Chapter 1
Violet's POV:
The smell of grease and fried chicken filled the air. It was heavy and cloying. But to me, it smelled better than the metallic tang of blood.
I sat in the corner of a McDonald’s near the university. My fingers gripped the edge of the plastic table. Outside, traffic moved in a steady stream. The world was loud and alive. It was completely indifferent to the hell I had just escaped.
My mind was still stuck in that rainy night. I could still hear the thunder. I could hear the roar of Alpha commands tearing through the air.
I spent ten years trying to warm Daemon Blackwood's heart. I played the perfect Luna. I loved him with everything I had. In return, he slaughtered my family for another woman.
Because I had refused to let him go for her, the Frost Pack declared war on my kin. My parents died defending a daughter who had been too blind to see the truth. I watched them fall, and then I died, unloved and replaced.
I looked down at my hands. They were trembling, but they were clean. There were no scars. The wasting sickness that killed me in my past life was gone.
I looked at the digital calendar on the wall. The date stared back at me.
It was three years ago.
I was back. And today was the fifth anniversary of the day Daemon Blackwood marked me.
A dry laugh escaped my throat. Fate had a twisted sense of humor. It dropped me right back into the middle of this farce of a marriage. But this time, I wasn't blind.
"Order number forty-two!"
A clear, happy voice cut through the noise. I looked up.
There she was. Celeste Morrison.
She wore a standard uniform and a visor over her honey-blonde hair. She looked fragile. She looked harmless. It was hard to believe this doe-eyed student was the reason for my family's destruction.
In my previous life, she was the catalyst. She was the "her" Daemon destroyed the world for.
Celeste walked toward my table with a tray. She smiled. It was a bright, sunny smile that reached her eyes.
"Here is your order, Luna," she said.
She set the tray down but didn't leave immediately. She hesitated, her fingers nervously touching her apron.
"I hope you don't mind," Celeste said softly. She reached into her pocket and placed a small, warm cardboard box on my tray. "I added a warm apple pie. It’s on me."
I froze. I looked up at her, confused. "Why?"
Celeste blushed slightly. She looked down at her shoes, then back at me with genuine concern. "You just looked... really sad staring out that window. Like you were carrying the weight of the world. My mom always says sweets help with a bad day."
Her eyes were so clear. So kind. There was no hidden agenda. She was just a girl trying to comfort a stranger.
The irony was suffocating. The girl who would inadvertently destroy my life was trying to cheer me up with a pie.
"Thank you," I said. My voice sounded rough.
"I hope your day gets better," she said cheerfully. She gave a little wave and bounced back to the counter.
I watched her go. She was light. She was pure. She was everything I wasn't anymore.
I took the bag. The heat of the food seeped through the paper. It felt real.
I left the restaurant and stepped into the humid afternoon usage. A black sedan waited for me at the curb. I slid into the back seat. The leather was cool and smelled of expensive polish.
"Luna," Leo, the driver, said. He looked at me in the rearview mirror. "The jeweler called. The obsidian cufflinks you ordered for tonight have been delivered to the manor."
Tonight. The celebration.
For five years, this date was the most important day of my year. I would spend all day preparing. I cooked meals that went cold. I dressed in silk gowns that went unseen. I did it all for a nod of acknowledgement from Daemon.
"I see," I said. I turned to look out the window.
Why had I done it? Why did I chase a man whose heart was cold stone? I was Violet Goldcrest. My wolf, Ember, was of Alpha blood. I had pride. Yet, I had made myself small to fit into Daemon’s life.
Perfection hadn't saved my parents. Love hadn't stopped the war.
The car drove up the private road toward the Blackwood Manor. It was a masterpiece of modern architecture. It was dark stone and glass. It was impressive, but it had no warmth.
I saw a massive black SUV parked near the fountain.
It was Daemon’s car. He was home. It was unexpected.
I walked into the living room. It was vast and cold, decorated in shades of gray.
Daemon Blackwood sat on the long leather sofa. A laptop balanced on his knees. He looked rigid and commanding.
He was beautiful. It was undeniable. He had dark hair that fell carelessly over his forehead. His features were sharp and aristocratic. His eyes were the color of blood. He radiated the power of a dominant Alpha.
He didn't look up. He never did.
I remembered our mating ceremony. He had looked at me like a business deal. “This is a partnership, Violet,” he had said. “Do not expect me to share my soul.”
I braced myself for the hate. I expected the urge to tear out his throat to overwhelm me. He was the man who would ruin everything.
But as I looked at him, the rage didn't come. Instead, I felt a strange, hollow silence. It wasn't forgiveness. It was relief.
I didn't want to destroy him. I didn't want revenge. I just wanted out.
I didn't answer him with my usual polite greeting.
I walked over to the armchair opposite him. I kicked off my red-soled heels. They tumbled onto the pristine floor. Then, I sank into the cushions.
I tore open the paper bag. The sound was loud in the quiet room.
Daemon stopped typing.
I pulled out a piece of fried chicken. The golden crumbs fell onto the expensive rug. I didn't care. I took a bite. The crunch echoed in the room.
Daemon finally looked up. His red eyes narrowed. He scanned me from my bare feet to the grease on my fingers. He looked confused and disgusted.
"You're eating that?" he asked. "Here?"
I swallowed. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
"I felt like it," I said flatly. "So I did."
He stared at me. His brow furrowed. This wasn't the Violet he knew. The Violet he knew would be in the kitchen right now. She would be stressing over the anniversary dinner.
He closed his laptop with a snap. He leaned back and crossed his arms.
"Is this some kind of statement, Violet? If you're looking for attention, this is a pathetic way to get it."
I put the chicken back in the bag. I wiped my hands on a napkin. I looked at him.
I saw the arrogance. I saw the dismissal. He didn't see me as a partner. He saw me as furniture. Convenient. Silent.
"Daemon," I said. My voice was steady. It didn't tremble.
He raised an eyebrow. He looked bored.
"I want to dissolve the mating bond," I said. "I want a formal Rejection Ceremony."
The silence in the room was absolute. Daemon didn't move. He didn't look angry. He didn't look hurt. He just stared at me.
Then, he laughed.
It was a short, sharp sound. It was full of mockery. He shook his head. He looked at me with pity.
"A Rejection Ceremony?" he repeated. He said the words like they were a joke.
He picked up his laptop again. He dismissed me entirely.
"Violet, stop playing games. I have a territory merger to review. Go clean yourself up. You smell like grease."