Bonnie leads me through a set of double doors marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. On the other side, a grand dining room is in a general state of constant use and disarray, based on the dishes in both the sink and on the drying rack. Three otherwomen of varying ages, young, old, and middle-aged, sit around a heavy wooden table, seemingly in the middle of a conversation when we walk in.
“Client?” asks the youngest, a sharp-eye blonde.
“Shifter,” Bonnie says, and suddenly three pairs of intense eyes are staring at me. “Tell us why you’re here, Aurora Blackburn. And make it good. We don’t break fated mate bonds lightly—your people have a tendency to frown at us when we do.”
I’ve only got this one chance to get my life back. The story spills out of me in a tangled rush of emotions, including my orphanage and adoption into Pack Jade, as well as my lack of a wolf. Then I tell them about Kieran. Everything from that first rejection five years ago, to the constant ache since, and finally last night’s intimacy and this morning’s cruel awakening. By the end, tears stream down my face, and I don’t care if they’re judging me. No one will ever judge me for trusting Kieran as much as I judge myself.
“I can’t take it anymore.” My voice breaks as I wipe the tears from my face with a handkerchief one of the older witches offers. “This pain is killing me. I feel like my heart might stop beating any minute now. Please, if you can break the bond, I’ll do anything.”
The witches exchange weighted looks. Bonnie, seemingly the leader of the coven, leans forward, her dark eyes intense as she studies me. “Anything?”
I raise my chin and tell them without hesitation, “Absolutely anything at all.”
“We can break the bond.” She tilts her head at me, taking me in from head to toe. “But there’s a price that must be paid first, and lucky for you, you’re the only one who can pay it. We need the blood of Pack Onyx to activate an artifact we recovered from your ancestral lands.”
My breath catches. “What kind of artifact?”
“That’s none of your concern.” Bonnie’s voice is sharp. “The question is, are you willing to pay the price? And I don’t just mean a few drops of your blood. The ritual is intense and painful, and we can’t guarantee that it works. You must be fully willing and committed to break such a bond.”
I hesitate. Gran’s warning about fae bargains echo in my mind, but these aren’t fae, and they aren’t immortal. They’re witches, long-lived and crafty, sometimes our enemies, but other times our reluctant allies.
And right now, the pain in my chest is so intense that I can barely think straight. Whatever the witches do with my blood, it can’t be much worse than what the fae will do if I don’t get my head in the game.
“I’ll do it,” I say decisively. “Whatever you need.”
Bonnie nods, then motions to one of the other woman. When she returns, she’s carrying a glazed porcelain bowl carved with symbols I faintly recognize from the ruins. My blood seems to sting at the sight of it, responding to the latent magic within.
“A few drops should do it,” she says, pulling out an ordinary pocket knife. “Then we’ll perform the ritual to break your bond.”
For a moment, I hesitate. The memory of last night floods back: Kieran’s hands gentle on my skin, his voice rough with desire as he called me perfect, beautiful,his.The way the bond sang between us, whole and complete at last. How it felt to have him within me, how right it was to be held in his arms as I drifted off to sleep…
His cold eyes this morning as I woke from dreaming of him. His casual dismissal. How easily he called me, us, a mistake. The way he’s rejected me not once but twice. He just had to make sure I knew I’m not good enough for him, mere hours after he came inside me.
Taking the knife, I slice my palm and let a few drops of blood fall into the bowl. The symbols carved into its surface flarewith a gentle white light, and power pulses through the room, making the dish rack rattle and the overhead lights flare. I jump, whirling around, only for the magic to dissipate—and the wound on my hand heals faster than even my shifter healing can allow for, closing over almost instantly.
“It’s done,” Bonnie says with satisfaction. “Now for your bond. Stand over there.”
The witches position me in the center of their dining room floor, pushing chairs aside and sliding a sideboard over. They draw an intricate pattern on the floor in chalk, dropping bundles of dried rose petals onto the floor. Few words are spoken as they do it, although occasionally one of them will tell me to move here, look there, or ask me some random fact about myself, like the time I was born.
I tell them everything I know. Then, as they position themselves around me, each at a cardinal point—North, South, East, and West, with Bonnie the North—and face toward me, cupping crude beeswax candles in their hands.
“This is your last chance,” Bonnie warns. “Once we start, we can’t stop until it’s done, not without risking your death. And I’ll warn you only one more time: it’ll hurt like hell. Breaking a mate bond is like tearing out part of your soul. Changing the course of fate is no easy thing, girl, so expect excruciating pain.”
I think of Kieran one final time. His smile, his touch, the ice blue of his eyes, how infuriating he can be—and how protective. The possessive warmth in his voice as he moved inside me, and the way he made me feel whole and complete,enough,for one brief, wonderful moment.
If he hadn’t done that, I never would’ve known how good it could be. Never would’ve felt the pain of missing something I’ve never had. Knowing that I’ll never be enough for him, that I’ll never feel the warmth of his arms around me again, it’s too much to bear, piece of my soul or not.
“Do it,” I tell them. “Break the bond.”
The witches all do something imperceptible that lights their candles. Then they begin to chant in an ancient language I don’t recognize, the words flowing in one ear and out the other without my conscious mind being able to commit them to memory. My skin crawls regardless, and power builds in the air around us, making my hair stand on end. The chalk lines begin to glow with a white-hot, searing light, the same that filled the stone bowl only far more powerful.
That’s when the pain starts.
It feels like someone is reaching into my chest with a fireplace poker and trying to tear out my heart. The feeling spreads like wildfire, to my chest and throat, all the way to my toes, which curl in pain. I scream as the magic takes hold of me and shakes me like a ragdoll, attempting to sever what fate itself forced on me. The bond fights back, pulsing with an agony that makes everything that came up until now seem like a mere mosquito bite.
White-hot fire races through my veins. My bones feel like they’re being crushed. My tendons writhe and my muscles spasm. The bond twists and howls inside me like a feral thing, refusing to be broken.
“Picture it ending,” Bonnie says calmly, her voice coming to me through a constant rain of agony. “Let go of the bond! Remember you want it to be gone!”
