Liora's s POV
Liora stopped at the threshold.
Light spilled from the room in warm, golden strokes, painting the corridor in shadows that felt too intimate, too alive. The scent hit her fully now—soft jasmine and honey, unmistakably feminine, threaded with something private.
Her mate bond did not stir.
It recoiled.
For one desperate heartbeat, she prayed she was wrong.
Then she saw him.
Kael stood beside the bed, his broad shoulders angled toward another woman seated at its edge. A healer—Liora recognized her now. The woman's hair fell in loose curls, her posture relaxed, familiar. Her fingers rested lightly on Kael's forearm, as though she belonged there.
As though Liora did not.
Kael leaned closer, his expression unreadable but present in a way Liora had spent years begging for.
It was the kind of closeness that required no explanation.
The world went silent.
No breath. No sound. Just the slow, sick realization spreading through her chest as if her ribs were cracking open from the inside. Every instinct screamed for her to turn away—to flee before the truth finished breaking her.
She couldn't move.
When Kael finally turned and saw her, the expression in his eyes wasn't guilt.
It was irritation.
As if she were the inconvenience.
"Liora," he said flatly. "You shouldn't be here."
Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.
The healer laughed softly, the sound light and unrestrained. A sound Liora had never drawn from her mate. The woman rose, smoothing her skirts, her lips curving in something close to sympathy—though her eyes glittered with quiet triumph.
"I'm sorry," the healer murmured, though the words rang hollow.
Kael didn't look at Liora. "This isn't what you think."
Liora found her voice at last. It came out thin, sharp. "Then what is it?"
His jaw tightened. "She was checking on Arlo."
The words struck like a slap.
"You were touching her."
His gaze snapped to hers, warning flaring cold and unmistakable. "Mind your tone."
That did it.
Something deep inside Liora snapped clean in two.
"I am not one of your warriors," she said quietly, gripping the doorframe to keep herself upright. "I am not a child to be corrected. I am your mate."
Kael exhaled through his nose, already done. "You're emotional. We'll discuss this when you've calmed down."
Not if. When.
Dismissal, precise and practiced.
The healer slipped past Liora, her perfume trailing like a challenge. Liora didn't look at her. She couldn't. If she did, she might tear something apart—and there were consequences she couldn't afford.
She walked away without another word.
Back in her chambers, the silence closed in.
Arlo slept curled in his bed, lashes resting against flushed cheeks, utterly unaware that the world he trusted had fractured. The sight of him undid her. Liora covered her mouth, stifling the sound that clawed its way up her throat.
She slid down the wall until she hit the floor.
Her wolf paced inside her, restless and furious, pressing against the confines of restraint. There was no enemy to fight. No wound to heal.
Only truth.
By dawn, she still hadn't slept.
The door opened without ceremony.
Kael entered as though nothing had changed, already dressed, already armored in authority. His presence filled the room. His scent still betrayed her body, traitorous and aching.
"You didn't sleep," he observed.
She didn't respond.
His attention shifted to Arlo as the boy stirred. Instantly, Kael softened. "Morning, little wolf."
Arlo's grin was blinding. Kael lifted him easily, kissed his forehead, murmured something gentle that twisted like a knife in Liora's chest.
"Go play," Kael said, setting him down. "Daddy needs to talk to Mommy."
The door closed behind their son
Kael faced her. "You're still upset."
"Yes."
A pause. He studied her like a problem to be solved. "There is nothing between us."
Liora met his gaze without flinching. "Then why does she smell like you?"
For the first time, something cracked.
Annoyance. Guilt. Anger.
"You're imagining things," he said. "You've been distant lately. You're projecting."
Gaslighting, clean and effortless.
The final blow landed.
"I waited for you," Liora said, rising slowly. "I defended you. I loved you quietly so you wouldn't feel pressured. And while I was shrinking myself to fit your silence, you were giving her what you denied me."
The words hung between them.
Kael turned away first. "I have meetings."
Of course he did.
He left without looking back.
Later, Liora made breakfast for Arlo, her hands steady by sheer force of will. He chattered happily while she rinsed his bowl, until the scent reached her again.
Jasmine.
On her son.
Her breath stalled. "Where were you this morning?"
Arlo beamed. "Daddy's friend fixed my toy!"
Her heart dropped. "What friend?"
"The pretty one," he said proudly. "She said I can call her Auntie."
The room tilted.
Kael hadn't just betrayed her.
He had invited the betrayal into their child's world.
Liora pulled Arlo into her arms too tightly. He laughed, squirming. "Mommy!"
She kissed his hair, swallowing the scream in her chest. "I know. I'm sorry."
Her wolf surged—not in pain this time, but clarity.
This wasn't heartbreak.
This was a warning.
Outside, thunder rolled low and distant. Liora crossed to the window, staring at her reflection—at the woman she barely recognized.
Her eyes were sharp now. Awake.
Something had ended.
And something far more dangerous had begun.
As rain struck the glass, Liora whispered to the storm—
"Never again."