Bab 3: Chapter 3

My lips curl in a smile: "Very well. If she craves , I'll yield them."

My future plans no longer smell of his musk.

But my alpha misreads my submission as defiance, his brow furrowing: "Clara, can't you show grace? A simple apology shouldn't spark a war."

Confusion gnaws at me.

He got what he wanted—so why does his aura still roil with anger?

Caleb slams the door: "Don't come crawling back, disgraced and begging."

Never again.

His gaze skims past the trunk at my bedside, blind to the obvious.

To keep me from disrupting the ritual, he chains the door with wards.

Five winters I've worn this courtship token, a wolftooth carved by his first hunt.

Daily I polished it with my scent, but now its surface dulls, like the love it once symbolized. Juliet wanted a seaside mating, so Caleb chose this manor by the Lunar Cliffs.

Beyond the window, waves crash against moonlit rocks. With a snarl, I fling the token into the surf. It vanishes in a splash.