SYLRA’S POV
“Rovan!”
He charged like a storm, fists clenched, eyes burning. Caelan hadn’t even recovered from the punch before Rovan was lunging again.
I stepped between them, shoving Rovan backward with both hands, hard enough to make him stumble.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snapped, chest heaving.
He pointed past me at Caelan, his voice loud enough to draw stares. “Tell him to stop staring at my wife like she’s already his.”
The world froze.
The chatter around the summit courtyard silenced like someone had flipped a switch.
Wife.
Gasps echoed.
I felt the weight of every eye snap toward me.
My stomach dropped, then twisted into a slow, coiled knot of fury.
I turned back to the guards. “Get him out of here.”
Two of them immediately stepped forward and grabbed Rovan’s arms.
“Don’t touch me,” he barked, struggling against them, but I raised my hand, and they didn’t hesitate. They dragged him through the corridor, past the stunned summit onlookers, and toward the outer gates.
Just then, my father stepped out from the grand entrance of the palace, frowning.
“What’s going on?” King Maelric asked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
I turned to him, head held high. “Nothing, Father. He was just leaving.”
He looked past me at Rovan being escorted, his brows pulling low.
I turned to the guard. “Make sure he doesn’t come back without royal permission.”
The guards nodded.
The crowd slowly dispersed, whispers buzzing like wasps.
I glanced at Caelan.
He hadn’t moved from where he was standing and he was still watching me.
His voice came low. “You were his wife?”
I took a breath and looked him in the eye.
“Not anymore.”
I led him away from the courtyard, needing air, needing quiet. The crowd’s energy clung to me like smoke, heavy and suffocating.
We stopped near the far edge of the training grounds, where moonlight spilled across the empty field.
Caelan didn’t speak at first. He just stood beside me, hands tucked behind his back, his jaw tight.
Then—
“What did you mean? Not anymore?”
I looked down at my hands. They were shaking slightly, though I wished they weren’t.
“I meant what I said,” I replied. “I’m no longer his mate. I broke the bond.”
Caelan turned to face me fully. “Why?”
My laugh was bitter, quiet. “You don’t want that story.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
I looked at him. The steadiness in his expression made it hard to hide behind silence.
So I told him.
I told him about Blackmaw.
About how Rovan’s mother and sister had treated me like dirt the moment I stepped foot onto pack land. How they mocked me for being a weak wolf. For being mate-chosen by a bond they never respected. How Rovan did nothing. Said nothing. Not once.
I told him about the lonely nights, the cold silences, the public humiliation when Rovan announced he was taking another mate without even bothering to end our bond properly.
“He took Elene as his second mate,” I said, voice low. “And I was expected to smile. To stand beside him like my heart wasn’t being crushed.”
Caelan’s fists clenched at his sides.
“So I left. I broke the bond. It nearly killed me, but I did it.”
He didn’t speak for a long time.
Then, finally—“Do you still love him?”
The question sliced through me.
My lips parted.
Nothing came out.
I turned away.
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“But it matters,” he said, stepping closer. “You might not think it does, but it does. For you. For me.”
“For you?” I asked, spinning back toward him, confused and defensive. “Why do you care about what I feel for Rovan?”
He hesitated.
Then his eyes met mine, sharp, direct, and unblinking.
“Because if you’re not still in love with him…”
He stepped closer, and my pulse jumped.
“I want you to know that I’m interested in you, Sylra.”
I froze.
Everything in me stilled.
My jaw dropped.
I stared at him, utterly stunned.
“You—what?”
His voice was calm, sure. “You heard me.”
