Aria's POV
The moment Damien's hand touches mine, I know something is wrong.
His fingers are cold. Not the nervous kind of cold—the I don't want to touch you kind. My wolf whimpers inside my chest, a quiet warning I've been ignoring for months.
Three hundred pack members fill the grand hall behind us. Their excited whispers echo off the marble walls. Someone's crying happy tears. Probably my mom. The scent of roses and magic hangs thick in the air—traditional wolf wedding ceremonies always smell like this, like promises and forever.
I'm wearing the dress I picked out six years ago, when Damien first chose me as his mate. White silk that cost more than my entire childhood. My hands shake as I hold the ceremonial flowers.
This should be the happiest day of my life.
So why does my stomach feel like it's full of broken glass?
Alpha Marcus, Damien's father, stands between us in his ceremonial robes. He's smiling, but his eyes are hard when they land on me. He's never liked me. Said I was too soft to be Luna of the Silvercrest Pack.
"We gather under the full moon," Marcus begins, his voice carrying through the hall, "to witness the binding of Alpha Damien Silvercrest and Aria Whitlock."
My heart pounds so loud I can barely hear him. Through our half-formed mate bond, I feel Damien's emotions—but they're all wrong. There's no joy. No excitement. Just... cold determination.
Like he's about to do something he planned.
"Damien," Marcus continues, turning to his son. "Do you accept this woman as your mate, your Luna, your partner for all your days?"
This is it. The moment I've been waiting for since I was eighteen years old. Since the first time Damien smiled at me and said I was special. Since he promised me forever.
Damien looks at me.
His green eyes—the ones I used to get lost in—are empty.
"I reject you, Aria Whitlock."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I actually stumble backward, my flowers dropping to the floor. Someone in the crowd gasps. Then another. Then everyone is talking at once, shocked voices rising like a wave.
"What?" I whisper. My brain can't process what just happened. "Damien, what are you—"
"You're not strong enough to be my Luna." His voice is loud, clear, meant for everyone to hear. "You never were. I've been fooling myself, thinking you'd grow into the role. But you're weak, Aria. The pack needs a real leader beside me, not someone who cries when wolves argue during pack meetings."
Each word is a knife. The mate bond between us—already fragile because we haven't completed the claiming ceremony—starts to crack. I feel it like bones breaking inside my chest.
"Damien, please." I reach for him, but he steps back. Away from me. Like I'm something disgusting. "We can talk about this. If you need me to be stronger, I can—"
"You can't change what you are." He turns to face the crowd. "I, Damien Silvercrest, Alpha of the Silvercrest Pack, formally reject Aria Whitlock as my mate."
The bond shatters.
I scream. I can't help it. The pain is everywhere—in my chest, my head, my bones. It feels like someone reached inside me and tore out half my soul. My wolf, who's been a part of me since I was thirteen, makes a sound I've never heard before.
A sound of something dying.
I collapse on the altar steps. My white dress pools around me like spilled milk. Through my tears, I see Damien's expensive shoes as he walks past me. He doesn't even look back.
The crowd is chaos. People are shouting, crying, demanding explanations. I hear my mother screaming my name. But I can't move. Can't breathe. The pain where the bond used to be is a black hole, sucking everything good out of me.
Someone's hands grab my shoulders—my mother, Elena, her face wet with tears. "Baby, can you hear me? Aria, please—"
But I can't focus on her. Because through the broken, jagged remains of the bond, I feel something that makes everything worse.
Damien isn't in pain.
He's relieved.
And there's something else. Another emotion bleeding through the cracks. Something that feels like... triumph?
I force my head up, searching the crowd through blurry vision. That's when I see her.
Celeste.
My best friend since childhood. The girl who helped me pick out this dress. Who promised she'd be by my side forever.
She's standing near the back of the hall, her hand pressed to her mouth. But she's not crying. She's not shocked.
She's glowing.
And when Damien reaches the end of the aisle, when he should turn toward the exit, he doesn't. He turns toward her. Their eyes meet across the crowd, and I see it—everything I've been too stupid to notice.
The way they look at each other.
Like they're the only two people in the world.
"No," I whisper. "Celeste, no..."
She doesn't even have the decency to look guilty. She just smiles—small and secret and victorious.
My mother is trying to get me to stand, but my legs won't work. The pain is getting worse, spreading through my whole body like poison. My wolf isn't just hurt. She's breaking. I can feel her pulling away, retreating somewhere deep inside me where I can't reach her.
"Someone help her!" My mother's voice is desperate. "She's going into shock!"
But I barely hear her. Because the last thing I see before everything goes dark is Damien taking Celeste's hand.
Right there.
In front of everyone.
In front of me.
And through the shattered bond, I feel the truth that destroys me completely:
This wasn't a sudden decision.
They planned this.
Together.
The world tilts sideways, and I welcome the darkness that swallows me whole.
Because unconscious is better than feeling my heart break into a million pieces while three hundred wolves watch and whisper about how weak I am.
How right Damien was to throw me away.