His eyes lit up. He hadn't expected me to say yes that easily.
And there it was. The truth of it, laid bare in the fraction of a second before he remembered to rearrange his face. Not relief that I understood. Not guilt. Not even surprise, not really. Joy. Pure, uncomplicated joy, bright as a flame in his eyes, there and gone in a heartbeat. The joy of a wolf who had just been handed exactly what he wanted without having to fight for it.
My wolf did not keen again. She did not howl, did not snarl, did not throw herself against the cage of my ribs. She simply lay down. Quietly. The way a wolf lies down when it has decided that something is dead and there is no longer any reason to stand guard over the body.
I held his gaze and felt nothing at all.
His friends all wore expressions that said they'd seen this coming a mile away.
"Really."
I nodded. "Have the dissolution documents drawn up and signed for me. Theron, the pack you lead now is one we built together. If we're severing the bond, I'm taking half the territory. That's fair, isn't it?"
"More than fair. Take all of it if you want. It's just a formality anyway!"
He shot his packmates a cocky look, and the whole group burst into applause and low howls of approval.
"Theron, you absolute legend! Living the dream with a she-wolf on each arm. Can't even be jealous!"
My eyes were ice. He didn't notice.
Something deep in my chest stirred, a cold, quiet thing. My wolf, who had been silent for so long, pressed against the inside of my ribs. Not in grief. In focus.
Corvina said she was hungry. She wanted some bone broth.
Theron rounded up his packmates and left immediately to get it for her. On his way out, he turned back to me. "Sera, are you hungry? Want me to grab you something?"
"I'm fine. Don't bother."
"Then take good care of Corvina for me, will you? She said her chest is sore from the milk coming in..."
The door clicked shut. Just the two of us now.
The room changed the instant they left. The air thinned. Corvina's scent, that honeysuckle and warm vanilla layered over something cloying and faintly chemical, spread without restraint, no longer tempered by the performance she put on for Theron. It was the scent of a she-wolf who had stopped pretending.
She turned to me with a look that was pure provocation.