BROKEN MATE BOND

THE FRACTURED BOND

“You—you what?” Selene’s voice cracked, sharp as shattered glass.

Zevaris’s lazy smile did not waver. “Selene, relax. I can tell from here… you wish you could join us.”

Her knees trembled as her hands clenched into fists. Kaelen laughed softly, brushing her lips against Zevaris’s temple in a way Selene had once imagined only for herself.

“Is this a joke?” Selene whispered, disbelief and fury coiling inside her. Every heartbeat pounded like war drums, each echo in the cavernous hall a reminder that everything she believed in had been stripped away in one cruel instant. She wanted to scream, to strike, to shake them until they understood the depth of her betrayal—but she was paralyzed by shock.

“Selene,” Zevaris said, his tone dismissive, almost mocking, “don’t look so… surprised.”

Her chest heaved. Every pulse of the mate bond throbbed painfully, reminding her of what she thought was theirs alone. It was supposed to be a tether, a promise beyond words, beyond choice, yet here it mocked her, singing with the betrayal of the two she had trusted most.

“I trusted you,” she spat, voice trembling. “And you—both of you—betray me?”

Kaelen tilted her head, her smile cruel and confident. “Isn’t this proof, Selene? You’ve always been… fragile. Overly cautious. Maybe now you see your place.”

Selene’s stomach twisted with a mixture of rage and nausea. Her hands shook, not just from anger but from the raw, visceral ache of the bond inside her. It pulsed, trying to pull her back toward him even as every fiber of her body screamed to flee. She could feel it, tethered, alive, betraying her own body’s demands.

“You will regret this,” Selene warned, stepping closer despite the trembling of her legs. “I—I will not let this pass.”

Zevaris rose, towering over her. His presence was suffocating, dark and commanding, reminding her of every reason she had ever been drawn to him—and every reason now to fear him. “Regret? You? Selene, you are mine, whether you like it or not. Nothing will change that.”

“I—I don’t care!” she shouted, the anger in her voice bolstered by heartbreak. “I will break our bond if I have to!”

Kaelen laughed again, sharp and biting. “Go ahead. You’re weak, Selene. You’ll fail before you even try.”

Selene’s vision blurred with rage and sorrow. She clenched her fists, feeling the ache of betrayal like fire in her chest. Her heart hammered in sync with the invisible thread that connected her to Zevaris, twisting painfully as if mocking her. Every instinct screamed to lash out, to flee, to reclaim some fragment of dignity.

She stepped backward toward the door, fighting the storm in her chest. Memories of every shared laugh, every touch that had once felt sacred, now burned like a brand across her soul. “I gave you my trust. I loved you. And this—this is what I get?” Her voice broke, ragged and raw.

Zevaris’s dark gaze softened—just for a moment—but it only fueled her fury. “Selene, I am still your mate. You cannot undo what the Moon has bound.”

Her chest tightened. For years, she had been taught that the mate bond was eternal, sacred, beyond mortal interference. But what use was eternity when it brought only shame, heartbreak, and betrayal? She pressed her palm to her chest, feeling the pulse of the bond, the thread that tied her to him. Every beat was agony. Every heartbeat screamed defiance.

“Then watch me try!” she cried.

With a sudden surge of defiance, she turned on her heel and fled the room, the sound of her own heartbeat deafening in her ears. The corridors stretched endlessly before her, yet she ran, desperate to escape the sight, the sound, the betrayal. Every footfall echoed in the marble halls, a drumbeat of fury and grief, while her lungs burned with the effort.

From the shadows, a voice called out, steady and concerned.

“Selene! Wait—what’s wrong? Where are you going?”

Simba. The palace guard sworn to her protection. His presence was solid, grounding, yet she barely acknowledged him. Her chest heaved, the raw pulse of the bond still gnawing at her as if alive.

“I’m… I need to… somewhere,” she gasped, barely forming words.

“I can come with you,” he offered gently, stepping closer, dark eyes filled with worry. “Let me escort you. You shouldn’t go alone like this.”

Selene shook her head, refusing. “No. I need to be alone,” she said firmly. Her legs carried her forward, toward the gates. Simba hesitated but did not pursue further; he could only watch as she vanished into the night.

Once outside, the forest greeted her like an old, familiar shadow. Moonlight spilled through the treetops, silver and cold, illuminating the undergrowth. Pine needles and damp earth filled her nostrils; the cool night air washed over her face, carrying away the stifling weight of the palace. Yet inside, her chest still burned.

She stopped, pressing her palm against the taut thread of the mate bond. The Moon Spirit—the one she had always revered—was her last hope. Her voice trembled as she whispered, a command born of heartbreak and defiance:

“Moon above, hear me. I reject this bond. I order You to release me. Sever what Zevaris and I were bound to. Let this tether break, for I cannot endure it.”

Her words fell into the silence, trembling, fervent. The forest seemed to lean closer, listening. Pain flared, white-hot and sharp, tearing through her chest. The invisible thread screamed as it strained, resisting. The bond twisted, pulled, then finally frayed. A sudden emptiness followed, leaving her gasping, trembling, yet free.

Tears streamed down her face, but she refused to cry aloud. She had done it. She had shattered what was supposed to be eternal, and it felt both terrifying and liberating.

Branches clawed at her clothes, roots threatened to trip her, and the wind carried a low, haunting howl that made her heart race. She stumbled once, catching herself against an oak tree, forehead pressed to rough bark, as sobs tore free. This was not weakness—it was release, a surrender to the raw pain of betrayal and the brutal power of choice.

The bond was gone—or at least broken in her will. The ache remained, a phantom pain of loss, but she felt the threads of freedom unfurling inside her. She pressed her palm to her chest again, feeling the faint echo of what had been.

Then she heard it again—a soft snap of a twig, deliberate, close. Her wolf senses flared, ears twitching, eyes scanning the shadows. Something—or someone—was moving in the darkness.

“Show yourself!” she demanded, voice steady despite the tremor in her limbs.

A low growl rolled through the undergrowth, faint but unmistakable. Her hands flexed, claws ready, teeth bared. Instinct screamed at her to run, to fight, to survive. But she did not flee. She would not give fear the power over her. Her legs wavered, but her resolve was iron. She pressed onward, deeper into the forest, every step a testament to defiance, survival, and the unbroken core of her spirit.

Shadows twisted in rhythm with her heartbeat, eyes glinting like silver in the moonlight. And somewhere in the dark, the presence lingered, watching, waiting.

Selene knew one thing for certain: her struggle had only just begun.