<h4>Chapter 39: Chapter 39: THE REJECTION RITUAL</h4>


    <strong>MAEVE’S POV</strong>


    The full moon shone a brilliant shade of silver, trickling into the grounds of the sacred hall—a silent witness to the separation ritual that was about to take ce between Ivan and me.


    As promised, Ivan had taken care of everything quite nicely. I hadn’t seen him since the night he’d shown up uninvited in my room.


    It was almost as though he had gone out of his way to avoid me—which... worked out quite the way I wanted.


    Except that my mind kept wondering and wandering at the edges, kept drifting back to that look on his face when Asha screamed at him.


    My heart twisted.


    At least he was here now, face hardened into an expressionless mask.


    The sacred hall had been marked with chalk, and candlesticks dangled from different corners of the room, their mes casting dancing shadows across the stone walls.


    Apart from the priest, Revierrie—who I’d learned would be officiating the severance—there were two other witnesses in the room.


    One was Francis, Ivan’s beta. The other was a middle-aged elder with worry lines permanently etched into his forehead, like he hadn’t known peace in decades.


    Both witnesses stood right outside the edge of the chalk marks, watching in tense silence as Revierrie finished thest of his chants.


    The air felt heavier than ever, thick with the reality of what we hade here to do.


    I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling a cold shiver trail down my spine.


    After days of bickering and ming each other for every goddamn thing, Ivan and I were finally going to do it—sever the mating bond between us.


    I’d always thought about it in the abstract, as something distant.


    But now that it was real, now that it was here, I could feel the gnawing ache of the bond pressing against my chest like a living, breathing entity wing at my insides.


    I had always felt the bond as an extension of myself. A sacred part of my bond with my wolf. But now I felt it more vividly than ever.


    It’s probably just nerves.


    Ivan stood tall and intimidating as always in front of me. His shoulders were drawn tight, fists clenched brutally like he was holding back a thousand emotions.


    As expected, his eyes held no warmth when they met mine. Cold. Closed-off. Distant.


    And yet, I couldn’t help but notice how the moon’s light fell on his face—highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, softening the cold gray of his irises into something that almost looked... torn. Beautiful, too.


    I hated that I could still notice that.


    I swallowed the sudden lump rising in my throat.


    This was what I wanted. No regrets.


    Yes, there had been a time when the bond had given me happiness—brief, blinding, dizzying happiness. But now, it was a chain.


    A living reminder of what had been. Of what would never be again. An anchor dragging me back into memories I’d worked too hard to bury.


    And I didn’t want the past. Not when I had a future to protect. A child to raise. A life to rebuild.


    Once more, I reminded myself: cutting the bond was the only way to truly move on.


    Once it was done, I would walk away with my head held high, and Ivan—he would be nothing more than a name that made my stomach churn.


    So... why did I still feel this hesitation?


    "Are you ready?" Revierrie asked. The abruptness of his tone startled me, and I barely held back the flinch that rippled through me.


    "Yes," I said, exhaling hard. "Let’s get this over with." I rubbed my palms together and nced at Ivan.


    He looked away almost instantly, passing a stiff nod to the priest.


    "Right," Revierrie muttered, lips tightening as he looked between us. "Before we begin, I feel inclined to ask one more time: Is this truly what you both want? It’s not toote to back down. Say the word and we’ll call the whole thing off."


    He was giving us an out.


    Why now?


    Ivan’s jaw ticked. Tension stiffened his posture, and for a second, I braced for the explosion. It didn’te. Just... that quiet. Long and unending. It grew so loud, it felt like a scream in my ears.


    And that’s when I knew—without him saying a word—I knew he was.. conflicted.


    He still felt the bond. He still felt it pulling at him, same way I did.


    But feeling it wasn’t enough.


    We were too far gone. Too much had been broken.


    For years, we’d slung hurt at each other like knives. And no matter how much I hated to admit it, I hade to believe that the goddess had made a mistake binding me to a man like Ivan.


    A cold, selfish narcissist who could never see beyond himself.


    I forced out a shaky breath and shoved down the painful memories—the rare moments when he’d shown vulnerability.


    When he’d looked at Asha like he saw the whole world in that boy. When he used to trace constetions on my skin and call me "his universe."


    Those versions of Ivan were dangerous. Because they made you forget everything else. They made you forget the pain. The abandonment. The betrayal. And they neversted.


    I wasn’t sticking around to see if this time would be different.


    I had Devon.


    He was my second chance mate, and we loved each other.


    As I thought it, a cold gust of wind seeped in through the window shutters, causing another unsolicited shiver to trickle down my spine.


    I clenched my fists, steeling my resolve. When I returned my gaze to the priest, my eyes were hard.


    "Do it. End this goddess-forsaken, wretched bond."


    Whatever inhibitions Ivan seemed to harbor about our severance ritual disappeared at the sound of my biting words.


    It was almost as if he’d been doused with cold water. This time, his scowl was a condescending work of art as he hissed his orders at the priest.


    "I have no use for a lying, two-faced she-wolf. Get on with the ritual, Revierrie."


    "Ditto. I’ve wasted enough years tethered to a self-serving, narcissistic asshole." Myeback was instant, armed with an ego that refused to let him have thest word.


    If I was being honest, I was slightly hurt by his usations—not that I would ever admit it out loud.


    "Perfect. Makes it easier to forget you ever existed." Ivan said without blinking, easily sliding his gaze back to the priest.


    My heart hurt. Did he mean that?


    Revierrie looked ufortable, caught in the crossfire between us.


    "Right then. I guess that’s my cue to begin the ritual."