The next day, the metallic scent of blood sent a jolt through my werewolf senses.

Seeing the crimson stains on the sheets, his nostrils flared slightly.

He only paused for a moment, saying nothing.

And I, as if nothing had happened, masked the pain throbbing in my chest.

I prepared his shirt, the fabric carrying the faint, lingering scent of his wolf, and even reminded him of the day's pack meeting.

From then on, I redoubled my efforts to be good to him.

Knowing his stomach was weak, I woke at four every morning to prepare a hearty bowl of steel - cut oats.

Since he liked quiet, I even walked on tiptoe.

Gradually, he seemed to grow accustomed to my presence.

I could sense a shift in the air around him. His wolf, which had once regarded me with indifference, now occasionally met my gaze without hostility.​

He never mentioned the bond break again, as if that agreement were a mere illusion.

The pack bond, which had been strained between us, began to strengthen ever so slightly.

I even naively thought that perhaps time could warm a heart of ice.

Until five months ago, when Alice Smith returned single.

His entire body went rigid, his wolf instantly on high alert.

The moment he caught her scent, it was as if a switch had been flipped.

He almost immediately went back to her side.​

They went shopping, and he nuzzled her neck in public, marking her with his scent for all other werewolves to know she was claimed.

He even canceled a video conference, growling, "I'm in a bad mood."

I was left once again on the outside.

Standing on the balcony. I watched his car head toward Alice Smith's apartment.

I could hear the rapid thud of his heart even from this distance. I finally understood: Even if I bared my heart, it couldn't outweigh her slightest frown.

The primal bond between mates was a force stronger than any made connection, a pull that I, despite five years by his side, could never compete with.​

"Why aren't you speaking?"

Alex Brown's voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I stare at him, my throat tightening-has he forgotten the bond break agreement?

For Five years, I've counted the days, fearing that once the term ended, he'd leave without a backward glance.

But now,I could sense his wolf restlessly pacing within him, drawn to the call of its true mate.

Just as I prepare to remind him, his phone rings, and Alice Smith's tearful voice comes through.

I can't make out the details, but his face changes abruptly.​

He only tosses a hurried "Don't be afraid, I'm coming right away" before grabbing his car keys and dashing out.

Leaning on the wall, I return to the bedroom.

Removing my coat, my shoulder is already bruised.

I take out the first-aid kit, silently applying iodine, my heart feeling as if slashed repeatedly by a dull knife.

Until my phone rings-Alex Brown's number: "Come to Hospital."

Arriving at the hospital, I see him from afar, standing outside the operating room, Alice Smith leaning in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

My steps halt, my chest too tight to breathe.

"What's wrong?"

"Alice's mother Suddenly got leukemia and needs a bone marrow transplant," he looks up at me, his gaze calm. "I did a test and matched."

"You're donating bone marrow? That's dangerous-"

My voice cracks, the werewolf in me trembling at the thought of his life at risk.​

"I didn't call you here to object."

I'm his mate, but his wolf has never claimed me.

I bare my teeth in a mock - smile.

"Because the pack laws demand a bonded mate's seal, don't they?"

His jaw tightens, a low rumble vibrating in his chest. "Sign."​

The nurse thrusts the consent form into my hands.

I snatch it, the paper crumpling under the force of my grip.

As I scrawl my name, my werewolf hearing picks up Alice's weak whimpers.

Alex releases Alice.

Just before he steps into the operating room, I howl his name: "Alex Brown!"​

He turns, his eyes cold as the moonless night.​

The moment the door clicks shut, my wolf's howl rips from my throat.

Tears stream down my face.

So his love for Alice Smith is deep enough to risk his life.

And my Five years of infatuation? Just a self-directed joke.

The OR lights blaze like suns, reducing the corridor to the ragged rhythm of my breaths and Alice Smith's soft whimpers.

I huddle on the bench, fingertips numb as frostbitten twigs, while she sits across from me, eyes swollen raw, her gaze flitting to the sealed door every few seconds.

Finally, she sniffs, voice a mere thread: "Miss Luis, I'm sorry. for all the trouble."

My eyes lift to hers.

Sunlight streams through the window, turning her tear into a diamond shard on her cheek.

"I never thought."

"After all these years, Alex still burns for me.

For my birthday last year, he flew to Tossa del Mar just to press that ring into my palm-the very one I'd mentioned in passing. Can you believe he remembered? But I was feeling spiteful, so I flung it back and slammed the door in his muzzle."

My nails gouge crescents into my palms, blood welling like rubies.

I recall the velvet box he'd tossed me after that "business trip," the diamond-studded ring inside. I'd hidapartment it in the safe, too terrified to wear it-turns out, it was nothing but a bone she'd rejected.

