Eight Years Of A Fake Mate Bond Chapter 06

Eight Years Of A Fake Mate Bond Chapter 06

I froze for a split second as the announcement looped over and over.

Sharp, desperate shouts rang out nearby.

It was Alaric, calling my name on repeat.

“Riona! Riona Vinter!”

Beneath his voice, I caught Maeve’s weak, stubborn cries too.

I tossed a blank glance in the direction of the noise, then looked away without a flicker of emotion and stepped through the boarding tunnel.

Once I landed in Frost Harbor, I headed straight for the dorm housing the ballet company had reserved for new recruits.

Two weeks of rest later, my wound had fully healed over.

Over those fourteen days, Alaric and Maeve cycled through dozens of alternate accounts, blowing up my inbox with messages every single day.

I never opened a single one, blocking every new account until their notifications stopped hitting my phone entirely.

My parents and sister blew up my line with calls and video chats, begging me nonstop to head back to Silverpane City.

I ignored every outreach. The second they brought up what had happened, I’d hang up without a word.

Before long, my schedule filled to the brim.

Back-to-back rehearsals and stage runs filled my days, and I

—

wandered every corner of Frost Harbor whenever I had spare time.

My calendar was packed tight, leaving zero room to dwell on the past.

Another week rolled around, marking my first major stage performance as a member of Moonlight Ballet.

The dream I’d set aside for eight long years finally stood clear within reach.

I lived up to every expectation the choreographer and studio director had placed on me, nailing the entire show flawlessly.

When the curtain fell for bows, two pairs of hands clapped far longer than everyone else in the crowd.

I turned toward the sound, my soft smile freezing on my lips.

Somehow, Alaric and Maeve had tracked me down all the way here.

They sat dead-center in the audience, their eyes locked firmly on my figure.

I acted as if I hadn’t spotted them, letting my gaze drift past their seats without reaction before turning to head backstage.

After changing out of my performance costume, I found the pair lingering right outside the dressing room door.

I grabbed my backpack, ready to walk straight past them, but Alaric shot forward and clamped his hand tight around my wrist.

I twisted my head to face him, met with a face twisted raw with desperation.

—

“Riona, can we just sit down and talk this through?”

His tone sounded worn out and parched.

“At the very least… let me get everything off my chest.”

I avoided his gaze entirely, only staring down at the hand trapping my arm.

Before I could pry his fingers loose, Maeve cut in in a rush.

Her complexion was ashen, and she looked just as broken as Alaric.

“Riona, please come back to Silverpane City with us, okay?”

“I swear I’ll never hide a single thing from you ever again. If you’ll just come home, I’ll agree to anything you want!”

Her eyes glistened with desperate hope as she stared at me.

I shook my head.

“I’m happy here.”

“If you’ve got nothing else to say, you two should head back.”

Maeve’s expression crumpled completely. She forced a bitter, helpless smile onto her face.

“Riona…”

“Why? We’ve known each other for years. Can’t you find it in you to forgive me just this once?”

She broke into quiet sobs, swaying unsteadily on her feet like she’d collapse any second.

—

A flicker of pity crossed Alaric’s eyes, yet he didn’t reach out to steady her. His gaze stayed glued to me.

“Riona, tell me what I need to do to get you to come back.”

I stayed silent.

He kept pressing on.

“A brand-new mating ceremony each year, full official filing with the Pack Council, and I’ll give you my permanent mark… Name anything you want, and I’ll hand it over no questions asked.”

The second the words official mark left his mouth, Maeve’s face drained of all color.

After a beat, she drew in a shaky breath and nodded toward me.

“You’re right. Riona, if you’ll come back, I’ll sever my bond with Alaric and cancel our mate registration.”

Watching them throw everything on the line in a last-ditch bid, my heart didn’t stir even a little.

“There’s no need. None of that matters to me anymore.”

My words hung in the air, and Alaric went rigid with shock.

He blinked repeatedly, unable to form a full sentence for what felt like ages.

“Doesn’t matter?”

“Riona, you waited eight whole years for my mark. How can you write it off as nothing this easily?”

—

His eyes burned red, his frame trembling uncontrollably.

He didn’t even spare a glance for Maeve when she crumpled to the floor beside him, shattered.

“Eight years—wasn’t that long enough?”

I looked straight at Alaric and asked evenly.

“I don’t have any more time to waste.”

I pried his fingers off my wrist one by one.

He instinctively tried to tighten his grip again, but his hold slipped away entirely.

He hauled the limp Maeve to her feet and chased me out of the theater, only to watch my car pull away into the distance.

From that day on, fresh blooms arrived at Moonlight Ballet’s training studio each morning without fail.

Crimson roses, pale gardenias, moon lilies—no two bouquets were ever alike.

Every arrangement held a hand-scrawled note, each one filled with a new different plea.