Chapter 1 – The Breaking Point

Initially, when my Alpha husband, Dylan Wade, brought his secretary to our packhouse in the middle of the night, I thought nothing of it.

Now looking back, I was such a fool.

One blinded by love and emotions.

Dylan was not just my husband. He was the Alpha of the SilverClaw Pack. A man everyone bowed to. His word was law. His gaze alone could make warriors lower their heads. But to me, he was simply Dylan. The man I once believed would walk through fire just to protect me.

He would bring her home mostly when I wasn’t around. At least, that was what I thought.

It had been almost three years since he started working closely with her — Maya. She was his personal assistant at the company, but lately, she had become his shadow even within the pack territory.

That night, I wasn’t supposed to be home.

The girls and I had planned a small night out to relieve stress, but everything fell apart when one of them cancelled and the rest backed out. So, I had to turn back home, feeling tired and disappointed, hoping to just crawl into bed.

The packhouse was dark when I arrived, except for a faint glow from the kitchen. I remember thinking Dylan was probably working late again. He always said he was working. He had stopped sharing his thoughts with me months ago.

I stepped in quietly, trying not to startle him. But the moment I turned the corner and entered the kitchen, the world froze.

Maya was sitting on the kitchen island, our kitchen island, with her legs wrapped around Dylan’s waist, her fingers tangled in his hair. His hand moved slowly over her back, the pad of his thumb brushing along her jaw in a way that made her sigh. The light from the counter lamp fell softly across his face, and for one second, I saw his wedding ring gleam — my ring — pressing against her bare skin as he held her close.

My breath caught before my mind could even process what I was seeing. My knees weakened, a sharp, sick feeling twisting in my stomach. The floor felt like it was shifting beneath me.

I couldn’t breathe.

The sound of my own heartbeat thundered in my ears, drowning out everything else.

He was touching her in a way he hadn’t touched me in months. The way his thumb traced small circles at the base of her neck, the same spot where he once liked to kiss me.

My mouth went dry. My fingers trembled against the wall I was gripping for balance.

Then I heard it.

Maya rested her head on his chest, her voice soft, sweet, too comfortable.

“Dylan, when are you going to make me your legal Luna? I’ve waited for so long. It’s been over three years now and I can’t wait anymore,” she whined, sounding like a spoiled pup.

I waited for him to tell her to stop. To remind her that I was his mate. His wife. His Luna.

But he didn’t.

He chuckled — low and cold. The sound didn’t even sound like him.

“Don’t worry,” he said carelessly. “It’s not as if I touch her anymore. She’s become too old for me anyway. For a long time, I’ve been wanting to get rid of her.”

Those words hit me like claws across my heart.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring. Then the world started to tilt again. My vision blurred. The sound of their laughter became muffled, distant, like it was coming from underwater.

My knees buckled, and I pressed my hand hard against the wall to stop myself from falling.

“Get rid of her.”

The words echoed again and again in my head until I thought I might scream.

I couldn’t. My body wouldn’t move.

The air felt thick, heavy. I could taste the salt of my own tears before I even realized they were falling.

That sentence. Those words. They tore me open in ways claws never could.

I had never felt pain like that before. Not even when his mother had stood before the whole pack and said I wasn’t worthy of being Luna. Not even when she would nitpick about every little thing I did — how I spoke, how I walked, how I wasn’t from a strong bloodline.

None of that compared to hearing my husband say those words.

Like I was some broken thing that had outlived its use.

My wolf stirred painfully inside me, restless and hurt. She whimpered softly, echoing my own pain.

“Mate,” she whispered in my head. “Our mate doesn’t want us.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and slowly stepped back before they could sense me. I didn’t shift. I didn’t scream. I just walked quietly up the stairs, numb from head to toe.

My hands trembled as I closed the door behind me.

Inside the room that used to be ours — now only his — I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t even breathe properly. Everything inside me was heavy, frozen.

I remembered how I had given up everything for him. My small pack. My freedom. My family, who never wanted me to marry him in the first place. They warned me. They said Dylan was too cold, too ambitious, too used to getting what he wanted.

But I thought I could change him. I thought love could make him soft.

