Chapter 3

Elara POV

I needed to bleed. Not from the edge of a blade, but from the burn of exertion.

I needed to replace this suffocating emotional agony with brutal physical exhaustion.

Driven by a manic energy, I went to the training grounds.

The obstacle course loomed high above me-a daunting series of ropes, walls, and platforms designed for seasoned Warriors.

I wasn't a Warrior. I was bred to be a delicate noble daughter. But today, my wolf demanded action. She demanded release.

I climbed.

The rough hemp rope burned my palms, tearing at skin unused to such labor. Sweat stung my eyes, blurring my vision.

From the corner of my eye, I saw them.

Kael and Lyra.

He was "teaching" her archery. He stood flush behind her, his chest pressed firmly against her back, his large hands guiding hers on the bow.

It was intimate. It was revolting.

Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I focused on the high-wire traverse. I hooked my harness in and pushed off.

The wind rushed past my ears. For a fleeting second, I felt free.

Then-SNAP.

The sound was like a gunshot tearing through the silence. The main support cable gave way.

Gravity claimed me.

I fell twenty feet, crashing into the hard-packed earth with the weight of a stone.

The impact knocked the air from my lungs in a violent wheeze. A sickening crack echoed from my leg.

Pain. White-hot, blinding, nauseating pain.

I gasped, clawing at the dirt, trying to inhale, but my chest felt crushed. Through the haze of agony, I looked toward the archery range.

Kael had turned at the sound.

But he wasn't looking at me.

He was looking at Lyra, who had covered her ears and buried her face in his shirt, acting terrified by the noise.

"It's okay, shh," I saw his lips move. His hand stroked her hair.

He was comforting her.

He didn't come. He didn't run to his Mate who was lying broken in the dirt.

My wolf howled a mournful, dying sound inside my mind.

Get up, I told myself. Do not let them see you cry.

I dragged myself across the dirt.

My broken leg dragged behind me, a dead weight of fire. I clawed at the ground, inch by inch, fingernails breaking against the rocks, moving toward the infirmary.

"Help," I croaked, but the sound was weak. No one heard. Or no one cared.

Finally, Pack Healers ran out. They lifted me onto a stretcher, their faces pale.

"This cable..." one Healer muttered, examining the frayed rope. "This was cut. There are silver traces on the fibers."

Silver.

A wolf's weakness. It burned the skin and prevented healing. Someone had sabotaged the rope with a silver blade.

Later, in the medical wing, I lay in a haze of painkillers.

Kael finally came.

He stood at the foot of the bed, looking annoyed rather than worried. Like I was a chore he hadn't finished.

"You shouldn't have been on the advanced course," he said coldly. "You're clumsy."

He didn't ask if I was okay. He didn't smell the silver burn on my hands or the scent of my distress.

That night, half-asleep, I heard voices in the corridor.

"You put too much silver on the blade, Lyra," Kael's low voice drifted in. "If she dies, the Council will investigate."

"I just wanted to scare her," Lyra giggled, the sound light and cruel. "Besides, she needs to learn her place. That silver wire was expensive."

"She won't die," Kael said dismissively. "It will just teach her who the real Luna is."

My eyes snapped open in the dark.

He knew.

He knew she sabotaged the rope. He knew she used silver-a lethal weapon against our kind-and he allowed it.

He was protecting her attempted murder.

The final thread of my love for him didn't just break. It incinerated into ash.

I stared at the ceiling, the pain in my leg throbbing in rhythm with my heart. But the pain in my chest was gone.

It was replaced by a cold, hard void.

I closed my eyes.

No more pain, I promised my wolf. Only power.