The Wolf King’s Lost Mate

He cursed me on our wedding night. Called me a poison. A mistake. He tore our bond apart and threw me out of the kingdom like refuse from his table.
But I carried his legacy. A daughter. A secret I have guarded with every fractured piece of my soul.
Five years later, the Wolf King is dying. The curse he placed on me did not break me. It ricocheted, burrowing into his blood like a parasite, eating him alive from the inside. His wolf has been howling for five years for the mate he so carelessly discarded. When I am dragged back to his court in chains, I expect his hatred. I expect his violence. I do not expect the way he looks at me, like I am the answer to a prayer he never thought would be answered.
He is not the man who rejected me. He is something far more dangerous. He is a man who knows exactly what he threw away, and he will raze his own kingdom to the ground to get it back.
The court wants me gone. His enemies want me dead. And the child I have hidden for five years, the heir he never knew existed, is the only shield standing between the throne and absolute ruin.
I should hate him. I should let him rot in his own cursed blood.
But when he falls to his knees and begs me to save him. When he touches our daughter with trembling, reverent hands that shake harder than they did the night he broke me. When he promises me the world on a platter of groveling desperation, I realize something devastating.
Love is not just forgiveness. Sometimes, it is knowing exactly what someone did to you, remembering every scar, and choosing to give them one last chance anyway.