What a fool I was.

I took in a shaky breath, glancing at the wall clock. It was almost midnight. Outside, I could hear faint laughter drifting from downstairs — Maya’s laughter.

I gripped the bedsheet so hard my knuckles turned white.

Three years.

Three years of lies.

Three years of me trying to please a man who had already replaced me.

I stood up and looked into the mirror. My reflection looked hollow. My hair was messy, my eyes red and swollen.

I turned off the light, crawled into bed, and lay beside the empty space that once belonged to him. My voice came out in a whisper.

“Three days,” I said softly. “Three days, Dylan Wade. That’s all you have left of me.”

My wolf stirred again, her voice calm but tired.

“We leave?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “We leave.”

The next morning, he acted like nothing happened. He even greeted me with a lazy smile, pressing a kiss to my forehead like he always did when he was pretending to care.

“Maya and I have a few reports to finish,” he said while buttoning his shirt.

Of course, Maya.

I smiled faintly. “I’m sure you do.”

He didn’t notice the sarcasm. He never did.

When he left, the house fell silent. I walked to the kitchen and stood where I had seen them the night before. My knees almost gave out at the memory. The counter still smelled faintly of his cologne.

I touched the spot gently, my fingers trembling. I thought of all the meals I had made here. How I had stayed up late waiting for him. How I had believed every single excuse.

All of it was gone.

The thought of leaving terrified me. I had nowhere to go. But staying here, living as the joke of the pack, was worse.

I had seen how some of the she-wolves looked at me lately — pity in their eyes. Maybe they already knew. Maybe the rumors had spread faster than I realized.

Chapter Two

The sun barely touched the curtains when I opened my eyes. The house was quiet, too quiet for what it used to be. I lay still, staring at the man beside me. Dylan. My husband. My Alpha. His arm was sprawled lazily across the bed, his chest rising and falling like nothing had happened.

He looked peaceful. Too peaceful.

Last night flashed through my mind again—the laughter, the low whispers, the way Maya’s perfume lingered even after she left. It was still in the air now. Sweet. Heavy. Disgusting.

I turned away from him, pressing my face into my pillow. I could still smell her there too. I had washed these sheets yesterday, but somehow, her scent had found a way to stay.

He moved beside me. “You’re awake early,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

I didn’t answer. My throat felt tight.

He shifted closer and pressed a lazy kiss on my shoulder.

His lips touched my skin, warm and familiar, but my whole body tensed. My stomach turned at the scent of him—soap, cologne, and something else that didn’t belong to me. I felt trapped beneath the weight of his touch. His breath against my neck made my skin crawl. My chest rose and fell too fast. It took everything in me not to flinch, not to jerk away from him like his touch burned. The same warmth that once made me melt now felt like poison seeping under my skin.

I could feel the ghost of his hand tracing down my arm and had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from pulling away too soon. My wolf whimpered inside me, quiet but restless.

I finally moved, slow enough not to seem obvious. “I couldn’t sleep,” I said flatly.

He chuckled, like everything was fine. “You’ve been tense lately. Maybe I should cancel a few meetings and spend the day with you.”

I looked at him then, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “No. I’m sure your secretary needs you more than I do.”

He didn’t even catch the sting in my words. Or maybe he did and chose to ignore it. “Maya’s good at what she does,” he said simply, standing and stretching his tall frame. “You’ll like her once you get to know her better.”

I laughed under my breath. “Oh, I’m already starting to.”

He smiled, thinking I was joking. I wasn’t.

He went to shower, leaving the faint sound of running water in the background. I sat there, staring at the spot he left on the bed. For a second, I remembered when that same man used to worship me.

I could still see that night in my mind — the night of the first full moon after we got married. We had gone hunting with the pack. I had twisted my ankle during the run, and Dylan had carried me all the way home, refusing to let anyone touch me. He had wrapped my foot with his own hands, kissed my forehead, and whispered, “You’re mine. I’ll never let you hurt alone.”

I almost laughed now. What a lie.

When he came out of the shower, water dripping down his chest, I didn’t look away. I wanted to see if I could still feel what I once did. But I didn’t. All I felt was disgust.

