The Alpha Signed Away His Fated Mate

I stood center stage at my own art exhibition, surrounded by the Pack elite who looked at me with nothing but pity.

My husband, the Alpha Prime, was missing.

Then someone pointed at the TV. There was Dante, live on the news, shielding another woman—a leggy Beta named Isabella—from the rain with his own body.

While I stood alone, treated like a defect because I couldn't shift, he was playing the perfect gentleman to his mistress.

That night, I walked into his office with a stack of boring gallery logistics paperwork.

Buried deep on page four was a Severance Bond—an archaic law declaring a mate unwanted property.

Dante didn't even read it. He was too busy laughing with Isabella to notice he was legally signing away his wife.

I took the folder, packed a bag, and vanished into the night, taking the secret of his unborn heir with me.

When he finally tracked me down in the Swiss Alps during a blizzard, he expected a submissive wife ready to return.

Instead, he found a woman who looked him in the eye and said, "You are not needed here."

I thought I was free, until a year later, when our daughter’s blood began to burn her alive from the inside.

Her powerful Alpha bloodline was at war with her body, and my magic wasn't enough to save her.

Trembling, I dialed the number I swore I’d never call again.

"Dante," I sobbed. "It's Luna. She’s dying."

The man who once treated me like a resource tore through mountains to save us.

But this time, the Alpha Prime didn't come to conquer.

He came to kneel.

Chapter 1

Elara POV:

The gallery reeked. Sure, on the surface it was expensive champagne and Chanel No. 5, but underneath? It smelled like wet dog and condescension.

I stood dead center in the "Blood Moon Gallery," gripping my hands together to stop the shaking. The Pack elite circled like sharks in tuxedos, swirling their drinks. They’d look at my oils—violent, messy depictions of wolf history—and then look at me.

The look. That suffocating, "poor little thing" glance reserved for a defect. An Omega who couldn't shift.

"Nice pictures, Elara," a Gamma woman said, breezing past without breaking stride. She didn't care about the art. She just wanted to be seen being nice to the Alpha’s charity case.

I checked my phone. Black screen. Nothing.

*Dante. The curator is starting. Where are you?*

I pushed the thought through the Mind-Link. Usually, a mate bond feels like a live wire—a hum of electricity. Tonight? Dead air. He had the mental wall up. Again.

Inside, my wolf scraped against my ribs, desperate for him. I ignored her.

"Hey, check the TV," someone muttered by the shrimp cocktail.

I turned. The flat-screen on the wall was broadcasting the "Pack Alliance Summit" downtown. Rain lashed the city streets on screen. The camera zoomed in on a black SUV.

Dante.

God, he looked good. Even in pixels, he was lethal. Broad