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Mate No More

Mate No More

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5 Chapters
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In a world where mate bonds are surgically altered and reassigned, Mate No More follows the story of a woman who was rejected and erased from her destined mate bond. She became a tool for the system until she had her bond severed, leaving her powerless-but no longer. Now, a rogue leader, she's on a mission to destroy the oppressive system that controls fate. But when her ex-mate, the powerful Alpha who cast her aside, discovers that his bond with her was erased too, he is forced to face the shocking truth: She's no longer the woman he knew-she's the one who's been hunting him all along.

Chapter 1 The Crash

The gala was a mask. Glittering gowns, champagne flutes, and orchestral music played like it belonged in a world untouched by blood and lies. But Lyra Ashbourne knew better.

She stood on the marble balcony, watching the corporate elites mingle in the ballroom below. Beneath her borrowed silver dress, a stolen comm-link buzzed against her ribs. In her ear, Cade's voice broke through the noise.

"Ten minutes until impact. You in position, Ghost?"

Lyra didn't answer. She adjusted the velvet mask over her face and stepped back inside the ballroom. The code name still tasted like poison in her mouth-Ghost. Like she didn't exist. Like she hadn't once been someone's mate. Someone's love. Someone's property.

Her heels clicked softly on the obsidian floor as she slipped past waiters and security, her movements trained, precise. She was heading toward the west wing-the servers' control room where the Gala's security system could be fried in under sixty seconds.

"Ghost, I swear, if you freeze up again-"

"I'm moving," she whispered, eyes scanning the crowd.

And then she saw him.

Zander Thorne.

Her former mate. The Alpha enforcer of the Regime. The man who had looked into her eyes and signed the bond erasure order. He stood tall, suited in black like a blade carved from shadow, speaking to a councilman with his back turned to her.

But Lyra's bond scar pulsed under her skin.

"You've got five minutes," Cade barked.

She ducked into the hallway.

Zander turned just in time to catch the shimmer of silver disappearing through the double doors.

The control room was cold, humming with low power. Lyra locked the door behind her and shoved a flash drive into the main port.

Lines of code spilled across the screen.

The virus would short out the Regime's surveillance for two full minutes. Enough time for the rebel team to plant the explosive, destroy the Project AlphaCore files, and vanish before anyone knew better.

She exhaled. Her hands shook.

"Don't freeze," she muttered to herself. "You don't owe him anything anymore."

Except she did. She owed him a taste of what it felt like to be powerless.

The timer hit zero.

From the east wing came a deafening boom.

The gala descended into chaos-screams, bodies rushing for exits, security barking orders.

Lyra yanked the drive, sprinting toward the exit tunnel.

But as she rounded the corner-he was there.

Zander.

The hallway narrowed. His eyes locked onto hers.

He didn't speak. Just stared, frozen, as if seeing a ghost.

And then he whispered, "Lyra?"

She didn't wait. She spun, ducked beneath his arm, and bolted down the back stairwell.

"Ghost is made," she hissed into her comms. "Abort backup-going dark."

Lyra burst through the alley exit, into night and smoke and alarms. She ripped the hem of her gown, vaulted a trash bin, and vanished into the lower city streets. Sirens howled behind her.

Inside, Zander stood still, heart pounding.

He hadn't seen her in four years. She'd died. He'd signed the cremation papers himself.

But that was her.

And she'd looked right at him like he was the villain in her story.

Twenty-three floors beneath the city, Lyra ripped off the mask and collapsed onto the cold floor of the rebel safehouse.

Cade greeted her with a protein bar and an eye-roll.

"You were supposed to plant a second device. And you look like you saw a ghost."

"I did," she said, breathless. "He saw me."

Cade froze mid-chew. "Zander?"

She nodded.

He cursed. "That's bad."

"Worse than bad. He looked like he'd seen my ghost. I need to disappear again."

He frowned. "You want to tell me why the guy who erased your bond thinks you're dead?"

She didn't answer.

Cade didn't press. But he sat beside her and nudged her shoulder with his. "You did good, Ghost. Half the Regime's tracking is fried. The Project's bleeding. You hit them where it hurts."

"Not enough," she whispered.

Her fingers touched the old scar beneath her collarbone, where the mate bond used to pulse like a living heartbeat.

She remembered the operating table. The pain. The cold metal. The voice that said, "She's too unstable. Kill the bond."

She remembered Zander's signature on the order.

And she remembered that she'd begged him to stop.

Zander slammed his office door shut. The file Cade had stolen six months ago was open on his desk.

Subject 047: Mate Bond Reassignment

Result: Terminated

Status: Deceased

Her image flickered on the screen-hair tangled, blood at her temple, eyes empty. Four years ago.

He'd ordered it. He knew that. But what he didn't know was that she was alive.

And now she was blowing up Regime buildings.

A voice crackled through his comms.

"Alpha Thorne. Central wants your report on the gala incident."

"Later," he growled. "Send me everything you have on Subject 047. Now."

Back in the rebel bunker, Lyra stared at herself in the cracked mirror.

The girl staring back wasn't the same one who once believed love made you safe.

Love had made her property. And then disposable.

Now, she was a weapon.

She picked up a blade from the table, slid it into her boot. Cade leaned against the door, arms crossed.

"You ever think about... y'know. Stopping?"

Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Stopping?"

"Yeah. Like quitting. Taking a one-way shuttle to the Southern Sectors. Change your name. Get a fake bond with someone who doesn't want to use you as a science project."

Lyra almost laughed. "You offering, Cade?"

"Maybe," he said with a lopsided grin. "But I've seen the way you still flinch when someone says his name. You're not done with him."

"I don't care about Zander."

"You cared enough to run from him."

Lyra didn't answer. But that night, she dreamed of the moment her bond was cut.

And in that dream, Zander didn't look away.

He watched. He let it happen.

And she swore-he'd pay for every scream she never got to finish.

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