Chapter 8
Kael didn't leave Blackridge's borders. He made camp just outside—close enough to be a provocation, far enough to avoid violating territorial law.
I could feel him. Even without a bond, even with everything severed between us, I could sense his presence like a bruise that wouldn't fade.
"Ignore him," my wolf growled. "He is nothing to us now."
But it was Dominic who delivered the real blow—two days after Kael's visit.
He found me in the library, surrounded by texts about Lycan history, and placed a folder on the table in front of me.
"I had my people investigate," he said. "About Serena. About Kael's so-called fated bond."
I looked up. "And?"
"There is no fated bond."
The world tilted.
"What?"
Dominic sat across from me, his expression grim.
"Fated bonds leave a spiritual signature—visible to any trained elder or seer. I had three separate seers examine the records. There is *no* fated bond between Kael and Serena. Never was."
"But his elders confirmed it. Years ago—"
"His elders were wrong. Or they were paid." Dominic slid a photograph from the folder—an image of a document, barely legible. "Serena's family has deep connections to Kael's former council. Her father was the one who originally claimed the bond existed, right after the betrothal was arranged when they were children."
An arranged mating. Disguised as fate.
"So Kael believed his whole life that Serena was his fated mate... but she never was?"
"Correct." Dominic's jaw tightened. "And the curse that put Serena in a coma? My investigators found no evidence of any rival pack's involvement. The magical signature on the curse matches Serena's *own* bloodline."
My blood ran cold. "You think she cursed herself?"
"I think she put herself into a strategic sleep to avoid an arranged mating she wasn't ready for—knowing that when she woke, Kael's loyalty would be cemented by guilt and obligation."
Three years. Serena chose to sleep for three years rather than simply *be* with Kael—because she didn't love him either. She wanted the title. The power. The throne.
And I had been the convenient warm body keeping that throne from being claimed by anyone else.
"There's more." Dominic's voice dropped. "About your contract. The blood your mother used to sign it—I had it analyzed."
I braced myself.
"It wasn't just a signature. It was a *binding seal.* A blood ritual designed to suppress Lycan awakening. Someone told your mother exactly how to sign that contract to keep your wolf dormant."
"Who?"
"Serena's father."
The pieces clicked together with sickening clarity.
Serena's family knew about my bloodline. They knew what I was—what I *could* become. So they engineered everything. The contract. The suppression. The convenient coma that ensured I'd stay bound to Kael—weak, wolfless, dependent—until Serena was ready to take her throne.
They hadn't just used me.
They'd *caged* me.
My hands trembled. Not with weakness—with rage. Pure, golden, Lycan rage.
"I need to talk to Kael," I said.
Dominic's brow rose. "You want to tell him?"
"He deserves to know the truth. Not for his sake—for mine." I met his eyes. "I won't be anyone's victim. Not anymore."
Something warm crossed Dominic's expression—pride, maybe. Or something deeper.
"Then I'll arrange it. On your terms."
---
I could feel him. Even without a bond, even with everything severed between us, I could sense his presence like a bruise that wouldn't fade.
"Ignore him," my wolf growled. "He is nothing to us now."
But it was Dominic who delivered the real blow—two days after Kael's visit.
He found me in the library, surrounded by texts about Lycan history, and placed a folder on the table in front of me.
"I had my people investigate," he said. "About Serena. About Kael's so-called fated bond."
I looked up. "And?"
"There is no fated bond."
The world tilted.
"What?"
Dominic sat across from me, his expression grim.
"Fated bonds leave a spiritual signature—visible to any trained elder or seer. I had three separate seers examine the records. There is *no* fated bond between Kael and Serena. Never was."
"But his elders confirmed it. Years ago—"
"His elders were wrong. Or they were paid." Dominic slid a photograph from the folder—an image of a document, barely legible. "Serena's family has deep connections to Kael's former council. Her father was the one who originally claimed the bond existed, right after the betrothal was arranged when they were children."
An arranged mating. Disguised as fate.
"So Kael believed his whole life that Serena was his fated mate... but she never was?"
"Correct." Dominic's jaw tightened. "And the curse that put Serena in a coma? My investigators found no evidence of any rival pack's involvement. The magical signature on the curse matches Serena's *own* bloodline."
My blood ran cold. "You think she cursed herself?"
"I think she put herself into a strategic sleep to avoid an arranged mating she wasn't ready for—knowing that when she woke, Kael's loyalty would be cemented by guilt and obligation."
Three years. Serena chose to sleep for three years rather than simply *be* with Kael—because she didn't love him either. She wanted the title. The power. The throne.
And I had been the convenient warm body keeping that throne from being claimed by anyone else.
"There's more." Dominic's voice dropped. "About your contract. The blood your mother used to sign it—I had it analyzed."
I braced myself.
"It wasn't just a signature. It was a *binding seal.* A blood ritual designed to suppress Lycan awakening. Someone told your mother exactly how to sign that contract to keep your wolf dormant."
"Who?"
"Serena's father."
The pieces clicked together with sickening clarity.
Serena's family knew about my bloodline. They knew what I was—what I *could* become. So they engineered everything. The contract. The suppression. The convenient coma that ensured I'd stay bound to Kael—weak, wolfless, dependent—until Serena was ready to take her throne.
They hadn't just used me.
They'd *caged* me.
My hands trembled. Not with weakness—with rage. Pure, golden, Lycan rage.
"I need to talk to Kael," I said.
Dominic's brow rose. "You want to tell him?"
"He deserves to know the truth. Not for his sake—for mine." I met his eyes. "I won't be anyone's victim. Not anymore."
Something warm crossed Dominic's expression—pride, maybe. Or something deeper.
"Then I'll arrange it. On your terms."
---