If she couldn’t have his loyalty, she would leave him with a guilt that gnawed deeper than any wolf’s bite.
“That… is a grave request,” the voice on the crystal-comms murmured.
“Payment won’t be an issue,” Freya cut in.
After ending the call, she looked at the carved stone portrait of their family—three wolves smiling in harmony. Her gaze dimmed.
She still remembered the day he marked her. The moment Riven had trembled so hard he nearly botched the ritual.
During their union ceremony, he’d cried openly before the gathered packs, swearing eternal devotion under the Moonstone Oath.
When their pup was born, he had kissed the sweat from her temple and promised one pup was enough. He had even secretly undergone a spellbinding to ensure it.
They had been the perfect pack. The family everyone envied.
No matter how busy he was, Riven always returned with moon-petals in his hands. He’d tell her, “Loving you is like tending a sacred grove. I want to watch you bloom every dawn.”
Even little Kael mimicked him. He carried her satchels on tiny arms, insisting he was her “little wolf knight.” His small face flushed with effort, but he never let her lift a claw.