Azura blinked.
Fated mate...?
Oh. Right. Werewolf Romance 101: The Soulmate Edition.
Her brain suddenly replayed the scene she'd witnessed last night—Selena and Adrian, the classic fated mates with a side of rejection. Because of course, in every cliché werewolf novel, the female lead gets rejected at the start. It's practically the genre's sacred ritual. Sacrifice one virgin fated mate to the plot gods, and the story may begin.
And Selena? She had the premium deluxe edition of the tragic backstory package: "Because of my foolish childhood actions, I triggered a dark past where everyone hates me, which will conveniently become the reason my fated mate rejects me in the future."
So if Azura couldn't recognize her fated mate because her wolf was currently throwing a tantrum in wolfy time-out?
She honestly couldn't care less.
Sure, she enjoyed reading romance novels. But experiencing real-life "burning passion" and "destined love" that gave her goosebumps? No thanks. She'd rather read about it from the comfort of her bed while eating chips.
Besides, in her original world, there were no werewolves, no fated mates, no soulmate detectors. So this whole concept was about as relevant to her as a sunscreen advertisement in a submarine.
Even if she stays single forever because her wolf is currently throwing a tantrum in the corner like a toddler denied candy, it's no big deal. She'd simply adopt thirty dogs—all named after different types of dumplings—and live in a cabin in the woods where the only drama would be deciding which dog gets the last piece of bacon.
And if, by some cosmic miracle, she actually stumbled upon her fated mate despite her wolf being in full-on "dormant mode"? Well, she just hoped he wouldn't mind dating a woman who was essentially a werewolf in name only—like a decaf coffee, or a gluten-free pizza. The concept was there, but the magic was gone.
But honestly? If she did meet her fated mate, she had one specific request: let him be a 99-year-old billionaire. That way, she'd only have to wait a little while—maybe a year or two—before becoming a ridiculously wealthy widow. Then she could buy an island, name it "Xiaolongbao," and live out her days with her thirty dogs and a pool shaped like a giant wine glass.
She waved her hand dismissively at Jonathan, who looked like he was about to combust.
"Look, if I don't recognize my fated mate because my nose is on strike, and he hates me because he thinks I'm wolfless, then clearly we weren't meant to be. It's not that deep. If I end up mateless for life, I'll just rely on you forever, brother. You can cook, I'll do the dishes, and we'll adopt dogs. Lots of dogs. We can be the weird sibling duo who never leaves the house."
Jonathan's jaw clenched. His sister had just planned an entire spinster life in five seconds flat.
"You don't care about your fated mate?! Fine!" His voice climbed an octave. "Then what about your dream of becoming Luna?! You've trained your whole life for it! You literally said if Adrian wasn't your fated mate, you'd reject your destined one just to become Luna! But now—" He jabbed a finger at her. "Without Cora, you can't even shift! You'd be a wolfless Luna! The pack would eat you alive! Even if the Alpha loves you, that won't be enough!"
Azura froze.
Luna? Dream? Training?
She suddenly recalled another last night's memory—Adrian's words. His hands on her waist. The way he touched her like she was his.
Wait.
Was this world's Azura dating Adrian?
If so, that meant her mission now included a pre-requisite quest: Break Up With The Alpha Before You Can Befriend The Heroine.
Because Selena would never talk to her if she was still tangled up with the man who'd just publicly humiliated and rejected her.
She needed more information. She needed to know everything. Because right now, she was flying blind in a world that seemed to operate on nothing but horny plot devices and questionable life choices.
"Jonathan..." she began, her voice suddenly serious. "Adrian and I... are we...?"
Jonathan dragged a hand through his silver hair, exhaling like he'd just run a marathon through quicksand.
"I really don't understand you anymore, Azura. Before, you said you wanted to wait until alpha Adrian's Ascension Ceremony to officially accept him as your mate. So why yesterday—on his alpha ceremony, after he publicly rejected Selena and was about to announce to the entire pack that he'd chosen you as his Luna... you just disappeared? To chase after Selena?!"
He threw his hands up in exasperation.
"Alpha Adrian thought you were upset because of Selena. So he sent me to find you, bring you home, and let you cool off! But now you're telling me you've let Cora go into full-on doormat hibernation mode? What do you even want, Azura?! Even if Alpha Adrian likes you, you can't just toy with his feelings like a yo-yo! It's better to break up with him now than to cause a nuclear meltdown later!"
Azura's brain processed everything like a computer downloading a massive update. Her eyes went wide, then narrow, then wide again.
And finally, she nodded. Rapidly. Violently. Like one of those bobblehead dogs on a car dashboard.
"YES! You're absolutely right! I HAVE to break up with him! Immediately! Like, right this second! I need to find him and say, 'Adrian, it's not you, it's me—I'm a wolfless disaster who just wants to adopt thirty dumpling-named dogs and live in the woods!'"
Jonathan's eyes widened. He had only suggested breaking up as a scare tactic—hoping Azura would panic and actually try to wake Cora up. He never expected her to latch onto the idea like a starving piranha.
"W-Wait, Azura, don't be hasty—"
"I'M NOT BEING HASTY! I decided everything last night! I don't want to be Luna! I want to be a free, beautiful woman who does whatever she wants—as long as it doesn't involve starring in a porn drama! I am NOT a porn drama villainess!!"
She paused, her eyes going wide as a terrifying realization struck her like a cartoon anvil.
"...Wait. Villainesses in R18 stories usually get bad endings, don't they? Like, really bad endings? Like—" Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "—sold off to rogues as a sex slave bad?"
Jonathan opened his mouth, but no words came out.
"THAT'S IT! BREAKUP! NOW! ASAP! I'M NOT BECOMING ANYONE'S SEX SLAVE PLOT DEVICE!"
She lunged toward the closet, throwing open the doors with the fervor of a treasure hunter finding gold. Rows of designer clothes stared back at her—all sleek, sexy, and screaming "rich villainess energy."
"Now, what does one wear to break up with an Alpha?" She muttered, rifling through the clothes. "Something that says 'I respect your authority but I'm also walking away forever.' Maybe a power suit? Do werewolves have power suits? Or should I go with something casual—like 'I'm breaking up with you but I'm also going for a coffee afterwards'?"
Meanwhile, Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose so hard he might've bruised it.
My little sister has clearly lost her mind since last night. First she's crazy, then her wolf's in hibernation, and now she's delusional about becoming a porn drama villainess? What's next—is she going to start a podcast about werewolf erotica?