The council chamber is packed with witnesses when they bring in the witch.

She’s ancient, her skin like weathered parchment, her eyes milky white. Guards flank her, but she doesn’t look afraid. Just tired. Resigned.

“State your name,” the King commands from his seat. He’s stronger today, the poison slowly leaving his system.

“Morgath.” Her voice is dust and whispers. “Of the Shadow Coven.”

“You were hired by Queen Seraphine to create a mate bond.” Marcus steps forward with the evidence. “Between Princess Lyralei and Theron Nightshade, the Alpha of Shadowpine pack. Is this true?”

“Yes.”

The word drops like a stone. Around the chamber, nobles murmur. Beside me, I feel Damon’s steady presence through our twin bond. Malik stands at my other side, a silent guardian.

But my eyes are on Theron across the room.

He’s gone very, very still. “What do you mean, create a bond?”

Morgath’s blind eyes somehow find him. “The bond between you and the princess was never natural, Alpha. It was crafted. Forced. Woven from dark magic and blood sacrifice.”

“That’s impossible.” But Theron’s voice wavers. “My wolf recognized her. I felt—”

“You felt what you were meant to feel.” The witch’s voice is emotionless. “The spell was designed to mimic a true mate bond. But it had another purpose.”

“What purpose?” The King leans forward.

“To drain the princess’s power.” Morgath turns her face toward me. “Royal blood is potent. Especially hers—the hidden twin, the lost heir, carrying magic that had been suppressed for years. The Queen Mother wanted that power contained. Controlled.” A pause. “So she had me channel it elsewhere.”

My stomach drops. Through the bond, Damon’s fury spikes.

“Channel it where?” I ask, though I already know.

“To the Alpha.” Morgath’s expression doesn’t change. “Every day, every hour, your magic bled through the false bond into him. He became a conduit for power that was never his. It made him stronger. Faster. More volatile.” She tilts her head. “It also made the bond nearly impossible to break through normal means. Your power fed into him, creating a dependency neither of you understood.”

Theron staggers back like he’s been struck. His face has gone white. “No. No, that’s not—I never—”

“You didn’t know,” Marcus says quietly. “You couldn’t influence that.”

“I stole from her.” Theron’s voice breaks. “All those years, I was taking her power, her strength, and using it against her. I rejected her while literally feeding off her magic—”

“You didn’t know,” I say, and everyone turns to look at me. “You were a pawn in this too. We all were.”

But Theron isn’t listening. He’s staring at his hands like they belong to someone else. “The strength I had. The way my wolf felt invincible sometimes. That wasn’t mine. It was yours.” His eyes meet mine across the room. “Moon Goddess. What did I do?”

“What the Queen Mother designed you to do.” Malik’s voice is hard. “The question is—can it be undone?”

All eyes turn to Morgath.

“Yes,” she says. “But it requires both parties to willingly reject the bond, with my counterspell to sever the magical channel.” She pauses. “There is a cost.”

“What cost?” Theron’s voice is hollow.

“You will lose the power you’ve been using. It was never yours to keep. When the bond breaks, the stolen magic returns to its rightful owner.” Her blind eyes find him. “You will be diminished, Alpha. Weaker than you’ve been since the bond formed.”

“I don’t care.” The words come out fierce. “If it frees her, I don’t care.”

The King nods slowly. “Then we will perform the ceremony. Tonight, in the sacred grove where the bond was first corrupted.”

When we arrive there in the evening, Morgath prepares the ritual circle, drawing symbols in the dirt with ash and salt. The King watches from the edge of the clearing with his advisors. Damon stands beside Malik, both ready to intervene if something goes wrong.

Theron and I face each other across the circle.

He looks different without the corruption of stolen magic between us. Vulnerable. Human. Not the untouchable Alpha who destroyed me, but just a man who made terrible choices.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is quiet. “For all of it. For the rejection, the humiliation, for using you while believing I was the victim. You deserved so much better.”

“We both did.” I take a breath. “We were both trapped by something we didn’t understand. Manipulated into hurting each other.”

“I should have seen it. Should have questioned why the bond felt so wrong, why rejecting you nearly killed me while you stayed standing.” His hands clench. “I should have protected you.”

Not weak, but normal. The artificial edge, the stolen boost—it bleeds away, leaving just his natural Alpha strength behind.

Not gradually. Not gently. Just—snap—and suddenly there’s nothing. No pull. No ache. No unnatural connection demanding attention.

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