"And the Christmas before last," her voice breaks into a wounded keen, "I posted a tantrum about my boyfriend, and Alex materialized that night. He stood outside my apartment until dawn in a blizzard-his lips blue, his coat dusted white, but he wouldn't dare scratch at the door."

An icepick stabs my heart, cracking it like thin ice.

That Christmas Eve, he'd been ravenous, claiming me ten times in a frenzy. I'd thought it was passion, but when I woke to an empty bed, I'd made excuses for the scent of snow on his collar. Now I see: he'd been standing in her snow, a lone wolf howling at her window.

"These past Five years," Alice croons, swiping at her tears,

"I ignored his messages to teach him a lesson, but he wrote to me every single day. " How many nights did I see the study light burning, carrying in coffee only to find him asleep over scattered papers? I'd thought them contracts, but they were love letters.

That Christmas night," she continues, "the storm was so fierce that even the strongest werewolves cowered indoors. But he? He waited downstairs for 8 hours, his body trembling from the cold and the force of the wind. I chose to ignore."​

I close my eyes, trying to block out the image she's painting. I remember that Christmas. He'd come home drenched, his eyes wild with despair. And I'd foolishly thought it was because of pack business, not knowing it was all for a love that wasn't mine.​

"Ten times that night," she laughs, a cold, mocking sound, "he reached out to me through the pack bond, his emotions a maelstrom of longing and pain. It was all just pent - up frustration, a desperate attempt to win back my heart."​

My knees go weak, and I have to lean against the wall to steady myself.

"He risked his life to hunt down an African Diamond raw stone," Alice whispers. "He faced down a rival pack, fought tooth and nail to claim it. But what did I do? I tossed it back in his face, rejecting his gift and his love."​

I remember the day he gave me a box, his eyes shining with a tenderness I'd never seen before.

I'd treasured it, keeping it hidapartment away, afraid to even look at it too often, afraid that my touch would taint it.

And now I learn it was something she'd thrown away, a rejected offering from the man I'd loved for so long.​

Before she can unleash another memory, I lurch to my feet.

"I have to go." I flee the hospital.

Back in the empty manor, I start packing with savage precision.

Shirts he'd gifted, creams from his half-hearted gestures-all flung into boxes as if they burn.

I can't help checking Alice's social media: her latest post shows Alex at the bedside, IV needle in his left hand. Caption: "No wolf will ever love me like this."

Tears splatter my phone, blurring his tender profile.

For Five years, I'd done the same-rising before dawn to brew his breakfast, leaving the hall light on like a lighthouse, peeling his fruit until my fingertips ached.

Now that gentleness belongs to a she-wolf who bares her throat to him.

I draw a ragged breath, wipe my face on my sleeve, and toss the phone into my bag.

It's over, I tell myself, fastening the last suitcase with a snap.

No more being Grace Luis, the she wolf who stretched to reach a mate who never saw her .

A week later, Alex bursts through the door as I seal the final box.

His return is a shock-Alice's mother's ward has been his home since the transplant.

"Family dinner tonight. Change."

He drops his coat like a discarded pelt,.

I wordlessly enter the walk-in, choosing the plainest pearl-white gown.

In the mirror, my face is gaunt, eyes shadowed from sleepless packing-but his gaze skims over me like a stranger's, not a mate's.

At the dinner, aunts and granddames circle like vultures sensing weakness.

"Five years mated-time for a pup," my second aunt coos, piling food on my plate.

Alex sits silent until he finally speaks, words dropping like icicles: "Not yet."

Conversation dies in mid-chatter.

All smiles freeze, but Alex pours himself wine.

After dinner, the matriarch's eyes lock on me.

"Grace, my study."

I know what awaits.

Alex frowns to intervene, but his phone rings.

He steps onto the terrace, voice melting into a purr: "Alice, sweetheart, what's wrong?"

The matriarch snarls, yanking my wrist so hard my bones grind.

The study door slams, her face dark as a moonless night. "Kneel."

Marble chills my bones through the gown, like lying in a snowdrift.

"Do you know your transgression?" she demands, nails scoring the mahogany desk l.

I bow my head, nails biting so deep I taste blood.

"SMACK!" Her palm hits the desk, rattling a porcelain jar.

"Alex says 'not yet,' and you don't bare your throat? Take this tonic. You will mate with him until you bear an heir-by force, if necessary."

Once, I might have cowered and obeyed, but now I meet her gaze, voice steady. "I won't."

Her pupils dilate, wolfish rage surfacing.

"What did you say to me, whelp?"

"Alex doesn't want a pup with me."

Images flash: him watching me swallow birth control pills, his likes on Alice's posts about "true love."

"He never did. Not once."

"You dare defy the pack mother!"

She shakes with fury. "As a she-wolf of the Brown bloodline, you refuse to breed? And you didn't stop him from offering his marrow to that interloper's mother!"

She roars to the servants: "Bring the pack's whip-soaked in saltwater."