Chapter 2

Freya POV:

The silence that followed my public declaration was a living thing, thick and suffocating. Alan's golden Alpha eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in fury. But I didn't stay to see the fallout. I turned and walked out of the hall, ignoring the stunned gasps and frantic whispers that followed me.

Later, much later, Alan came to our chambers. I was sitting by the window, watching the moon cast long shadows across the training grounds. He came up behind me, his familiar scent of pine and winter air wrapping around me. He tried to put his arms around my waist, a gesture he performed out of habit, not affection.

I flinched away as if his touch were fire. His hands dropped. For the first time, he felt the icy wall I had erected between us. Our mate bond, which should have been a warm, comforting river, was now a frozen wasteland.

"Freya," he began, his voice low.

"Don't," I said, my own voice hollow.

I didn't sleep. All night, my mind was a chaotic storm of well-wishes from pack members, their mental voices a confusing mix of birthday congratulations and awkward pity. "Happy birthday, Luna." "Are you alright, Luna?" "The Alpha seems... upset." Everyone sent a message. Everyone except my mate.

The next morning, I sat at the long dining table, pushing food around my plate. Alan entered, already dressed in his leather tunic for the day's duties. He looked at the dark circles under my eyes, a flicker of something-annoyance? guilt?-in his gaze.

"Didn't you sleep well?" he asked, his tone casual, as if last night had been nothing more than a bad dream.

I looked up, meeting his eyes directly. My voice was flat, devoid of all emotion. "Today is our bonding anniversary."

He froze, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. A brief flash of panic crossed his face before he masked it with his usual indifference. "I've already had the steward deliver this year's tribute to your treasury," he said dismissively. "Go buy yourself whatever you like."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He thought jewels and gold could mend a shattered soul. My mocking gaze seemed to unnerve him, striking a chord deep within his Alpha instincts, making him defensive and irritable.

He fell back on his oldest, most reliable shield. Fiona. His voice hardened, taking on the edge of the Alpha's Command, a tone meant to brook no argument. "Fiona is different. Her wolf was traumatized as a child. She has no one but me."

The pack knew the story by heart. On her eighteenth birthday, the day a werewolf is meant to have their first shift, a fire destroyed Fiona's family castle. Her parents died protecting her, and the trauma supposedly left her wolf spirit broken, too fragile to ever complete a full transformation. It was a tragedy that won her endless sympathy.

I remembered hearing that story five years ago. I had believed it. I had believed in the Moon Goddess's plan. I had accepted our bonding ceremony, thinking my love and the strength of a fated bond could heal his misplaced sense of duty.

Now, I knew better. The Goddess hadn't given me a gift. She had chained me to a curse. And if I had known then what I know now, I would have run from this castle and never looked back. The pain of rejecting a fated mate would have been nothing compared to the slow, agonizing death of the last five years.