Breakfast passes in strained quiet, the kind that makes every swallowed bite feel louder than it should. No one says much, their cautious glances flicking my way and then back down again. My mood is unmistakably the cause, though not a single person dares mention it.

I push food around on my plate, taking only token bites. As soon as it feels reasonable to excuse myself, I leave the table without a word.

Walking back to my room, I notice someone stationed right outside my door. Broad-shouldered and draped in black, the figure stands with their back to me.

I don’t need to ask who it is. The question is what he wants.

“What are you doing outside my room?” My tone comes out flat, irritation dripping from each word.

Alistair turns slowly, his ice-grey eyes meeting mine. His expression is unreadable, not a flicker of emotion betraying his thoughts. “Is that the kind of morning greeting your parents taught you to give?” There’s a faint edge of disdain in his voice. “No ‘good morning’? No decency?”

I cross my arms. “Good morning,” I say blandly. “Now, why are you here?”

His slow, deliberate gaze sharpens as he speaks. “Mind the way you address me, Freya.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. Is he really doing this? “I didn’t know politeness extended to people lurking outside others’ doors.”

His jaw tightens ever so slightly. I catch the subtle tic and feel a small surge of satisfaction. But Alistair recovers quickly, steamrolling over my words as if they barely matter.

“I’m here to tell you,” he says, his tone clipped, “that I’m leaving.”

I blink. “Leaving?” So he thinks I’ll just drop everything and trail behind him like an obedient shadow? He has no idea.

“That’s... unfortunate,” I say with mock concern, my arms still crossed. “Considering I haven’t even started packing yet. Guess you’ll have to wait.”

His expression doesn’t change. “You won’t need to pack,” he replies coolly. “All arrangements have been made. Anything you require will be provided once you arrive.”

It’s the kind of statement that might’ve sounded considerate coming from someone else—maybe even thoughtful. But from him? It lands with all the warmth of a storm cloud.

“How incredibly generous,” I say dryly. “Anything else, your Highness?”

“Yes.” His next words are sharp, final. “You’re not coming with me.”

I freeze, caught completely off guard. “Excuse me?”

“I have business to attend to,” he explains curtly. “Someone will come for you tomorrow morning. Prepare yourself by then.”

I squint at him, trying to decipher whether he’s serious. “We were supposed to leave together. Or is this just your way of dodging responsibility?”

His smirk appears—a lazy, infuriating curve of his lips. “Careful. I might start to think you’re eager to chase after me. Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”

His arrogance is enough to turn my irritation into something sharper. But I’m not backing down.

I mirror his smirk, meeting him with equal audacity. “That’s rich, coming from a man who was so quick to swap one twin for another. How desperate were you to accept me instead of Sable, Alpha Alistair?”

That lands. For the briefest moment, I see the crack in his armor—a twitch at the corner of his mouth, a flash of something unguarded. But again, he recovers without a word, moving toward the door with unhurried steps.

“See you tomorrow,” he says, his tone as smooth as ever. And just like that, he’s gone.

I stare at the empty doorway, feeling an odd flicker of triumph beneath my lingering annoyance. If there’s any upside to this situation, it might just be that irritating him is far easier than I expected.

------

Alistair's POV

The moment the door clicks shut behind me, I stride toward the waiting car. Sliding into the back seat, I nod once to Ron, my driver, and settle into the worn leather as we pull away. My frustration hovers just beneath the surface, tight and clinging like a second skin.

But even the increasing distance between me and Freya isn’t enough to clear my head. She’s still there, etched into my thoughts, and not for any good reason.

No, her presence lingers like an itch I can’t scratch. A deliberate provocateur, she knew exactly how to needle me. Her gaze, her words—all of it calculated to test me.

“She enjoys stirring the pot,” I mutter under my breath.

“She does,” my wolf, Aeron, replies, his voice amused. “And you enjoy the game she’s playing.”

“No, I don’t,” I snap in response, scowling at my own reflection in the tinted window.

“You do,” he counters lightly.

Damn him—and her. I exhale harshly, dragging a hand down my face.

“Sir?” Ron’s careful tone interrupts my spiraling thoughts. “Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” I answer quickly, straightening up. I need to get a grip. Muttering aloud is the last thing I need right now.

------

RED MOON PACK HOUSE

As we approach the pack house, I spot my sister Isola on the steps, her bounce of excitement evident from this distance. Her wide grin practically beams, and I know the cause even before she speaks.

Ron hasn’t even stopped the car when Isola bounds down the steps, her enthusiasm palpable.

“You’re back!” she exclaims, throwing herself at me in a hug as soon as I step out. “How did it go? Where is she? Where’s the new Luna?”

I barely manage to keep my footing as she pulls back, already scanning the car as if my mate might be hiding somewhere inside.

“Isola,” I start, bracing myself.

Her bright eyes dart from the back seat to the front, thoroughly inspecting. “Is she shy? Hiding? Alex, you didn’t scare her off already, did you?”

“She’s not here,” I say firmly, drawing her attention back.

She stops mid-motion, blinking up at me. “What do you mean she’s not here? You said everything went fine. The whole pack is waiting...”

“I’ll explain inside.” I don’t have the energy to repeat myself—or to deal with any nosy bystanders overhearing this conversation.

Isola trails me reluctantly, her earlier enthusiasm dimmed. As we ascend the steps, Cormac appears, his trademark grin spreading across his face. His gaze sweeps behind me, no doubt expecting the mate everyone’s been buzzing about.

When he sees no one, the grin falters slightly, but he keeps his tone light. “Alpha Alistair.”

“Cormac,” I acknowledge, brushing past him without further explanation. He knows better than to press me in this state.

------

Inside my office, I drop heavily into the chair behind my desk, the weight of the situation pressing down hard. Isola and Cormac follow, their silence somehow more pointed than words. Both of them stand there, arms crossed, waiting.

“I need to tell you something,” I begin. My fingers tap the armrest once before I stop myself. Time to get this over with.

“The mate bond didn’t go as planned,” I say, watching as confusion flickers across both of their faces. “The ceremony succeeded—but not with Sable.”

Isola’s brows shoot up, while Cormac narrows his eyes. “Not with Sable? Then who?”

I lean back, already anticipating the fallout from my next words. “Sable offered herself to another... willingly. Her twin sister, Freya, was given in her place. The bond was completed with her.”

Isola’s sharp intake of breath cuts through the room like glass. “Alex, do you know what this means?”

She doesn’t wait for my answer. “The elders won’t care that they’re twins. This breaks the agreement. The alliance was built on Sable!”

“I know,” I say, my voice heavy. “That’s why I came back without her. Freya is still at her pack. I need time to prepare before introducing her here.”

Isola shakes her head, her earlier excitement thoroughly replaced by worry. Cormac remains silent, his frown deepening as he processes the implications. Neither of them looks reassured—and I don’t blame them.

The ground beneath us is shifting, and I just hope it doesn’t give way entirely.