Chapter 101 Break the Bond
Aelira’s POV
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I awaken abruptly, my skin still alive with the phantom sensation of a powerful Alpha’s embrace. Daelor’s deep voice reverberates in my mind, possessive and confident: “You are mine, little wolf, no
matter whether you accept it or not.”
The dream feels so vivid that I find myself checking the empty space next to me, half–expecting to see
him there. My wolf shifts restlessly beneath the surface.
“This is absurd,” I murmur to myself, running my fingers through my unruly chestnut hair.
I hold Oriana responsible for planting these notions. Her constant comments about Daelor and me
clearly affect my subconscious. What other explanation could there be for such a strikingly vivid
dream?
In the kitchen, I quickly prepare a simple breakfast of moon–seared toast, my thoughts still scattered
from the lingering imagery. The calendar on my refrigerator stares back at me, today’s date highlighted
in red.
It’s the day to break the mate bond.
The sound of my mobile phone ringing jolts me, causing me to almost drop my toast. Alarion’s name
lights up the screen.
“Hello?” I respond, regretting the uncertainty in my voice.
“Aelira,” Alarion’s tone remains cool and indifferent. “I’m calling to confirm our meeting at the Unified
Land Registry. It’s scheduled for ten o’clock.”
“I’m aware,” I reply, fighting to maintain a neutral tone.
“Make sure you aren’t late. The process can take a while, and I have other obligations this afternoon.”
Naturally, he does. It’s likely that he’s busy with final arrangements for his marking ceremony with
Cyrinne.
“I’ll arrive on time,” I assure him, quickly ending the call.
My wolf whines nervously as I hurry to prepare myself. After three years connected to Alarion’s wolf, today marks the end of that bond. I should feel relieved, but instead, my stomach twists with anxiety.
Traffic is heavier than I anticipated, and I find myself gripping the steering wheel tightly while maneuvering through the gridlock. The last thing I want is to arrive late today of all days.
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I reach the Unified Land Registry with only a few minutes to spare, pushing through the imposing glass doors. The building, designed with silver–infused architecture to honor werewolf traditions, always
makes me feel small.
Alarion stands waiting, positioned near a large lunar calendar that occupies the waiting area. He looks leaner than when I last saw him, his amber eyes cold and distant. He stands rigidly, the familiar Thunder Pack emblem on his tailored jacket shining under the lights.
“You’re late,” he greets me.
“I’m right on time,” I respond, pointedly glancing at the clock.
We sit at opposite ends of a bench, the silence between us heavy with unspoken thoughts. His wolf’s scent reveals a mixture of emotions–anger, regret, and perhaps even sadness–that his carefully controlled expression fails to convey.
My phone buzzes with a text. Daelor’s name displays on the screen.
“How’s the mate bond severance going? About to start preparations for the marking ceremony. See
attached.”
A selfie follows–Daelor dressed in formal attire, the Nightshade Pack emblem clearly visible on his
jacket. His silver–gray eyes seem to pierce right through the screen at me, and my wolf unexpectedly
reacts with an unfamiliar surge of something. I quickly avert my gaze, perplexed by my reaction.
“Daelor Briarhallow,” Alarion’s voice disrupts the silence. “I’ve heard some rumors.”
I don’t respond, placing my phone back in my pocket.
“I know you’ve stepped down from Verdant Moon,” he presses on. “Cyrinne mentioned an incident.”
“Really?” I reply coolly.
“I’ve cautioned her to keep her distance from you,” he states, as if he’s conferring a significant favor.
A cold smile blossoms on my lips. He has no idea what’s coming. Cyrinne Wynthor will pay for her part in my mother’s death, and Alarion will witness the disintegration of his seemingly perfect new life.
“Riven–Sunmere,” a voice calls out, interrupting our charged exchange.
The Unified Land Registry, a serious–looking she–wolf with silver–streaked hair, motions for us to move forward. “This way for your mate bond severance.”
Once inside the stark office, the process unfolds with surprising efficiency. Silver–infused documents are laid before us, glowing softly to signify their importance under werewolf law.
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“Please sign here,” the officer instructs, her tone strictly professional. “And here. This acknowledges the mutual agreement to terminate all responsibilities and rights associated with the mate bond.”
My hand shakes just a little as I sign my name. Alarion follows suit, gripping his pen so tightly that it
nearly rips through the paper.
“And these last documents finalize all pack affiliations and residency claims,” she goes on, pushing
another stack of papers towards us.
Each signature feels like another lock clicking open, another chain dropping away. Upon signing the final paper, I feel a noticeable relief wash over me. My wolf, which has remained dormant under
Alarion’s indifference for so long, begins to feel bolder within me.
“The severance is now complete,” the officer announces, placing an official silver seal on the
documents. “You are legally unbonded now.”
Three years of my life condensed and concluded in just fifteen minutes of paperwork.
“A copy will be submitted to the Unified Land Registry and forwarded to your respective packs,” she
adds, handing each of us a sealed envelope. “Have a good day.”
In the hallway, I take my first breath as an unbonded she–wolf after three years. It tastes like liberation.
I make my way toward the exit, eager to close this chapter of my life, but Alarion’s voice halts me right
before I reach my car.
“Aelira,” he calls, his tone unexpectedly hesitant.
I turn to face him one last time. “What is it, Alarion?”
“Is that all?” he questions, his amber eyes searching mine. “Three years together, and we just break up
like that?”
The nerve of his query after months of neglect stirs a flame of anger within me. My wolf stirs
restlessly beneath my skin.
“What did you expect?” I confront him. “That I’d celebrate your marking ceremony with Cyrinne?”
The term ‘marking‘ seems to hit him hard. His wolf’s scent shifts in disbelief.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” he finally replies.
“There’s nothing left to say,” I tell him as I enter my car.
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I drive away, watching Alarion Riven shrink in my rearview mirror. Once, that sight would have
devastated me. Now, I feel only relief.
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I pull over briefly to text Daelor. “I’m coming.”
Lake Restaurant Lodge rises on the horizon, its grand design meant to impress even the most
powerful werewolves. As I near, I notice a line of enforcer wolves at the entrance, their strong figures forming an intimidating barrier.
A crowd of pack representatives from all over the territory has already gathered. High–end vehicles adorned with different pack emblems are arranged in an impressive formation, dropping off
werewolves dressed in formal attire. Attendees exchange whispers and nods of recognition as they
identify prominent figures.
My modest car feels woefully out of place amidst this display of affluence and authority. At the
security checkpoint, a well–built enforcer wolf approaches, his nose crinkling slightly at my scent.
“Invitation?” he inquires, clearly recognizing my difference from the other guests.
I pull the formal card from my purse, the Nightshade Pack emblem shining in silver embossing.
Daelor’s name is elegantly scripted underneath.
“I’m here as Alpha Briarhallow’s guest,” I clarify, my voice steadier than I feel.
The enforcer’s attitude shifts immediately. “Certainly, Miss. You may proceed to the main entrance.”
Inside the lavish venue, crystal chandeliers illuminate the gathering werewolves with a soft glow. I pause and absorb the atmosphere while reaching for my mobile phone to call Daelor.
Before I can make the call, a voice sharply breaks in from behind me, laced with disbelief.
“Aelira Sunmere? What on earth are you doing at Cyrinne’s marking ceremony?”
The tone carries a growl of shock and indignation, causing heads to turn in our direction.
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