Daemon's POV
"You're making a mistake, Daemon."
My father's voice came through the phone like a knife—sharp, cold, and cutting straight to the point. I pressed the device harder against my ear, staring at myself in the mirror. Perfect hair. Perfect suit. Perfect mask of a smile that never reached my eyes.
"I haven't done anything yet," I said.
"Exactly. You haven't done what I told you to do." His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "Tonight, you will dance with Vivienne Frost. You will smile at her. You will make it clear to every pack leader at that Ball that she is your choice."
"She's not my choice. You chose her."
The words came out before I could stop them. Stupid. Dangerous. My father didn't tolerate disrespect, even from his heir.
"I chose the alliance that will make our pack the most powerful in the territory," he snapped. "Your feelings don't matter. Your duty matters. The Frost Pack has connections we need. Vivienne is perfect bloodline, perfect breeding, perfect political asset. You will marry her, Daemon. End of discussion."
The line went dead.
I threw my phone across the room. It hit the wall but didn't break—like everything else in my life, built to last, built to endure, built to never show cracks no matter how much pressure was applied.
"Dude, that's your third phone this month." My best friend Marcus walked into my room without knocking, grinning like he hadn't just watched me lose it. "Your dad again?"
"When is it not my dad?" I grabbed my jacket, suddenly desperate to leave. To escape. To be anywhere but in this suffocating penthouse where every wall reminded me I wasn't a person—I was a crown prince, a future Alpha, a political chess piece.
"Hey." Marcus's voice softened. He knew. We'd been friends since we were kids, back before I understood that freedom was something other people got to have. "It's just one dance, right? Smile, play nice, then ditch her and actually enjoy the party."
I wished it was that simple. But nothing in my life was simple. Every smile was calculated. Every word was measured. Every choice I made was watched, judged, and controlled by a man who cared more about power than his own son.
"Let's just go," I said, heading for the door. "The sooner this night starts, the sooner it ends."
Vivienne was waiting in the lobby of my building, and she looked like a predator who'd already won. Her dress probably cost more than most people's cars. Her smile was sharp and victorious.
"There's my future mate," she purred, linking her arm through mine before I could stop her. Her touch made my skin crawl, but I didn't pull away. Couldn't pull away. Too many people watching.
"We're not mates, Vivienne," I said quietly.
"Not yet." She squeezed my arm harder, nails digging in through my jacket. "But we will be. Your father promised."
That was the problem. My father promised everything. My future. My freedom. My life. And I was supposed to just accept it because I was born to be Alpha.
The Ball was already crowded when we arrived. Music pounded. People danced. Everyone turned to watch us enter—the perfect prince and his perfect almost-mate. I smiled the smile I'd practiced since childhood. Vivienne waved like a queen.
I felt like I was drowning.
"Dance with me," Vivienne demanded, pulling me toward the dance floor.
"In a minute. I need air."
"Daemon—"
I pulled my arm free and walked away before she could grab me again. Let people gossip. Let my father hear about it later. Right now, I needed to breathe.
The garden doors were open, fairy lights glowing in the darkness. I stepped outside, grateful for the quiet, for the space, for thirty seconds where nobody was watching me perform.
Then my wolf went insane.
It happened so fast I didn't understand at first. My wolf—the predator I'd learned to control, to dominate, to keep perfectly leashed—ripped through every barrier I'd built and howled one word that changed everything:
MATE.
No. That was impossible. I didn't have a mate. The mate bond was rare, and I was supposed to marry Vivienne for political reasons, not—
The pull hit me like a physical blow. An invisible rope wrapped around my heart and yanked hard, dragging me forward. My feet moved without permission, following a scent I hadn't noticed before—wild roses and old books and something that made every instinct in my body scream mine.
She was standing by the fountain, looking at the stars like she'd never seen them before. Silver-blonde hair catching moonlight. Small and delicate in a simple dress. When she turned toward me, I saw her face and my brain short-circuited.
The Omega girl. The one who worked at the library. The one everyone ignored.
Our eyes met.
The mate bond exploded into existence—golden light, burning heat, absolute certainty. She was mine. Mine. Every cell in my body recognized her, wanted her, needed her.
Then my father's voice echoed in my head: Perfect bloodline. Perfect breeding. Your duty matters.
I looked at my mate—truly looked at her—and saw what everyone else would see. Scars on her wrists. Cheap dress. Omega status. Everything my father said I couldn't have.
Horror replaced joy. This couldn't be happening. Not her. Not now. Not when everything in my life was already decided.
"No," I whispered.
She flinched like I'd hit her. Her eyes—beautiful storm-gray eyes—filled with understanding and pain. She knew. She knew what I was thinking.
She turned to run.
My hand shot out on instinct, catching her wrist. The mate bond burned where we touched, sending electricity through my entire body. My wolf was howling in joy. My brain was screaming in panic.
"Wait."
Wrong word. Wrong move. Because suddenly everyone was watching. The music stopped. Conversations died. Phones appeared, recording. My father stepped into the garden doorway, his face a mask of fury. Vivienne stood beside him, her expression promising murder.
I was holding an Omega's hand in front of the entire university. In front of pack leaders. In front of everyone who mattered.
My father's eyes met mine across the garden. The message was clear: Fix this. Now.
I looked down at my mate. She was shaking. Tears pooled in her eyes but hadn't fallen yet. She was stronger than she looked—I could feel it through the bond. But she was also terrified.
Of me.
Do it, my brain screamed. Reject her. Save your future. Save your pack. Be the Alpha heir you were raised to be.
But she's our mate, my wolf howled back. Our perfect other half. We'll never find another.
The crowd pressed closer. Vivienne's smile was vicious. My father's glare could have melted steel.
I had to choose. My mate or my duty. Love or power. Freedom or the cage I'd lived in my entire life.
My mouth opened.
The words came out before I could stop them—formal, final, loud enough for everyone to hear:
"I, Daemon Blackthorn, heir to the Blackthorn Pack, reject you as my mate."
The moment the words left my mouth, agony exploded through my body. The golden bond turned black, poisoning, corrupting. My wolf roared in anguish. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart.
But it was nothing—nothing—compared to watching her face.
She made a sound like a wounded animal. Blood dripped from her nose. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed.
I reached for her instinctively, but someone else got there first. Professor Nightshade appeared from nowhere, catching my mate before she hit the ground.
The Professor looked at me with disgust. "You have no idea what you just did."
Then she carried my unconscious mate away, and I stood there in the garden, surrounded by cheering friends and approving pack leaders and my father's satisfied smile.
I'd done my duty. I'd rejected the unsuitable Omega. I'd chosen my pack over my heart.
So why did it feel like I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life?
And why was my wolf still howling one terrifying truth:
She's dying. The rejection is killing her. And when she dies, we die too.