The words crashed down on Draven like an avalanche, suffocating, crushing. His breath left him, his heart pounding violently against his ribs.
“I found you a new mate.”
"New mate?" Draven’s voice was cold, laced with disbelief. His amber eyes, still darkened from their previous confrontation, locked onto his mother. "What do you mean? I already have a mate."
Diana exhaled sharply, her expression hardening. "I have a friend in the Stoneheart Pack. Her daughter’s mate died a while ago. You two would make a perfect match. She would be the perfect Luna. She’s wise and very strong. Her name is Valkyrie."
Draven’s jaw clenched. She had planned this. This wasn’t a suggestion—it was a decision she had already made.
"No." His voice was firm, final. "I don’t need a new mate because I already have one."
Diana’s lips curled in frustration. "No, Draven, you have a curse tied to your throat. A leash that, if it tightens any further, will choke the life out of you. You don’t see it now, but one day you will. And when that day comes, I hope it’s not too late."
Draven shook his head, letting out a sharp breath, pacing like a caged beast. "You don’t get to make this choice for me. You don’t get to dictate who I claim as my mate."
"Don’t I?" Diana’s voice was eerily calm, but the weight of her words coiled around him like a vice. "You think this is just about you? You think you can afford to be selfish?" Her gaze burned into him. "What about Jason? What about Kara? What about your pack? Do you even care what happens to them? Or is the only thing that matters to you that vampire whore?"
Draven’s body went rigid. A deep, guttural growl vibrated from his chest. "Watch your mouth."
Diana scoffed. "You watch your mouth. Because every word you speak, every action you take, doesn’t just affect you—it affects all of us. The council will be expecting this ‘mate’ of yours. The entire pack will be expecting her. Do you think they’ll just sit back and accept that their Alpha is bonded to a leech? Do you think they’ll follow you when they find out?"
Draven’s nostrils flared, his breaths ragged. He hated that she was right. His grip tightened into fists, nails biting into his palms. "I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want a mate at all, much less—" He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair. His mind was a storm, violent and unforgiving.
Diana took a slow step forward. "You don’t have a choice anymore, Draven. Whether you like it or not, Valkyrie is coming. She’ll be here soon."
His head snapped toward her. "You invited her here?"
"Of course I did."
He let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "Of course you did. Because why would you ever let me make my own choices?" His voice was venomous. "What did you tell her, huh? That her new mate is already bound to someone else?"
Diana’s face darkened. "I told her you suffered the same fate she did. That you lost your mate. I didn’t tell her who."
Draven exhaled sharply, his teeth grinding together. "So, you lied to her."
"I protected you."
"By manipulating an innocent woman into your schemes?" His voice rose with fury.
Diana’s expression softened for a fraction of a second before she steeled herself again. "I did what I had to do. And you will do the same."
Draven turned away, gripping the edge of the nearest table so hard it cracked under his strength. His mind raced. His wolf roared in protest. Everything inside him rejected this.
Diana walked up behind him, her voice quieter now. "I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to let her go. Before she costs you everything."
Draven’s jaw clenched. His heartbeat was a relentless drum against his ribs. Let Azrael go? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. But the noose around his neck was tightening, and Diana had just given it a hard pull.
—
Azrael sat motionless as her servants wove intricate braids into her long black hair, their fingers swift and precise. She barely noticed them, her golden eyes fixed on her reflection in the grand mirror before her. Her gown—a masterpiece of black silk, adorned with red and gold embroidery—clung to her form like shadowed fire. Yet, it was the choker around her neck that she held onto, her fingers tracing the smooth surface of the ruby pendant. It was her mother's. Azrael always wore it ever since the day Seraphina died.
Her father’s words echoed in her mind, a storm of revelations about her mother threatening to pull her under. The weight of the upcoming court meeting pressed against her, but despite everything, her thoughts drifted elsewhere. To him.
Draven.
The mate she was supposed to sever.
The mate she was supposed to forget.
Her heart clenched painfully.
***Is he thinking of me?***
***Is he okay? Is he hurt?***
The unknown gnawed at her insides, an ache she despised but could not shake.
Then, the heavy doors to her chamber creaked open.
Azrael snapped out of her thoughts, her fingers instinctively releasing the ruby. The servants froze mid-motion, their gazes lowering immediately. Valerion stepped inside, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the room. His presence was suffocating, commanding, yet eerily composed. His wine-red eyes settled on her, piercing through whatever emotion she had failed to hide.
“Leave.”
The single word was cold, absolute. The servants bowed their heads and scurried out without hesitation, the door clicking shut behind them.
Azrael swallowed hard as her father turned fully toward her. He didn’t speak immediately, only watching her with an unreadable expression. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until he finally spoke.
“It’s time.”
The words were quiet, yet they carried the weight of inevitability.
Azrael exhaled slowly, pushing down the emotions clawing at her chest. She gave one final glance at her reflection, steeling herself for what lay ahead, before rising to her feet.