"I beg you."
When those three words finally spilled from Dion’s lips, not a single soul in the massive hall dared to breathe.
He was kneeling on the cold marble directly in front of me. His spine was rigid, as if every ounce of his Alpha pride was actively fighting a war against his own kneecaps.
Looking down at him, I didn't feel a rush of victorious pleasure.
I just felt an overwhelming, bone-deep exhaustion.
The High Priest approached us with trembling hands, offering a ceremonial blade forged from pure Moon Silver. He held it between us.
"Dion Blackwood. Jenna Frost," the Priest intoned solemnly. "Do you both willingly consent to the severing of your fated mate bond?"
Dion slowly lifted his head, his dark eyes searching mine for any trace of hesitation. "Jenna... what if I say n
