But I often saw Dorian's posts on the pack's message board. He was showing off images of them together—the three of them posing for portrait after portrait in every style imaginable. A perfect little family.
On the day she emerged from her birthing confinement, the entire Valeheart household gathered to celebrate the bastard pup's First Moon Feast.
The Matriarch sent word that my Bond Severance documents would be finalized by tomorrow.
When I returned to collect my belongings, I found that the cozy den we had once shared as mates had been completely transformed to match Dorian's tastes.