Divorce: The High Alpha's Greatest Mistake

"Take your clothes off the floor and put this on." Leighton Ashford's voice cuts through the dim light of the bedroom, cold and stripped of any heat.

Eudora's hands shake as she pulls the silk tunic over her head. Her skin still burns where his mark refused to take. The heavy scent of rut, white sage, and sweat fills the room. Beyond the bathroom door, the roar of running water fills the silence. Her thighs ache, bruised purple from the force of his hips against hers moments ago. He had taken her body like a beast driven by dark instincts, yet his wolf remained completely silent, locked away behind an icy wall.

She bends down, her spine stiffening with pain as she gathers her clothes from the floor. She opens the heavy wooden window, letting the freezing mountain breeze sweep out the scent of their night.

For two years, she lived as his shadow. Leighton Ashford is the High Alpha of the Frostmere Dominion and head of Ashford Moon Holdings, a wolf whose word commands entire packs. She is just an Omega born without a noble bloodline, brought to his side by a sudden decree. She spent every day caring for his home and tending to his routine, making sure he had a quiet sanctuary to return to.

The bath stops running. Leighton steps out, wrapping a dark robe around his broad chest. Wet dark hair frames a face that looks like it was carved from stone.

"I cleared the sheets," Eudora says softly. "You should rest. The pack council meets at dawn."

Leighton does not look at her. He walks to his desk, pulls a document from the top drawer, and tosses it onto the bed between them.

"Sign it," he says, his voice flat.

Eudora reaches out, her fingers touching the paper. "What is this, Leighton?"

He does not answer. Instead, he strikes a match and lights a cigar, blowing a cloud of grey smoke between them.

Eudora opens the document. The bold black words at the top hit her like a punch to the chest.

SEVERANCE OF PACK BOND AND DIVORCE OF CONSORT

The air leaves her lungs. Her vision blurs. The blood drains from her face, and the paper falls from her fingers to the floor.

"You want to sever our bond?" Eudora whispers. "A divorce?"

Ten minutes ago, his mouth was on her neck. His hands were on her waist, taking her with a violent passion that made her believe he belonged to her. Now he stands three feet away, smoking casually, throwing away their marriage like dirt off his boots.

"Yes," Leighton says, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling.

"Why?" She takes a step back, her spine hitting the bedpost. "Why now? What did I do wrong?"

She had loved him with everything she had. When he brought her to the Frostmere Dominion, every elder sneered at her lowborn blood. Yet Leighton had stood before the Great Oak, named her his Luna, and forced the pack to bow. He took her to the market, bought her jewels, settled the disputes tearing her mother’s clan apart, and came home to her every night. She thought she was living a dream.

Leighton turns his gaze to her, the light in his eyes completely dead.

"Sybil Hargrove has returned from the Northern Wastes," he says without pausing. "My true Fated Mate is back. I love her, Eudora. Not you."

Something rips through Eudora’s chest. She looks into his eyes, searching for a trace of the man who held her through the winter, but finds nothing. He is just an Alpha standing over an Omega who no longer matters.

Eudora digs her fingernails into the bedside table, pressing until the wood splinters her skin. Blood pools on the surface, but the pain means nothing compared to the empty space in her chest.

She swallows the bitterness in her mouth, looks him in the eye, and nods once.

"Alright," she says softly.

Leighton sets a heavy silver ring on the table beside her hand. "Sign the paper tonight. The Moon-Bond Attorney, Percival Sloane, will arrive before sunrise to finish it. You will leave for the Northmoon Estates by noon."

He turns his back and walks toward the balcony without another word.

Eudora drops to her knees on the cold stone. She picks up the iron quill, her hand shaking as she holds it over the line reserved for the Alpha Consort.

Before the ink touches the paper, a horn blasts across the courtyard—three long notes signaling an emergency call from the Alpha Matriarch.

A guard slams the chamber door open, his face pale. "High Alpha! The attorney was ambushed on Southmoon Road! They found his carriage destroyed, and he left a message written in blood with your name on it!"

"Take these pack seals and property deeds, Eudora Whitlock," Moon-Bond Attorney Percival Sloane says, pushing a heavy leather folder across the granite table in the dim dawn light of the lodge. "High Alpha Leighton Ashford set aside a massive treasury share for your severance. The Northmoon Estates, three hunting lodges in Wolfpine Village, and prime retail property across Eastfang Avenue, Westfang Avenue, Southmoon Road, and Northfang Road. The total value exceeds eighty-four million silver tokens. Please sign."

Eudora looks down at the parchment bound in wolf-hide, then slides the folder back across the table.

"I do not want his wealth," Eudora says, her voice flat and steady.

Percival Sloane frowns, adjusting his glasses. "This is the explicit command of the High Alpha, Madam Whitlock. He expects every single title deed transferred before the week ends."

"Where is Leighton now?" Eudora asks, her throat tight while her inner wolf whimpers in the dark.