His Betrayed Omega,The Bond She Rejected

On the night of my mother-in-law's Moon Jubilee—her fiftieth year honored beneath the full moon—my mate's Omega assistant sent me a photograph.

In it, the pack matriarch lay crumpled inside an iron cage, her mouth a ruin of blood where her teeth had been torn out.

My hands shook as I reached through the pack link, my voice raw: "Aria Duskthorn, what have you done?"

Her cold laugh echoed back through the connection.

"You dare ask me? The Alpha just established a new border outpost, and you send this withered old she-wolf to beg scraps from his table. Is your bloodline truly so desperate?"