The rain had returned.

It fell in a soft, persistent veil over the neutral territory gardens where the packs sometimes held tense meetings. Elena had come here hoping for solitude after the warehouse incident—somewhere to breathe, to process the way Nikolai’s presence had shattered her composure yet again.

She should have known better.

Nikolai Volkov found her standing beneath an ancient oak tree, its branches heavy with rain. She wore a simple cream cashmere sweater and dark jeans, her long chestnut hair damp and curling at the ends. Even without the glamour of a gala gown, she looked heartbreakingly beautiful.

Nikolai’s wolf had been clawing at him for hours, refusing to settle after witnessing her healing that young scout. The scent memory of her power—warm, golden, *hers*—had followed him into sleep and haunted every waking moment.

He approached with long, predatory strides, his black coat flapping in the wind, rain glistening on his raven hair. His ice-grey eyes burned with silver intensity as he stopped just feet away from her.

“Elena Voss,” he growled, voice low and rough. “I warned you.”

Elena turned slowly, her hazel-green eyes meeting his without flinching. The fated mate bond ignited instantly, sending a rush of heat through her body despite the cold rain. His scent—cedarwood, leather, and wild male power—wrapped around her like invisible chains, making her pulse race.

“Alpha Volkov,” she replied softly, keeping her voice steady. “If this is about last night—”

“It is,” he cut her off, stepping closer. The air between them crackled with tension. “You were told to stay away from my pack. Yet I find you secretly healing my wolves like some saint trying to buy loyalty.”

Elena’s hands tightened at her sides. “Caleb would have suffered greatly without help. I didn’t ask for thanks. I don’t want anything from you.”

Nikolai let out a harsh, bitter laugh that sent chills down her spine. He towered over her, his powerful frame radiating dominance and barely leashed fury. Rain dripped from his sharp jawline as he leaned in, silver-flecked eyes boring into hers.

“You expect me to believe that?” His voice dropped into something darker, crueler. “You Voss family have been trying to sink your claws into my pack for years through that ancient betrothal. Now that I’ve chosen a real Luna—someone who actually earned her place by saving my life—you suddenly appear everywhere, playing the selfless healer. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Elena’s breath caught. The words sliced deep, but she held her ground, chin lifted with quiet dignity.

“I have never tried to manipulate you,” she said, voice trembling only slightly. “The betrothal was arranged by our families long before either of us had a choice. I accepted it because I believed in duty. In fate.”

“Fate?” Nikolai’s laugh was cold and cutting. He stepped even closer until she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. His wolf was going wild inside him, howling at the proximity, demanding he touch her, taste her, claim the woman whose scent drove him to the brink of madness.

“You think I don’t see what this is?” he continued, voice laced with venom. “A rich heiress who grew up with everything handed to her, now desperate to secure power through marriage to the strongest Alpha on the East Coast. You probably planned this from the beginning—waiting for the perfect moment to insert yourself into my life after Lana saved me.”

Each accusation landed like a physical blow. Elena’s chest tightened painfully. The fated mate bond screamed in protest, the invisible thread between them pulling taut with desperate need even as his words destroyed her.

“That’s not true,” she whispered. “I never—”

“Enough.” Nikolai’s hand shot out, not touching her, but hovering near her arm as if he couldn’t decide whether to push her away or pull her closer. “Stay away from my Luna. Stay away from my pack. And stay the hell away from me. The betrothal is dead. I will have it formally dissolved by the end of the week. You will never be Luna of the Volkov pack. Not while I live.”

Tears burned behind Elena’s eyes. She had held them back through the public humiliation at dinner, through his coldness at the warehouse. But here, alone with him under the rain, the weight of his cruel words finally cracked her composure.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, mixing with the rain.

Nikolai froze.

He watched that tear trail down her porcelain skin, and something vicious twisted in his chest. His wolf whimpered, frantic and furious at the sight of her pain. The primal instinct to protect her—to wipe that tear away and replace it with his lips—slammed into him so hard he nearly staggered.

Yet he forced himself to stand rigid, jaw clenched.

“Why are you crying?” he demanded harshly. “Did you really think your little act would work on me? That I would throw away the woman who dragged me from death for a spoiled heiress who only wants my title and power?”

Elena’s lower lip trembled. Another tear followed the first. She didn’t wipe them away. Instead, she looked up at him with quiet, devastating honesty.

“I saved you that night,” she said, voice breaking. “On the coastal road. In the storm. It was me. My hands. My power. I poured everything I had into healing you while you were dying. You gave me the medallion. You said I was yours.”

For one shattering second, Nikolai’s expression flickered—confusion, a flash of fragmented memory, the ghost of glowing hands and a gentle voice. His wolf roared in recognition.

Then the walls slammed back down.

“Lies,” he snarled, stepping back as if her words had burned him. “Lana had the medallion. She told me what happened. You’re just trying to twist this to your advantage.”

Elena let out a soft, broken sound—half sob, half laugh. The tears fell freely now, but she refused to look away from him.

“You feel it too,” she whispered. “The pull. The bond. Your wolf knows the truth even if you refuse to see it. But go ahead, Alpha. Choose your thief. Punish me for daring to care. Just know that every time you touch her, every time you call her yours… you’re breaking something that fate itself tried to give you.”

Nikolai’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. The need to grab her, to kiss her until she stopped crying, until she smelled only of him, was almost overwhelming. His wolf was tearing at his control, furious at the pain they were causing their mate.

But gratitude and pride won.

“Stay out of my sight, Elena Voss,” he said, voice ice-cold and final. “Or I will make sure your family pays for your ambition.”

He turned sharply and walked away, shoulders rigid against the rain.

Elena watched him disappear into the trees, her body shaking with silent sobs. The first tears she had allowed herself in years continued to fall, hot against her rain-chilled skin.

She pressed a hand to her chest, where the fated mate bond throbbed with agonizing emptiness.

The man destined for her had just torn her heart apart with his own hands.

And the worst part was… she still wanted to heal him.

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