Mauled Seven Times for His New Luna

This was my seventh time lying in the pack hospital's emergency ward.

The seventh time my bonding ceremony with Cael Ashworth had failed.

A wolf only gets to bond once. I had spent seven years preparing for ours.

But every full moon, right as we neared the marking — pack gathered, ceremony underway — a group of feral strays would charge through the territory out of nowhere.

They never went after anyone else. Only me.

Seven years. Seven times.

I went from a pureblood Alpha with a clean bloodline to something so wrecked I could barely hold my human form.

Footsteps outside the door. Faint, careful.

Even torn up like this, a wolf's hearing doesn't quit. I caught every word through the wall.

"Cael, Wren got hurt really badly this time. What if your grandmother finds out?"

Dove Sinclair. A delicate white wolf, and the "sister" Cael had brought home.

"She won't blame you." His voice was flat, irritated. "It's Wren's bad luck. We're not meant to bond. Even the Moon Goddess won't have it."

"But..." Dove's voice cracked, turning wet. "Those strays were so vicious. I was terrified just watching. Next time you let them in, could you at least tell them to go easier? I'm really scared she might die."

Dead silence.

I lay on the bed. My lungs stopped mid-breath.

My chest locked. Something behind my ribs caved in.

So that was what it was.

Seven years. Seven attacks.

I thought it was bad luck. A curse, maybe.

It was Cael. All of it.

"She won't die. Purebloods are tough." A dry, ugly laugh. "If I didn't do this, you think she'd ever walk away on her own? She's been riding her parents' sacrifice — what they did for my family — to hang on to the Luna title. I'm done."

"Don't say that, Cael. She just loves you too much..."

"Love?" He cut her off. "Her love makes me sick."

His voice shifted, went soft. "Just wait a little longer, Dove. Once she finally backs off, I'll make you my Luna. Properly."

I lay there and listened to every word.

No tears. No screaming.

My blood just went cold, inch by inch, until the pain from my wounds stopped registering at all.

I reached for the phone tucked under my pillow.

The screen lit up. The recording app was still running — I'd turned it on when I first woke, meaning to catch the doctor's instructions.

I hadn't planned on recording this.

Ten minutes later, the door opened.

Lenore Ashworth leaned hard on her cane, a house attendant steadying her arm as she hurried in. When she saw me — bandaged head to foot, blood already seeping through — her eyes went red. Her cane struck the floor.

"What has he done." She came to my bedside and touched my hair with a shaking hand. "Wren. My dear girl. What has he done to you."

Cael and Dove came in right behind her.

The coldness on Cael's face vanished, replaced by a smooth mask of concern.

"Grandmother, the doctor says Wren is stable now." He stood at the foot of my bed, looking down at me. "Wren, it happened again. It seems the Moon Goddess truly doesn't want us to bond."

Dove tucked herself behind his shoulder, eyes red. "Wren, I really hope you get better soon."

I didn't look at her. I didn't look at him.

I picked up my phone and pressed play.

Their voices filled the room.

"Next time you let them in, could you at least tell them to go easier..."

"If I didn't do this, you think she'd ever walk away on her own..."

The recording stopped.

Cael's face went white. He stared at the phone in my hand, frozen in place.

Dove was shaking so hard she had to press herself flat against his back just to stay upright.

"Cael Ashworth." Lenore's voice cracked through the silence. Her cane swung down and connected hard with his shin. "You animal. You actually did this."

He took the hit without flinching.

He just stared at me, jaw tight, humiliation and fury fighting behind his eyes. "You were listening? You recorded us?"

That was what bothered him.

Not what he'd done. That I'd heard it.

I looked at him standing there, shaking with anger, and something inside me went very still.

Seven years of holding on. Seven times I'd nearly bled out for this bond.

All of it — one long, stupid joke.

I pressed my palms flat against the mattress and forced myself upright. A broken rib shifted under the bandages. The wound along my side split back open, fresh blood soaking through the gauze.

I didn't flinch.

"Cael." My voice came out raw and even. "You can stop sending strays to rip me apart."

He went still.

"You couldn't make the choice. So I'm making it for you."

I held his gaze.

"The engagement is off."

"You're free."