Danae’s POV
The platinum cufflinks I’d given him for his birthday caught the light as he turned to leave.
He paused at the door.
Didn’t turn around.
“Three o’clock.
Be there—or I’ll come find you.
And you won’t like what happens then.”
The door closed behind him with a soft click that somehow landed harder than a slam.
I sank onto Eirwen’s couch, trembling.
“What did he mean about rejection rules?”
Eirwen sat beside me and took my hand.
Her fingers were cold.
“When you formally reject a wolf, you have to use their full name, surname, and rank.
Being rejected is—it’s physically painful for wolves.
It can actually kill some of them.
That’s why the protocol is so strict.” A pause.
“Technically, you’re still his mate.”
A beat.
“Is that why he was so angry?” I thought of Caspian—his body against mine, the sounds he’d made.
“When I was with someone else last night.
Could he feel it?”
Eirwen nodded slowly.
It’s part of the bond.”
I pressed my hands over my face.
“Can I call him?
Text the rejection?
There has to be another way.”
“It has to be face-to-face,” she said quietly.
“Using the ancient wolf language.”
The words landed like a sentence.
I buried my face in my hands.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
“What are you going to do?”
I lifted my head.
Something was forming—ragged and desperate, but real.
“I’ll go to the beach.
But instead of saying I do, I’ll formally reject him in front of everyone.
Teach me the words.”
Eirwen’s eyes widened.
“Danae—his wolf would tear you apart before you finished the sentence.
His father is an elder with direct ties to the Alpha.
That kind of public humiliation—you’d pay for it in ways you can’t imagine.”
“Then what?” The desperation cracked through.
“What am I supposed to do, Eirwen?”
She was quiet for a long moment.
“It’s not clean.”
“I don’t care.
Anything is better than marrying him.”
“What if you physically couldn’t make it to the ceremony?” Her voice was careful, measured.
“And it had to look like an accident.”
I stared at her.
“Go put on your wedding dress,” she said.
“And leave the rest to me.”
The woman in the mirror was a stranger.
She was beautiful, technically—chestnut waves pinned with small white flowers, the lightweight beach-ceremony gown floating around her ankles, makeup carefully applied to hide everything beneath.
Gray-green eyes that the blush and the highlight couldn’t quite fix, because the pain behind them was pulling the corners of her mouth down regardless.
I had run out of tears.
“You look stunning,” Eirwen said from the doorway.
Her ocean-blue bridesmaid gown was immaculate.
“Are you ready?”
“How could anyone be ready for something like this?”
“We don’t have to do this.
We could try to get out of the city—”
“He’d find me.” I smoothed the front of the dress.
“I’d rather take this risk than marry him.”
Eirwen checked her watch.
“We need witnesses.
A public place.
The reporters and the influencers who always hang around that seafront restaurant—we need them.”
“I know,” I said.
“I know what to do.”
I followed her out the door.