Shattered Bond, Sweet Revenge

I ran my feather duster along the oak shelves in Marcus's private study, careful not to disturb the meticulously arranged books. Three years as his mate, and this room still felt forbidden. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for the higher shelf—another reminder of yesterday's 'training accident' that left my shoulder aching.

"Just be careful, Lyra," I whispered to my wolf, who whimpered softly in response. Once vibrant and strong, she'd grown increasingly withdrawn over the years, a shadow of her former self.

The study smelled of Marcus—sandalwood and power, that distinctive Alpha scent that once made my heart race with love. Now it just made me anxious. I glanced at the grandfather clock. Twenty minutes until he returned from the pack meeting. Twenty minutes to finish and disappear before he found some new flaw in my work.

As I stretched to reach the top shelf, my elbow knocked against a leather-bound book. It tumbled from its hidden position behind the row of financial ledgers, skidding across the polished floor with a sound that seemed to echo through the silent room.

My heart stopped. Marcus was meticulous about his possessions. Any disturbance would be noticed.

"I need to put it back exactly where it was," I murmured, kneeling to retrieve the fallen book. It had landed open, the pages splayed against the hardwood. As I moved to close it, a single phrase caught my eye: "Injury #97: Shoulder dislocation during training."

My blood ran cold. That was yesterday. The 'accident' where Delta Wilson had apologized profusely for throwing me too hard.

I shouldn't read it. I should put it back. But my trembling fingers betrayed me, turning to the previous page.

"Injury #96: Food poisoning from altered medication. Subject bedridden for three days. Minimal permanent damage, but sufficient energy transfer achieved."

The room spun around me. That was last month, when I'd been so violently ill that even the pack healer had been concerned. Marcus had stayed by my bedside, his face a mask of concern.

I clutched the journal to my chest and backed away from the shelf, my mind racing. This couldn't be real. This had to be some kind of mistake.

---

Night had fallen by the time I dared to open the journal again. Locked in my room—not our room, never our room, despite being his mate for three years—I sat cross-legged on my bed, the leather-bound book heavy in my lap.

My hands shook as I turned to the first page, dated three years ago. The very day Marcus had announced me as his mate to the pack.

"Contract initiated. Subject: Charlotte Williams, adopted daughter of Alpha Richard Williams. The contract requires 99 injuries through the mate bond to transfer life force to the intended Luna. Injury #1: Staged rogue attack during territory patrol."

I pressed my hand to my mouth, remembering that day. The 'lucky escape' that had left three parallel scars across my back. How Marcus had found me, carried me home,