Chapter 2: Dream On

Lysandra's POV

Tristan froze above me. His hands loosened their grip on my wrists as he pulled back from my neck, his expression shifting from lust to disbelief. I seized the opportunity to slide my hands protectively over my stomach, an instinctive gesture to shield the tiny lives growing inside me.

"You know what you're saying?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous low.

I searched his face for any sign of hurt or regret, but found only cold fury in those stormy eyes. Of course he wasn't upset. Nullifying the mark would free him from our sham mating, give him what he truly wanted – freedom to be with Selene without the inconvenience of a mate. I was nothing but an obligation forced upon him by his father.

"I'm saying I want to end the bond." My voice broke as tears welled in my eyes. "I can't live like this anymore."

Tristan stood up from the bed, his tall frame looming over me. A flash of silver crossed his eyes – his wolf stirring beneath the surface. His fists clenched and unclenched, knuckles turning white with restrained violence.

"Boring," he said dismissively. "You're nothing but trouble. A worthless wolfless werewolf dares to mention bond severance?" His voice deepened, dripping with threat. "Your very existence is an insult to the purity of the Silverblood Pack."

His brow furrowed in pure Alpha contempt, dangerous light dancing in his eyes. The air in the room grew heavy with his anger, almost suffocating. Despite my fear, I found strength in thinking of my unborn children. I wouldn't let them grow up in this toxic environment.

I reached toward the bedside drawer, my hand trembling slightly as I retrieved the severance scroll. "I'm not joking. I'm serious." I held them out for him to see. "Look at the date—I've been preparing for a long time."

"What are these?" he snarled, disgust twisting his features. He snatched the scroll from my hand, scanning them quickly.

"I've already signed them. You just need to sign, and I'll no longer be your wife or your burden."

Tristan threw the scroll to the floor, stomping on them as he passed. "What do you take me for? A puppet you can manipulate at will? You think you can do whatever you want?" His voice dropped to a feral growl. "No one, no one dictates terms to me."

In a blur of movement, his hand shot out, wrapping around my throat. His fingers dug into my skin as his eyes transformed completely into blood-red orbs – the Blood Gaze, a rare manifestation of Alpha rage. The pressure of his fingers made it hard to breathe.

"I could snap your neck as easily as crushing an insect," he whispered.

I clawed at his fingers, gasping for air. "I'm... leaving the Silverblood Pack."

A laugh burst from his lips, cold and mocking. "Are you serious? A defective specimen like you without even a pathetic wolf? Where would you go if you left my pack? Who would take in a useless werewolf? You'd become a rogue, hunted, killed."

His grip tightened, pulling me closer to his face. "You think the outside world would be kind to a stray wolf? You'd be prey, torn apart by any passing Alpha. If you're lucky, maybe you'd end up as a whore in some low-ranking pack. Is that the freedom you want?"

I stared into his hate-filled eyes, my chest tightening with a pain so sharp I could hardly breathe. How could he hate me so much, when I had given him everything I had? I wasn't the only one he slept with, but I was the only one he despised.

I had fallen for him at the first sight. I had loved him for so long, in silence, through all the hurt, always hoping he might one day love me back.

"I-I stayed in this marriage because I thought someday we would have children, build a happy family—"

Tristan's laughter cut me off, harsh and mocking. "Children? How can you be so naive? You think I would let you carry my heir, you filthy aberration? The next Alpha of the Silverblood Pack born to a mother without a wolf? You're only fit to be a plaything, not a mother."

His words struck like physical blows, but they also strengthened my resolve. A flicker of determination hardened in my eyes. I would protect my unborn children no matter what it took. I imagined them growing up far from this toxic environment, safe from Tristan's cruelty.

"Why won't you sign?" I managed. "End this. It's better for both of us."

"You think I won't sign? You think I want to keep you?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Dream on."

Something deep inside me—some small, broken part that hadn't quite given up—had hoped he might reconsider. That he'd tell me he didn't want me to go. That the past two years hadn't been entirely a lie.

Instead, he snatched the scroll from the floor and grabbed a pen from the nightstand. With aggressive strokes, he signed his name and threw the pen down hard enough to crack the plastic casing.

"You know this is just the beginning, right? There's still the Severance Rite."

"I know the rules," I said, my voice shaking slightly.

A cruel smile twisted his lips, malice gleaming in his eyes. "But do you know the pain? The feeling of hooks tearing out your insides?"

He leaned in until his face was inches from mine. "I'm going to savor every moment of watching you writhe in agony during the ceremony. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out a credit card and thrust it into my hand. "Take this. Consider it payment for your bedroom services these past two years. After all, that's the only thing you were marginally good at."

He turned and stalked from the room, his Alpha presence leaving with him. The air instantly became lighter, easier to breathe.

Tears streamed down my face as I lowered my head. Used. That's all I'd ever been to him. The last shred of hope I'd harbored died a quiet death in that moment.

I placed the credit card on the bedside table, refusing to accept such an insult. Moving to the closet, I pulled out a suitcase and began methodically packing my belongings. My eyes fell on the calendar where tomorrow's date was marked – the full moon, perfect timing for the Severance Rite.

My hand drifted to my stomach, feeling a subtle flutter that might have been my imagination or perhaps the twins responding to my touch.

"I'm sorry, my moonbeams," I whispered. "I have to take you away from your father to protect you."

As I closed the suitcase, determination replaced my fear. "I will never forget this, Tristan Wolfbane."