The moment Aylin stepped into the grand hall, Silas stiffened. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time; she was stunning, caring for herself with the same grace and confidence she had when she first arrived in his castle alone, with only a maid and a few servants by her side.
At first, he believed it was his own mind playing tricks on him, a cruel illusion created by his subconscious to make this moment even more unbearable. But then the scent hit him fully, deep, unmistakable, and laced with something that sent a growl rippling through his chest.
It wasn't just her scent anymore. He felt his jaw clench and an unfamiliar sensation rise in his chest.
It was there, buried beneath her familiar fragrance, delicate yet undeniable.
The scent of an unborn child. A pup. And it did not belong to him. A scent that had no right to cling to her, tarnishing the bond they were supposed to have. He had kept his distance from her for years, refusing to lay claim to her in order to protect her honor—only to discover that she had already given herself to another.
Silas's vision swam with red. The blood in his veins turned to ice, then fire, consuming every rational thought in his mind. His fingers clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms as he fought the primal desire to rip the hall apart. The weight of the room, the presence of his pack, the hushed murmurs of wolves sensing his fury—it all became background noise, meaningless in the face of the betrayal that was now thick in the air.
Aylin came to a halt in mid-step, sensing the shift. The moment stretched unbearably as she looked at him, her golden eyes flickering with confusion, her lips parting as if to inquire as to what was wrong.
Wrong?
Everything was wrong. How dare she ask such a thing? What kind of sick joke was she pulling? His eyes were stinging with rage, and his clenched jaw was ready to bite. What exactly was he waiting for?
The Moon Goddess had chosen him a mate—the woman who would bear his heirs and stand by his side—but she was carrying another male's child.
Silas forced himself to breathe, but each inhale only brought more of that scent, thick and revolting. His wolf howled inside him, writhing in rejection, clawing at his insides as if demanding to be set free to destroy and reclaim what had been stolen from him.
"How dare you?" When the words finally left his mouth, they were nothing more than a rough and raw growl, dragging against his throat like shards of glass.
Aylin froze, the blood draining from her face. "Silas?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
His heart twisted at the way she said his name, the raw, gut-wrenching innocence in her tone—innocence that no longer belonged to her. She had forfeited that the moment she had allowed another man to touch what was his.
"Who?" he demanded. The hall was so silent that even the faintest rustle of fabric could be heard. His wolves stood still, waiting, their eyes darting between their Alpha and the woman who had once been meant to be their Luna.
She swallowed, her fingers trembling as they reached for her stomach. She didn't need to answer. The truth was already there, living inside her.
A growl rumbled from his chest, deep and foreboding, shaking through the floor. "You disgust me."
Aylin flinched. It was the first time he had ever looked at her with nothing but contempt. The first time his voice had been void of any warmth, any hint of the bond they were supposed to share.
Her lips quivered, but she did not say anything. Instead, she lowered her eyes and her head, as if the weight of his rejection was too heavy to bear.
"Enough!" His voice cracked like a whip, reverberating off the stone walls, causing even the strongest warriors to bow their heads in submission. But Aylin, Aylin stood there motionless, head bowed, her silence a scream louder than words.
He should have been satisfied by her pain. But it only made the betrayal fester deeper.
Silas waited for her, for the right moment; he never touched a woman just to have her, and she betrayed him in the worst way. He would rather die by her hands than this.
His hands curled into fists, his breathing ragged. He couldn't bear to look at her. He couldn't stand the way her presence, once soothing, now felt like poison in his lungs. The bond between them, once unbreakable, now hung in tattered ruins. He would never touch her again. Never claim her. Never let his pack be tainted by her betrayal.
Silas turned away, but his voice carried through the hall like a death sentence.
"Aylin Lancaster," he said coldly, "for your disgrace, for the insult you have brought upon me and my pack, I banish you. You are no longer of Silverclaw. You are no longer welcome in my land. From this moment forward, you are an exile."
A horrified gasp echoed through the assembled wolves. Exile. A punishment worse than death. A lone wolf with no pack or protection. No home.
Aylin's breath caught and her hands flew to her stomach, as if to protect the life within her from the weight of his decree. "Silas, please," she whispered, stepping forward. "Don't do this."
He didn't turn back. He didn't allow himself to look at her breaking before him.
"Leave," he said, voice like steel. "Now."
For a long time, nothing happened. Aylin stood frozen, tears silently falling down her cheeks. Her whole body trembled as the truth of his words sank into her bones, breaking her from the inside out.
Then, with the weight of his rejection crushing her, she turned, leaving the home she had always known and the pack that had once been her family. Each step was heavier than the last, dragging her closer to the fate he had sentenced her to.
No one stopped her.
And Silas, Silas never looked back.