Chapter 1 Longing and Divorce

_Zarelle's POV_

After three years of marriage to Alpha Calden Ashmoor, I learned my true place. I was not his Luna. I was a walking, breathing blood bank.

[Oak Clinic. Thessaly's condition is deteriorating again. The blood bond ritual is required. You know your duty. Get here now.]

Another message from Calden flashed on my phone. Once, those words would have cut deep. But all I felt was the bitter ache of cold resignation. This lunar cycle alone, I had dragged myself to the treatment room three times, offering up my blood and my strength. Each session left me hollow, trembling on the edge of collapse. And Calden? He never cared.

[Where the hell are you, Zarelle? You were three minutes late. Thessaly couldn't afford to wait.]

In three years as his wife, he had never once shown me the gentleness or patience he reserved for Thessaly.

Thessaly Ashmoor. She was Calden's beloved, until she chose his brother for the Luna title-only to end up a widow.

[Payment's been increased to 100,000. Check your account.]

He still thought I stayed for the money. That I was just another shallow Omega.

[Zarelle Stormy. What the hell were you playing at? You had twenty minutes to report to the healer. A deal was a deal.]

A deal. Yes, that was what he called our marriage.

He had never believed I was worthy of him. If my blood hadn't kept his precious Thessaly alive, he wouldn't have spared me a second glance. Three years of cold shoulders and distant silences had made that painfully clear.

I leaned back against the car seat and closed my eyes. The first time I ever saw Calden Ashmoor, it was still so vivid in my mind.

I had just arrived in the city, alone, when I was caught up in a chain-reaction collision. The accident nearly brought the city to its knees, but Calden had appeared in time to stop the disaster. That day, the heroic Alpha left an indelible mark on my heart-though I never imagined our paths would cross again.

Until he walked into my hospital room while I was having my wounds bandaged.

"Will you be my wife?"

Just those words. And my quiet, dormant heart began to race. I had never felt that way about any man in my entire life. So when I said "I do," it slipped out before I could stop myself.

Later, I learned the price behind those words.

Before our marriage was even registered, I discovered the truth: Calden had chosen me for the value of my rare blood. It kept Thessaly alive. It brought benefit to the pack.

"This union is for the good of the pack," he had told me coldly before I signed. "But your primary role is to be her donor. Whenever Thessaly needs you, you will come. In return, I'll make sure you never want for anything."

A warning. But I had been so foolishly in love by then that I actually convinced myself that at least my blood gave me a reason to stay by his side. I thought that one day, I could shed the label of "tool" and become someone meaningful to him. I thought I could make him love me.

Three years later, I had failed. Completely.

Calden rarely touched me. Even when we were alone, he kept his distance, never allowing our scents to mingle. At first, I thought it was because of our difference in status-that my Omega scent was beneath his Alpha dignity. Later, I learned the truth: he was saving himself for another woman.

Thessaly Ashmoor. His sister-in-law. And the woman he could never let go.

Even the accident that had brought him into my life-the one that made me fall for him at first sight-he had been so frantic in his rescue efforts because Thessaly had been caught up in it.

He had never truly seen me.

My phone vibrated again. This time, the sender wasn't Calden.

An anonymous message. With a photo.

My breath caught.

Even in sleep, Calden looked like a god-carved from shadow and steel. His features were sharp enough to cut: a jawline that could draw blood, lashes dark as midnight, lips that seemed designed for sin and cruelty (though I had never tasted either). His body was a weapon-broad shoulders, coiled strength even at rest.

And there she was. Thessaly.

Her head rested on his shoulder, a faint smirk curving her lips even in sleep. The look of a victor.

Beside her, Calden looked utterly at ease. As if he had come home. As if this-with her-was where he truly belonged.

The message beneath the photo slid in like a poisoned blade:

"I bet you've never had a moment like this. Know your place, blood bag."

Anger flashed through my eyes. This wasn't the first time I'd received such a taunt. It always arrived like clockwork, after every one of Calden's summons-as if I needed reminding of my place.

A passing car swept its headlights across my window, illuminating my reflection in the glass. I froze, staring at the stranger staring back.

I was an Omega, yes. But I had never looked like this. So bloodless. So drained. My skin stretched thin over bones that seemed sharper each day, threatening to break through. Dark circles carved hollows beneath my eyes, deepening with every lunar cycle. Every time I gave a piece of myself to Thessaly, something inside me withered.

Another healer's words echoed in my mind: "You can't keep this up, Zarelle. Even the strongest bloodline has its limits. This intensity will hollow you out. It will kill you."

Death. A warrior never feared death-my father had taught me that.

But a warrior died with purpose. With honor.

Was this how I would end? Stiff and cold on a transfusion table, drained for a woman who saw me as nothing more than a supply line? For the scraps of attention from a man who had never once loved me?

No.

My fingers curled into fists against the steering wheel.

I had spent three years shrinking myself. Three years bleeding out for him, for her, for a pack that only valued my veins. I had let them hollow me, piece by piece, convinced that if I just gave enough, endured enough, he might finally see me.

But he never had. He never would.

And I was done dying for people who didn't care if I lived.

My phone buzzed again. Another message. Another leash yanked.

[Zarelle. You're crossing a line. If you don't show today, I'll make sure this city has no place for you.]

I stared at the screen, and for the first time in three years, I laughed. A hollow, broken sound-but a laugh nonetheless.

When would Calden realize what had kept me bound to him all this time? It wasn't his Alpha authority. It wasn't that ridiculous contract.

It had been hope. Foolish, desperate, bleeding hope.

And now? That hope was dead.

When I decided to leave, no one-not him, not her, not this entire pack-could stop me.

My fingers tightened around the wheel. I started the engine.

*

The car screeched to a halt outside the hospital. I didn't wait for the driver to open my door-I pushed it open myself and strode toward Thessaly's private suite.

I hadn't even raised my hand to knock when the door slammed open.

That presence hit me like a physical blow-primal, intoxicating; my wolf cowered instinctively before I could stop her.

Calden filled the doorway. Even in his tailored suit, he couldn't hide the predator beneath. When his gaze landed on me, irritation flickered first-then, as his eyes caught the phone in my hand, that irritation hardened into something far more dangerous.

"Your phone works." His voice sliced through the air, cold enough to freeze the space between us. "Then why the fuck weren't you answering my messages? The pack healers have been waiting."

His scent flooded my lungs-pine and winter and absolute dominion-and I drank it in one last time. The cruel line of his jaw. Those predators' eyes that could bend an entire pack to his will. The corded muscles of his forearms, tattoos peeking from beneath rolled sleeves, each one marking territory he'd claimed.

This would be the last time.

His hand shot out, fingers closing around my wrist hard enough to bruise. "The transfusion. Now."

"I know." My voice came out smaller than I intended, nearly drowned by the blood roaring in my ears. I steadied myself against the doorframe, every muscle tensing. I was no longer the compliant Omega who endured in silence.

Calden's lip curled into a vicious smile. "Then what the hell are you still standing here for?"

Ancient pack legends whispered through my mind-stories of lone wolves who tore their own bonds rather than live as slaves. My pulse hammered against my ribs, desperate to break free.

"I'll go." My voice didn't waver. "I'll give her my blood. But first, I want something."

He raked a hand through his hair, patience fraying. "The money's already in your account." He jutted his chin toward his phone. "Check it and go."

"Not money." My voice was terrifyingly calm.

"Then what-?" His Alpha command reverberated through the room, rattling glass. "Spit it out!"

I met his gaze and didn't flinch.

"Sever our bond." The words cut my throat on the way out. "I want a divorce, Calden Ashmoor."