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Chapter 4

The dungeon door creaked open, flooding the damp cell with harsh light. I shielded my eyes, wincing at the sudden brightness after days in darkness.

"Diana." Wilder's voice was flat, emotionless. "Come with me."

I staggered to my feet, my legs weak from silver exposure. The burns on my skin had barely begun to heal, leaving angry red welts where the metal had touched me.

"Why?" I asked, my voice raspy from disuse.

He didn't answer, just gripped my arm and pulled me from the cell. His touch, once so comforting, now made my skin crawl.

We walked in silence through the pack house corridors. Pack members stopped to stare, their eyes filled with a mixture of pity and disgust. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, unable to bear their judgment.

Wilder's office door closed behind us with a soft click. The room looked different somehow—colder, more austere. Kaylee's scent lingered in the air, that cloying floral perfume that seemed to follow her everywhere.

"Sit," Wilder commanded, gesturing to a chair across from his desk.

I remained standing. "If this is about the wolfsbane—"

"It's not." He ran a hand through his hair, looking haggard. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his normally immaculate appearance had deteriorated. "It's about Kaylee."

Of course it was.

"The pack healer has diagnosed her condition," he continued, his voice clinical. "It's a genetic fading sickness. Her wolf is dying."

I blinked in surprise. That was impossible. Kaylee's wolf had seemed strong enough when she'd orchestrated my downfall.

"There's only one cure," Wilder said, his golden eyes finally meeting mine. "A bone marrow transplant from a compatible bloodline."

Something cold settled in my stomach as I realized where this was heading.

"You need me to conceive a pup," I whispered.

He nodded once, his expression unflinching. "The healer says the stem cells from a fetus—or a newborn—would be perfect for the transplant."

The room seemed to tilt beneath me. "You want me to bear a child just to harvest its cells?"

"I want you to do your duty," he replied coldly. "To the pack. To me."

"My duty?" The words tasted bitter on my tongue. "What about your duty to me? To our bond?"

"Our bond was a mistake." He looked away, his jaw tightening. "The Moon Goddess has made that clear."

I laughed then, a hollow sound that echoed in the empty room. "And if I refuse?"

His eyes hardened. "You won't."

The threat hung between us, unspoken but clear. He would take what he needed, one way or another.

---

That night, I sat alone in my room—no longer the Luna suite, just a small chamber in the servants' wing. The lock clicked softly as I turned it from the inside.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman who looked back at me. Hollow eyes, gaunt cheeks, the shadow of bruises still visible on my skin.

Wilder would come for me tomorrow. I knew it with bone-deep certainty. He would take what he needed, regardless of my consent.

"There's no escape," I whispered to my reflection.

Unless...

My eyes fell on the silver mirror frame, ornate and heavy. With trembling hands, I lifted it from the wall.

"I'm sorry," I murmured to my wolf, feeling her whimper inside me.

Then, with all my strength, I smashed the mirror against the edge of the dresser. Glass shattered, scattering across the floor like diamonds.

I picked up a large shard, its edge jagged and deadly. Silver, but I had no choice.

From my pocket, I pulled out a leather belt and bit down hard on it. The taste of leather filled my mouth as I positioned the glass shard against my neck.

"Just like this," I whispered, pressing harder.

The pain was blinding, immediate and overwhelming. Blood poured down my chest as I carefully—methodically—destroyed the scent glands that marked me as a werewolf.

Tears streamed down my face, mixing with blood. The leather belt muffled my screams as I worked, destroying the chemical link that allowed werewolves to track one another.

When it was done, I collapsed onto the floor, bleeding heavily but determined.

---

The forest blurred around me as I ran, my feet slipping on wet leaves and mud. Blood still seeped from my neck wound, but the mud I'd rubbed into it would mask my scent.

Blackwood Cliffs loomed ahead, their sheer faces gleaming in the moonlight. Below, the river roared, its waters black and inviting.

Behind me, howls echoed through the trees. Wilder's trackers had found my trail despite my best efforts.

I reached the edge just as a massive golden wolf burst through the tree line. Wilder's wolf form was magnificent even now—powerful muscles rippling beneath golden fur, eyes blazing with panic and rage.

He shifted instantly, his human form emerging in a fluid motion.

"Diana!" he roared, lunging toward me. "Don't you dare!"

I looked into his eyes—those golden eyes I'd once loved beyond reason—and felt nothing but emptiness.

"I reject you," I whispered, the words carrying on the wind.

Then I turned and flung myself backward into the void.

The last thing I heard was Wilder's howl of agony as our bond snapped like a thread cut by fate's scissors.

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