The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Chapter 96: Stubborn mate

I clamped my hand on Jack’s shoulder and gave him a rough shake, leaning in until my voice was the only thing in his universe.

"What did I tell you, Jack? Breathe. It’s all in your head."

His head wobbled up slowly, his pupils dilated and lost. He sucked in breath after frantic breath like a drowning man hitting the surface. Bit by bit, the illusion peeled back from his mind. His legs were still intact. His flesh was unmarred. No blood. No exposed spine. Just a chair. Just me.

Then the reality hit him, and he started to cry.

I rolled my eyes and stepped in front of him with my arms folded, watching the breakdown unfold.

"B-But it felt real! I-I felt it. The pain... I still feel it!" His voice cracked as violent tremors racked his body. Hysteria was crawling in, his mind teetering right on the edge of breaking entirely.

He was weak the second he let the darkness into his soul. And I? I was its master. I bent it, twisted it, and made him feel every agonizing second. Three minutes—that’s all the illusion took. But for Jack, it had felt like a lifetime of bleeding out, of dying over and over again.

Stepping closer, I grabbed his face roughly, forcing his bloodshot eyes to meet mine.

"I could make it real," I said coldly. "Run you through it all over again without the mercy of illusion this time. But honestly? I don’t need to. You’ve already broken. No mate. No grip on reality. And your body is shaking from pain that never even happened."

I leaned in, my voice a quiet mockery. "Now, about that information..."

I placed both hands against his temples and shoved my mind into his.

Jack screamed—a raw, pathetic sound that echoed off the concrete.

His mental defenses were nonexistent. The trauma, the grief, the sheer physical exhaustion had left him wide open. I plowed past his favorite memories—the hollow echoes of laughter and love—pushing deeper until I hit the part he tried hardest to bury: the moment his mate died.

The bond that had barely begun to bloom had shattered into jagged shards, tearing through his spirit and leaving him cold. I could feel his despair, his darkness, the quiet snap of something sacred being ripped away.