[Araya's POV]
Araya's bare feet whisper against the cold stone as she follows Jasper's scent through the winding corridors of Ironfang Keep. The fur wrapped around her shoulders does little to ward off the chill that seeps into her bones. Her body still aches from what happened in the chamber, a dull, throbbing reminder of his touch.
The torches flicker as she passes, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Jasper's scent grows stronger with each step. Pine and leather, sharp and unmistakable, leading her deeper into the keep.
Araya's heart pounds in her chest. She should turn back. She should return to the chamber and wait, as a proper Luna would. But something pulls her forward, something desperate and aching that refuses to let go.
The corridor branches. Araya pauses, listening.
Voices drift from the left passage, low and murmured. Intimate.
Araya moves toward them, pressing herself against the wall. The passage narrows, opening into a small alcove lit by a single torch. The same alcove from earlier.
Araya's breath catches.
Jasper stands with his back to her, one hand braced against the wall. Serenya faces him, her honey-blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her green eyes bright with satisfaction. Her silk gown clings to her curves, the fabric shimmering in the torchlight.
Serenya's hand rests on Jasper's chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns over his shirt.
"You came back," Serenya murmurs, her voice soft and pleased.
"I needed air," Jasper says.
"Is that what you call it?" Serenya laughs, the sound light and teasing. "I thought you'd stay with her longer. Make it convincing, at least."
Jasper's jaw tightens. "It's done."
"Poor thing," Serenya says, tilting her head. "Was she crying?"
Jasper does not answer.
Serenya's fingers trail down his chest, lingering at the buttons of his shirt. "You're cruel, you know. I like that about you."
Araya's chest constricts, pain radiating through her ribs like claws tearing flesh. She presses her hand over her mouth, stifling the sound threatening to escape.
Serenya leans closer, her lips brushing Jasper's jaw. "Tell me you missed me."
Jasper's hand moves to Serenya's waist, pulling her against him. "You know I did."
The words hit Araya like a physical blow. Her knees buckle, but she forces herself to stay upright, gripping the wall for support.
Serenya's smile widens. "Say it again."
"I missed you," Jasper murmurs, his voice low and rough.
Serenya's eyes gleam with triumph. "That's better."
Araya's vision blurs. The bond she felt earlier, that fragile thread of silver light, feels like it is burning away to ash. She wants to scream. She wants to tear herself away from this alcove and never look back.
But she cannot move.
Serenya's hand slides up to Jasper's neck, pulling him down. Their lips meet in a slow, deliberate kiss. Not hurried. Not desperate. Savored.
Araya's breath comes in short, sharp gasps. Her nails dig into the stone wall, scraping against the rough surface.
Serenya pulls back slightly, her lips still close to Jasper's. "She'll never satisfy you, you know. She's nothing. Wolf-less. Weak. Pathetic."
Jasper's hand tightens on Serenya's waist.
Araya waits. Waits for him to deny it. To push Serenya away. To tell her that the bond means something, even if it is painful and twisted.
But Jasper says nothing.
Serenya's smile turns cruel. "You could have had anyone. Any strong, beautiful wolf in the pack. But instead, you're stuck with her."
Jasper's storm-gray eyes remain fixed on Serenya. His expression is unreadable, cold and distant.
"She won't last," Serenya continues, her voice dropping to a purr. "She'll break. And when she does, you'll finally be free."
Jasper's thumb brushes along Serenya's jaw, a gesture so tender it makes Araya's stomach twist.
"Maybe," Jasper says quietly.
Serenya laughs, soft and satisfied. "I knew you'd see reason."
Araya's legs give out. She stumbles back, her shoulder hitting the wall. The sound is soft, but in the stillness of the corridor, it echoes.
Jasper's head snaps toward the sound.
Araya freezes, her heart hammering in her chest.
Jasper's eyes narrow. He steps away from Serenya, moving toward the corridor entrance.
Araya turns and runs.
Her bare feet slap against the stone floor, the sound echoing through the empty halls. She does not care who hears. She does not care if Jasper follows.
She just runs.
The corridors blur around her, torchlight streaking past in flashes of orange and shadow. Her lungs burn. Her legs tremble.
She does not stop until she reaches the chamber.
Araya slams the door behind her and leans against it, chest heaving. Her breath comes in ragged, broken sobs. She slides down to the floor, pulling the fur tighter around her shoulders.
The room is still dark. The fire is still dead. The candles are still burned out.
Nothing has changed.
Except everything has.
Araya presses her hands over her face, trying to muffle the sound of her crying. Her body shakes with the force of it, every sob tearing through her like a wound reopening.
He took her body. He bound her with duty and obligation. But he gave his affection, his tenderness, his words, to Serenya.
Araya's half-sister.
Her own blood.
The betrayal cuts deeper than anything Jasper could have done alone. This is not just cruelty. This is deliberate. Calculated.
Serenya wanted this. Wanted Araya to know. Wanted her to suffer.
And Jasper let it happen.
Araya lifts her head, staring at the closed door. Her silver-blue eyes burn with unshed tears.
She waits for the door to open. For Jasper to come back. To say something. Anything.
But the door remains closed.
Minutes pass. An hour. Maybe more.
Araya does not move.
The moon sinks lower in the sky, its light fading through the window.
And then she hears it.
Footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate.
Moving down the corridor.
Not toward the chamber.
Away.
His scent drifts through the gap beneath the door. Pine and leather. Sharp and unmistakable.
Jasper.
The footsteps fade into the distance.
Araya closes her eyes, her chest hollow and aching.
He is not coming back.
Not tonight.
Maybe not ever.