Chapter 2

Elliott’s breath caught. But he didn’t press for details.

“…Understood. Keep the link open. Wait for my word.”

I sank back against the cold chair, staring blankly at the wolf-head statue on the training grounds—the symbol of a warrior’s glory. This tribe, this cage built from my blood and loyalty, would soon have nothing to do with me.

The cut on my palm throbbed faintly. The hollowed-out place in my chest was colder still.

When I shut my eyes, there was only darkness—and, within it, every detail I’d forced myself to ignore for five years, now rising sharp and clear.

Five years ago, the three of us completed our coming-of-age rite together.

With thunderous drums and the pack’s cheers, I stood at the edge of the altar, wearing the wolfskin cloak of adulthood. My palm was damp with sweat—excitement and anticipation. Firelight washed over me. Below were familiar faces, the elders’ approving gazes, and Fitch at the very front in ceremonial finery, holding the scepter.

We’d promised each other: after the rite, we’d become mates.

After the High Priest set the circlet of the Alpha heir on Fitch’s brow, he accepted the bone staff that symbolized power and swept his gaze over the crowd. My heart hammered like it wanted to burst out of my chest.

“Today,” he began, his voice low and forceful, carrying an authority that demanded submission, “is the most important day of my life.” His eyes fixed on one direction—just not mine. “The most important person in my life is here.”

Shy, I lowered my head, ready for my moment.

“Alyssa,” he said clearly, like a bolt of thunder splitting the noise, “you are the purest, most precious moonlight in my life.”

I jerked my head up, staring at him in disbelief. The bonfire light followed as he walked straight to Alyssa, who stood slightly behind and to my side. He dropped to one knee and raised a bone ring set with a moonstone.

“I ask you to be my mate. Let me protect you for life, and let you forever bathe in glory.”

The crowd erupted. Every gaze on the altar—on Fitch and Alyssa—snapped to me, stunned. Shock. Pity. Gloating. They pierced into me like countless barbs.

I felt skinned and thrown onto snow. The humiliation and heartbreak stole my breath.

Even the fiercest enemy had never left me this helpless.

They had been the people I trusted most.

Alyssa covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide, as if she were even more shocked than I was. She looked up in panic, innocent and flustered. “Fitch?! Oh my God! What is this? What are you saying?!”

She turned to me, her voice trembling with tears. “Priscilla! You have to believe me! I really didn’t know—”

The world collapsed and spun. I fled that suffocating altar on pure instinct.

A week later, I haunted my house like a ghost. The knocking came again and again. I ignored it all, until Fitch’s hoarse, pained voice sounded from outside the door: “Priscilla! Please open up! Let me explain! I know I deserve death!”

In the end, I opened the door. He stood there disheveled, eyes sunken.

“Priscilla!” He rushed in, grabbing my wrist so hard it hurt. His voice broke. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I made a terrible mistake! With Alyssa—I was confused for a moment. I misunderstood what I felt for you. I thought it was only comradeship. I thought she was my true love—”

He sank to one knee, looking up at me as tears slid down his cheeks. “But I’ve figured it out now—only you, Priscilla. Only you are the meaning of my life. Let me spend a lifetime atoning, proving my love!”

I watched the tears in his eyes. I listened to his earnest pleas. And in my despair, my shattered heart sparked with a pitiful sliver of hope.

Maybe… maybe he really had just lost his way for a moment? Maybe he truly regretted it?

Alyssa appeared outside my door too, eyes swollen and red.

She threw her arms around me, sobbing so hard she shook. “Priscilla! I’m sorry! I really didn’t know this would happen! Don’t blame Fitch—he was confused. It’s all my fault!”

Between sobs, she said, “Seeing you two like this because of me… I’d rather be dead. You know I’ve always blessed you… Please believe me.”

Her tears and “sincere” declarations were like a veil, briefly smothering my doubts. Looking at her “self-blame,” I softened. I chose to “forgive.”

Only now did I remember the moonlight flowers Fitch had brought then—symbols of betrayal and false defeat. I’d been foolish enough to overlook those details and kept going, becoming Fitch’s mate. Alyssa attended our bonding ceremony as my witness.

Even my brother—far away with the hunter organization—had fiercely opposed it, but in the end he couldn’t bend my stubbornness.

Back then I believed life had returned to normal: the tribe’s approval, my mate’s company, my friend’s blessings.

Except… the life after bonding always held a strange distance. Except for that first night, Fitch was so often restrained, so detached.

Every time I returned from battle, flushed with victory and a small, hungry longing, and I leaned toward Fitch lying beside me, my fingers testing the hard plane of his chest—

His body would stiffen unmistakably. Then, gently but firmly, he’d catch my wrist and draw my hand away.

“My dear,” his voice would murmur in the dark, still gentle yet edged with unbreakable distance, “you’re too precious. Like the sharpest blade—you deserve the perfect moment to be drawn.”

He would turn over, his gentle face blurred in shadow. “I don’t want to ruin this purity in haste. And I don’t want you to suffer through childbirth. Wait a little longer, okay? Until we—until a perfect moment.”

I would freeze there, hand suspended awkwardly in the air, and force a smile. “Okay.”

And my heart would sink, inch by inch. Again. Ever since our bonding, every time I tried to get close, he had a perfect reason to refuse—“cherishing,” “the perfect moment,” “spiritual compatibility.” Those ornate excuses were layers of ice, wrapping him, separating him from me.

And then there was that tribal gathering. I’d meticulously polished new armor, wanting to show it off. Alyssa “accidentally” spilled paint across it.

“Oh my God! Priscilla! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she babbled, fumbling to wipe it away. “I’m so clumsy. This armor is your glory—I should repay you.”

I swallowed my anger. Before I could speak, Fitch stepped in to smooth things over, his tone carrying a faint, barely hidden rebuke. “It’s fine. Priscilla won’t mind. Right, Priscilla?”

He looked at me, telling me with his eyes to be “magnanimous.” The pack’s gazes around us held approving praise, as if taking offense would be my fault.

After that, again and again, I’d feel Fitch speak for her at certain moments. He’d say, “It’s my fault she’s been ostracized. I should make it up to her,” and, “Priscilla, I just want you to be as perfect in the tribe’s eyes as you are in mine.”

Those plausible words fooled me over and over. Now they were poisoned daggers, stabbing my already tattered heart in memory.

I snapped my eyes open, gulping air like I’d just dragged myself up from deep water. Cold sweat soaked my back. The cut in my palm stung as my muscles tightened.

It wasn’t in my head. Never had been.

Fitch—he’d known the truth from the start. He chose me only to give Alyssa a “safe” cover identity, so she could avoid accusations of “half-blood inferiority.”

He used the lie of “cherishing” to hide his indifference and rejection. He worked with Alyssa to shape me, step by step, into a “war-hungry,” “cold,” “unromantic,” even “jealous” shrew in the tribe’s eyes.

And me? I’d been a complete fool—blinded by their performance for five years, feeding their hypocrisy and schemes with all my love and loyalty.

And the moment the truth finally detonated was not far off.