The Wolfless Contract Luna (Grace and Ethan) novel Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Gaslighting and Denial**

**Grace POV**

“You misunderstood what you saw.”

Damien’s tone is unnaturally calm, almost soothing, as if he’s explaining the simplest of concepts to a child who just can’t seem to grasp it.

A wave of disbelief crashes over me, and I feel as if I’m drowning in it. He’s actually going to lie to me.

“I was there,” I say, my voice steady but slow, as if I’m the one who needs to articulate my thoughts clearly. “I watched you—”

“You watched me comforting my brother’s widow.” He interrupts me, his tone patient yet condescending. “Lilith has been through hell, Grace. She lost her mate. She needed support, and I was providing it.”

The way he twists the truth is so smooth, so practiced, that for a split second, I find myself questioning my own perception. Did I really misunderstand?

And then, like a match igniting a pile of dry leaves, fury surges within me.

“Support?” The word leaves my mouth like a venomous spit. “You were inside her—”

“That’s enough,” he snaps, his eyes flashing with warning. “You’re hysterical. Fabricating scenarios that never happened.”

Hysterical. The term every man resorts to when a woman dares to express her anger.

Rage and disbelief intertwine in my throat, a choking knot. He’s rewriting reality right in front of my eyes, expecting me to accept his version over the truth I witnessed with my own two eyes.

Lilith, who had been nestled in his arms, suddenly straightens, her tears inexplicably drying as if they were never there. “Grace, please,” she says, her voice trembling just right. “I’m so sorry you’re upset. This is all my fault.”

The performance is flawless, and I feel an overwhelming urge to claw her eyes out.

“You’re damn right it’s your fault—”

“I loved him.” Fresh tears spring to her eyes as if on cue. “Damien’s brother. I loved him so much, but he—he wasn’t kind to me. The marriage was—it wasn’t what I hoped for. And when he died, I had nowhere to go. No one to turn to.”

Every word drips with manipulation, and yet I can see Damien’s expression soften, his eyes glazing over as he buys into her every syllable.

She presses closer to him, her fingers clutching at his chest like a lifeline. “Damien has been so good to me. So generous. Letting me stay here, making sure I’m taken care of.” Her voice cracks, perfectly timed. “I know I shouldn’t have developed feelings for him. I know it’s wrong. But I can’t help it. I love him, Grace. I’m sorry, but I do.”

The confession should shock him. It should make him pull away, recoil in horror.

Instead, he holds her tighter, and betrayal cuts deeper than it ever has before. He wants this. He wants her.

“How noble of you to confess,” I say, baring my teeth in a semblance of a smile. “After you orchestrated the whole thing.”

“I don’t know what you mean—”

“Luka.” I turn to the Beta, desperation clawing at my composure. “Tell him. Tell Damien what she said to you. How she congratulated you for sending me to the hot spring.”

Luka’s face goes carefully blank, a mask of neutrality. “I don’t recall—”

The floor drops out from beneath me, leaving me teetering on the edge of despair.

“You’re lying.” My voice cracks, filled with the weight of my accusation. “I heard you. Both of you.”

But even as I voice my certainty, doubt creeps in. Did I hear wrong? Am I truly losing my mind?

“Grace.” Damien sighs, his tone heavy with exasperation, as if I’m a burden he’s weary of carrying. “You’re not well. The stress of pack duties, your condition—it’s clearly affecting your judgment.”

Shame floods through me, hot and immediate. My condition.

“Being wolfless,” he says gently, with a kindness that feels almost patronizing. “It takes a toll. I understand that. But you can’t let your insecurities make you paranoid.”

Insecurities. He’s weaponizing my deepest wound against me, twisting the knife deeper.

“I’m not paranoid—”

“You are.” He strokes Lilith’s hair, a gesture both tender and possessive. “You’re imagining betrayals that don’t exist. Creating scenarios in your head. The pain you’re feeling—it’s not real, Grace. It’s psychological.”

Rage explodes within me, bursting through the shame like a wildfire. I know what I saw.

“The bond—”

“There is no bond pain,” he snaps, his voice suddenly hard. “Because nothing happened. I helped a grieving woman. That’s all.”

The gaslighting is complete. Total. He’s not just denying reality—he’s convincing me to doubt my own sanity.

Lilith nods, the picture of innocent distress. “I would never try to come between mates. Never. I know how sacred the bond is.”

And then, in a move that feels like a dagger to my heart, Damien leans down and kisses her.

Not a comforting peck, not a reassuring brush of lips. A real kiss—slow, deep, claiming. His mouth devours hers while I stand just a few feet away, feeling utterly invisible.

The bond screams—not with pain but with the agony of being completely, utterly dismissed.

When he finally pulls back, Lilith’s eyes are hazy with satisfaction, a look of triumph that twists the knife deeper in my chest.

“You see?” Damien looks at me as if I’m the one who’s lost my mind. “I’m helping her heal. Giving her the affection she was denied in her marriage. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Something inside me shatters, the careful control I’ve maintained fracturing completely. My hand flies toward his face—not thinking, just needing to make contact, needing to hurt him the way he’s hurting me.

But before I can reach him, Luka catches my wrist mid-swing, his grip like iron.

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