Dante's POV
Dante's fist slammed through the bathroom mirror at three in the morning.
Blood dripped from his knuckles, but he barely felt it. The pain inside his chest was so much worse—like someone had reached into his ribcage and was slowly crushing his heart with bare hands.
Three days. It had only been three days since he'd rejected Elara and signed those papers. Three days since he'd watched her walk out of his life with nothing but a single bag and tear-stained cheeks.
Three days of absolute hell.
"Dante?" Selena's sleepy voice came from the bedroom. "Baby, are you okay? I heard something break."
He gritted his teeth at the sound of her voice. Wrong. Everything about her felt wrong lately. Her scent, her touch, even the way she said his name—it all grated against his skin like sandpaper.
"I'm fine," he lied, gripping the sink. "Go back to sleep."
"But you've been up every night. You barely eat. You keep pacing and—"
"I said I'm fine!" His roar echoed through the bathroom. Selena went quiet.
Dante stared at his reflection in the broken mirror. He looked terrible. Dark circles hung under his ice-blue eyes. His face was pale and haggard. He'd lost weight because food tasted like ash in his mouth.
And his wolf—God, his wolf was going absolutely insane.
It howled constantly inside his mind. Long, mournful sounds that made Dante want to rip his own skin off. His wolf had never acted like this before. Even during his worst fights, his most dangerous battles, his wolf had stayed controlled and calm.
Now it was a caged animal tearing itself apart.
Mate, his wolf whimpered for the thousandth time. Find mate. Mate hurt. Mate gone.
"Shut up," Dante growled at the creature inside him. "We don't have a mate anymore. I rejected her. It's done."
But his wolf just howled louder.
Dante splashed cold water on his face and stumbled back to bed. Selena immediately curled against him, her hand sliding across his chest. The touch made his skin crawl. He forced himself not to pull away.
This was what he wanted, wasn't it? Selena was his true mate. He felt the bond with her—that spark, that connection he'd never felt with Elara during six years of marriage.
So why did everything feel so wrong?
He lay awake until sunrise, his wolf crying inside his head, his chest aching with every breath. When morning finally came, he dragged himself to his office at Shadowpine Pack headquarters. Maybe work would distract him.
It didn't.
His Beta, Marcus, walked in around noon looking worried. "Alpha, we need to talk."
"Not now, Marcus."
"It's about Elara."
Dante's head snapped up so fast his neck cracked. "What about her?"
Marcus shifted uncomfortably. "She... there was an incident three nights ago. In the neutral zone just outside our borders."
Three nights ago. The night Dante had kicked her out.
Ice flooded Dante's veins. "What kind of incident?"
"Rogue attack. A whole pack of them. The neutral zone scouts found signs of a fight—blood, torn clothing, claw marks everywhere." Marcus's voice dropped. "Alpha, they found Elara's scent at the scene. Along with a lot of blood."
The room tilted. Dante grabbed his desk to stay upright. "How much blood?"
"Enough that... if it was all hers..." Marcus couldn't finish the sentence.
"Have they found her?" Dante's voice came out strangled. "Is she alive? Did anyone see—"
"No body. No trail after the attack site. She just... disappeared." Marcus looked at his Alpha with something like pity. "I'm sorry, Dante. I know you two weren't together anymore, but still—"
"Get out."
"Alpha—"
"GET OUT!" Dante roared, and Marcus fled.
The moment he was alone, Dante's wolf exploded inside his mind with such anguish that Dante doubled over, gasping. Images flashed through his thoughts—Elara's honey-blonde hair matted with blood, her amber eyes going dark, her small body broken on the forest floor.
No. No. NO!
His wolf was screaming now. Not howling—screaming like a creature being tortured.
Dante ran from his office, ignoring his secretary's questions. He shifted into his massive black wolf mid-stride, tearing through the building and out into the territory. He ran faster than he'd ever run in his life, his paws eating up miles of ground.
He had to get to the attack site. Had to see for himself. Had to know if Elara was—
Don't think it. Don't even think it.
The neutral zone appeared after twenty minutes of desperate running. Dante shifted back to human form and searched frantically. There—claw marks on the trees. Torn earth. And blood. So much blood painting the grass dark brown.
Dante fell to his knees beside the largest blood stain.
His hands shook as he reached out and touched the dried blood. The moment his fingers made contact, the world exploded.
Pain. Crushing, agonizing pain ripped through his chest like lightning. But it wasn't physical pain—it was emotional, soul-deep, a connection slamming into him with the force of a freight train.
The mate bond.
The real mate bond.
It hit him all at once—six years of suppressed connection, six years of a bond that should have been burning bright but had somehow stayed dormant. Now it blazed to life inside him with such intensity that Dante screamed.
He could feel Elara. Not just sense her—FEEL her. Her fear from three nights ago. Her pain as the rogues attacked. Her heartbreak and betrayal as she stumbled through the forest alone. Her despair as claws tore into her flesh.
And underneath it all, something else. Something ancient and powerful stirring inside her blood, waking up because she was dying.
But the connection was faint. Distant. Like she was very far away.
Or like she was barely alive.
"No," Dante gasped, clutching his chest. "No, no, no. Elara, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please be alive. Please—"
His phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number with a photo attachment.
Dante opened it with shaking hands.
The photo showed Elara—but not the Elara he knew. This woman stood tall and powerful, dressed in elegant silver and white. Her honey-blonde hair had silver streaks now. And her eyes... her eyes glowed with an otherworldly silver light.
She looked like a goddess. Like a queen. Like everything Dante had been too blind to see.
The text below the photo read: "Your rejected mate is under my protection now. She's discovering what she truly is—something far beyond what you ever deserved. If you want to see her, come to Nightshade Manor. Come alone. - Alpha King Caelan Nightshade"
Dante stared at the message, his newly awakened mate bond screaming inside his chest.
Elara was alive.
She was with the Alpha King.
And judging by the power radiating from her in that photo, she was something far more dangerous and incredible than Dante had ever imagined.
His phone buzzed again. Another photo—this time showing Elara laughing at something Caelan said, her silver eyes bright and happy.
The way she'd never looked with Dante.
A text followed: "P.S. She doesn't feel the bond anymore. Whatever you broke can't be fixed. But you're welcome to come watch her move on. I'm sure that won't hurt at all."
Dante's wolf howled in anguish as the mate bond pulsed with longing.
And for the first time in his life, the great Alpha Dante Blackwood fell to his knees and wept.