Freya's POV

And just like that, it’s final. My future is no longer my own.

Images flicker relentlessly in my mind: Jareth and Sable locked together in intimacy, on a bed that was supposed to belong to me. My mate. My sister. But now, instead of vengeance or justice, I’m marching toward a new fate—a union with a man I barely know, all to preserve peace between our packs.

“Let’s proceed,” Alpha Whitlock says, his authoritative voice slicing through my chaotic thoughts. “The guests are waiting.”

I feel the weight in my chest intensify. Still, I manage a small nod. “Of course,” I whisper, though the words feel hollow, like they don’t belong to me anymore.

Alistair stands nearby, silent as stone. His cold, gray eyes stay trained on me, revealing nothing. I don’t want to meet his gaze, but my eyes keep returning to his face, searching instinctively for some humanity, some crack in his detached exterior. There’s none. He remains a blank slate.

When they lead us to the sacred space behind the pack house, the rushed nature of everything becomes even more apparent. It’s a far cry from what I once envisioned for my mating ceremony. Guests gather in a broad circle, whispering faintly among themselves. Some look at me with quiet pity; others watch with detached curiosity.

At the center, the elders stand by a small altar: a low stone slab draped in pristine white cloth. Resting on it is the ceremonial dagger, its gleaming blade injecting a fresh churn of nausea into my stomach.

Alistair steps closer to me, his icy demeanor even more pronounced. “Are you ready?” he asks without a trace of warmth.

“No,” I want to scream. Instead, the words that leave my lips are subdued. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He inclines his head, acknowledging my reply without comment.

Elder Joram raises his arms, and the murmur of the crowd immediately ceases. “This evening, under the watchful eyes of the moon and our ancestors, we unite Alpha Alistair of Red Moon and Delta Freya of Silvyr Hallowen. This binding ensures peace and fortifies the bond between our packs.”

The elder’s voice feels distant, his words landing like empty echoes in my ears. All I can hear is Sable’s venom-laced taunt—‘Why shouldn’t it be me for once?’—and Jareth’s blank look as he gazed at me, devoid of remorse. My chest feels unbearably tight.

“Freya,” Joram calls, his voice steady. “Come forward.”

Every instinct screams at me to flee, but I force myself to step forward. My spine stays straight, every movement deliberate, masking the crumbling parts of me underneath.

Alistair takes the dagger first. Without hesitation, he cuts across his palm, blood welling immediately. He passes the blade to me.

My hand shakes as I take it, but I grip it firmly with defiance. The sting of the blade biting into my hand barely registers. Compared to the betrayal that shattered me tonight, this pain is insignificant.

We press our bloody palms together, and crimson droplets slide down, landing on the dagger.

“With this, your bond is sealed,” Joram announces, his tone firm. “Bound by strength, bound by duty, under the watch of the moon.”

Scattered applause ripples through the crowd, a sound as muted as my emotions. My heart feels locked away, hidden behind a wall I didn’t even realize I’ve built. A wall reinforced by the betrayal of Jareth and Sable.

Once, I placed my trust in Jareth. I poured my love into him, believing it was safe. Now, that trust lies irreparably shattered. I promise myself that no one—not even Alistair—will ever hold that power over me again.

His breath brushes against my cheek as he leans close. “Say the vow,” he murmurs, his tone devoid of any tenderness.

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I force the words out. “I, Delta Freya of Silvyr Hallowen, bind myself to you in duty and alliance.”

His gray eyes stay unreadable as he responds mechanically. “I, Alpha Alistair of Red Moon, bind myself to you as mate, and as Luna of my pack.”

His tone is flat, detached—words spoken out of obligation, not desire.

Joram steps forward again, holding out a silver goblet. “Drink, and finalize the union.”

I take the offered cup and sip, the liquid hitting my tongue with a sharp, metallic bitterness. Steeling myself, I force it down. Alistair drinks after me.

The elder lifts his ceremonial staff high. “By the union of blood, under the moon, it is complete.”

The crowd cheers more loudly this time, but it all feels faint. My mother dabs tears away while attempting to form a smile. My father’s face, etched with guilt and unease, stands out starkly. Beyond them, I spot Sable standing with Jareth. Anger blooms in my chest, threatening to boil over, but I turn away before it breaks free.

Alistair steps aside to confer quietly with Alpha Whitlock and my father. The crowd begins dissipating, casting curious glances my way as they leave.

I remain still, trapped in a cold numbness. Everything hurts so much that feeling nothing seems easier.

I don’t hear Sable approach until she’s beside me. “Freya,” she begins hesitantly, her voice unusually soft.

I turn to face her, noticing the glimmer of tears in her eyes. Her chin remains defiantly raised, as always.

“I… I’m sorry you found out the way you did,” she whispers. “Jareth and I didn’t want you to… discover it like that.”

Her apology feels hollow. “You’re sorry I found out,” I reply evenly. “Not sorry for what you did.”

“That’s not fair!” Sable retorts, her voice rising defensively. “You don’t understand—”

“I do,” I interrupt sharply. “You wanted him, so you took him. And you didn’t care how it would shatter me.”

She glances away, guilty, then back at me with defiance. “You’ve always had everything, Freya. You chose Jareth for yourself, while I was promised to someone I didn’t know. Do you have any idea how that felt?”

“Do you know how this feels?” My voice trembles despite my attempts to steady it. “Watching my sister with my mate. On the night we were supposed to be joined?”

Her expression falters, but she doesn’t retreat. “You’ll survive, Freya,” she says, her tone bitter. “You’re the strong one, aren’t you?”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, she adds, “I didn’t come to fight. I don’t want to hate you. We’re still sisters.”

Pain and frustration battle inside me. “You chose him over me, Sable. Don’t pretend things will go back to how they were. You made a choice. Now, let me make mine.”

Her eyes narrow, her voice hardening. “So that’s it? You’re just going to hate me? Because for once, I didn’t live in your shadow?”

“I’m tired, Sable,” I respond truthfully, my voice resolute. “I have no energy for this.”

Something sharp glimmers in her gaze. “Fine,” she snaps. “But don’t pretend you’re innocent. You had no problem letting me marry a stranger so you could keep Jareth. At least I fought for what mattered to me.”

My jaw tightens. “You didn’t fight, Sable. You cheated. You betrayed.”

She scoffs. “You still have everything, Freya. You’re Luna now. So don’t act like I ruined your perfect life.”

I inhale deeply, trying to quell the fire in my chest. “I hope you’re happy, Sable. I truly do. You got what you wanted—let’s see if it was worth it.”

For a moment, an uncertain flicker crosses her face. Then her bitterness returns. “Maybe now you’ll realize you can’t always have it all, Freya. I deserve to be happy too.”

Shaking my head, I keep my voice low but firm. “We’re done here, Sable.”

Not sparing her another glance, I step away. The ache within me flares with every step, but I don’t stop or look back. I refuse to.

The past is immovable, beyond rewriting. What I can control is my future, and I vow to never offer my heart again. Not to Jareth. Not to anyone—not even Alistair.