After a Hundred Betrayals, I Severed the Bond

In five winters of our bond, my mate, Vladimir Barnes, had brought ninety-nine chosen she-wolves into our den.

At our union anniversary, he let the hundredth one trick me into drinking.

I cannot handle moon wine. It sent me into a fatal shock, and I woke in the healer's den. Still, he said to me, "Stop pretending to be weak, Abigail. Stella craves roasted meat from the hunt. Drag your frail self-home and prepare it."

Then the fire broke out in the pack’s storage house. Without a second thought, he rushed to save his chosen mate, carrying her out while leaving me behind.