Sophie left, and Otis ensured the pack members cleared out. Just moments ago, the den had been filled with the hum of activity, but now it was just Callen and me.

I settled back onto the couch, expressionless, as I picked up the pack’s financial report. The scent of cedar and pine lingered in the air, a reminder of the territory we had built together.

Callen rubbed his forehead, his frustration palpable. His broad shoulders tensed, and the faint scent of whiskey clung to him, mingling with his usual Alpha musk. "Luna," he began, his voice rough, "you’re reading too much into this. Sophie is just my Beta. Our relationship is strictly professional."

I continued to ignore him, my eyes scanning the numbers on the page.

Callen knelt down in front of me, his Alpha aura dimming as he lowered himself to my level. "Emma," he said, dropping the formal title, "I’ll never forget. Without you, I might never have escaped that small pack. You sponsored my rise, taught me about leadership, and helped me ascend to Alpha of the Yorin Pack. How could I ever betray you? I would never do that."

I placed the report aside and silently regarded him. Callen was the wolf I had chosen. I had supported him, and when he showed potential, I brought him along, patiently teaching him everything my mother, the former Luna of the Robertson Pack, had imparted to me.

As the heir to one of the most powerful werewolf lineages, the strength of my pack was my primary concern, yet I had devoted extraordinary patience to Callen.

Now, with his hair slick and drenched, having embraced another wolf in front of me, he still insisted he would never betray me. He maintained his position as Alpha, a role where any misstep could lead to disaster. I hoped he was shrewd enough to weigh the consequences.

"Callen," I said, my voice cool and steady, "I taught you that lies and deceit have no place in our pack."

The clock showed three in the morning as I rose and headed upstairs. The scent of the forest outside seeped through the windows, grounding me in the territory I had fought so hard to protect.

Callen’s voice followed me, his tone pleading. "Emma, don’t you even want to hear my side of the story?"

I paused on the staircase, my back to him. The weight of his words pressed against me, but I refused to let it show.

"Callen," I said, my voice firm, "Sophie’s performance doesn’t meet the standards for a Beta. I oppose her promotion. I suggest excluding her from the pack’s inner circle. She can’t be trusted."

Perhaps emboldened by the whiskey, Callen snapped. His Alpha aura flared, a sudden burst of dominance that made the air feel heavier.

He shouted, "Emma, ever since I met you, you’ve always been so confident, as if everything’s under control. You’re perpetually composed, always able to detach from your emotions to manage everything. Have you ever been shaken? Have you ever felt fear? Have you ever truly opened your heart? I even wonder if, when I die, you’ll weigh the gains and losses before you mourn me!"

I stood on the stairs for a long time, long enough for Callen to collapse onto the floor, mumbling to himself, "I knew it, I knew it. In your heart, I’ll never surpass the importance of the pack."

I turned back and looked down at him, my gaze steady despite the storm raging inside me.

"If it weren’t for the pack," I said, my voice cutting through the tension, "how would I have pulled you out of that small territory? You can’t bite the hand that feeds you."

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of his betrayal and my words hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Callen slept in the guest room, and when I woke the next morning, he had already left for the packhouse. His scent lingered faintly in the air, a reminder of the distance that had grown between us.

While I ate breakfast, I opened the pack’s internal communication system, a mind link network used for official announcements. The latest message was from the Alpha’s office, conspicuously stating with Callen Kelley’s approval that, effective immediately, Sophie Kelley was promoted to Gamma of the Yorin Pack.

I froze, the glass of milk suspended midair, staring at the bolded and highlighted words "Gamma" for what seemed an eternity.

I hurled the glass, milk splattering across the floor. The man I had personally trusted, the Alpha I had supported with my own lineage and influence, had ultimately betrayed me. The shards of glass on the floor mirrored the fragments of what I once believed were the intimate and unbreakable years between Callen and me.

I was not happy.

Just then, a message came through the pack’s encrypted mind link from Fernanda Vasquez, the Delta of the Yorin Pack.

*Luna Emma,* she sent, her tone respectful but urgent. *I thought you should see this.*

The image she transmitted was a screenshot of Sophie’s latest social media post. She sat in Callen’s office chair, snapping a selfie, with Callen visible in the background preparing what looked like a cup of coffee. The caption read: *In the Alpha’s chair, with coffee made by the Alpha. Total fan moment.*

Callen had been the first to like it.

Fernanda’s next message followed quickly: *The Alpha’s playing with fire.*

I lit a cigarette, ready to respond to Fernanda, when another notification popped up—a mind link request. Callen had shared a contact—Sophie Kelley was requesting to connect.

I raised an eyebrow. It seemed that not only did Callen have gall, but this little upstart did too.

I accepted the request, and Sophie’s messages began to pour in one after another.

*Good morning, Luna Emma. Nice to officially meet you. I’m Sophie Kelley, the Alpha’s newly appointed Gamma.*

*The Alpha mentioned I should report his daily schedule to you.*

*The Alpha arrived at the packhouse today in a foul mood, so I took him to a café on Main Street for croissants, and it cheered him up.*

*The Alpha said croissants were once his favorite, but since being with you, he’s been eating all sorts of gourmet dishes that don’t bring him joy.*

*You’re used to a life of luxury. I can stand in for you and accompany the Alpha in enjoying the simple pleasures.*

The messages kept coming, my mind buzzing with her audacity. My mood, which had calmed considerably, flared with anger once again.

In my world, everything falls into two categories: things I want and things I don’t want. There has never been an option for “taken from me.”

I picked up my phone and called Otis Elliott, my loyal Delta. It was time to head to the packhouse.