He gave me a quick peck and left for work, saying, “Don’t wait up too long. I’ll bring something for dinner.”

The door closed. Silence filled the room again.

I got up, walked to the window, and stared out at the forest line beyond the packhouse. The air smelled of pine and distance. Freedom.

I needed that.

By the time I went downstairs, I already knew what kind of day it would be. The kitchen smelled like freshly brewed coffee and betrayal.

Maya was there, standing by the counter, humming a tune as if she owned the place. She wore a dress that was far from office-appropriate—tight, short, and clinging to her like second skin.

She leaned casually against the counter I had scrubbed spotless just yesterday, the same counter where I used to prepare Dylan’s meals. Her hip pressed against the edge like she was marking her territory. She poured herself coffee from my favorite mug—the one Dylan bought for me when we first moved in. The words “Luna of SilverClaw” were printed in fading gold letters. She lifted it to her lips, smirking faintly as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

When she noticed me standing there, she didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head toward the mirror hanging near the window and adjusted her hair, using the reflection to meet my eyes. For a heartbeat, it felt like I was looking at a stranger living my life, while I stood in the doorway like a ghost in my own home.

Her smile brightened when she finally turned to face me. “Good morning, ma’am,” she said sweetly.

Ma’am. The word tasted fake.

Dylan walked in a moment later, already buttoning his shirt. “Morning, love,” he said to me, before turning to Maya with that easy smile that once belonged to me. “Did you get the reports I asked for?”

She giggled. “Of course, Alpha. I stayed up late finishing them.”

I raised a brow. “Working hard, I see.”

She turned toward me, pretending not to hear the edge in my voice. “Just trying to make sure everything runs smoothly,” she said, brushing her hair back.

I nodded slowly, crossing my arms. “You’re doing more than just that, I’m sure.”

Dylan frowned slightly but said nothing. Instead, he grabbed his cup of coffee—my coffee, the one I used to make for him every morning—and handed Maya another cup from the counter.

She took it, her fingers brushing his, and they both smiled. I felt something inside me tighten.

“Don’t you have work to do, Celine?” Dylan asked casually. “You’ve been so quiet lately. Maybe you should go out. Visit the market or something.”

I bit back a scoff. “Oh, so now you’re suggesting I leave my own house.”

He blinked. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Of course not,” I said, forcing a smile. “Enjoy your coffee. Both of you.”

I walked away before either of them could answer. I could feel their eyes on my back, but I didn’t turn around.

By noon, I stayed upstairs, cleaning out my closet—not because it needed cleaning, but because it helped me think. Every dress, every folded shirt had a memory tied to it. The red one he bought me for the winter festival. The white one I wore on our mating anniversary. I remembered how proud he was, standing beside me, how the whole pack cheered when he kissed me in front of everyone.

Now, the same man couldn’t even look at me without comparing me to someone else.

My hand trembled as I folded the last dress. My chest burned with something between anger and heartbreak. I had thought betrayal would make me cry. But it didn’t. It made me cold.

That was when I reached for my phone. My hand shook, but I knew what I had to do.

The number was one I hadn’t dialed in a long time.

“Celine,” the voice on the other end said softly after the second ring.

“Hi, Aunt Lila,” I whispered. My voice cracked a little, but I steadied it. “I… I need a favor. I’ll be leaving soon. Three days, maybe less. I need a place to stay. Somewhere no one will find me for a while.”

There was silence on the other side. Then a sigh. “Does he know?”

“No. And he won’t. Not until I’m gone.”

“Good,” she said quietly. “Come to the old cottage near Silvercrest Woods. It’s still under my name. You’ll be safe there.”

Safe. The word sounded strange now.

“Thank you,” I breathed out, hanging up before my voice could break.

Three days. That’s all I was giving myself. Three days to pack my heart, my sanity, and my pride. Then I would leave this packhouse behind.

That evening, Dylan came home later than usual. Maya followed behind him again, her voice echoing through the hall as she laughed.

I stood by the staircase, pretending not to watch. She handed him a file, her hand brushing against his again. I noticed how he didn’t pull away.

“Goodnight, Alpha,” she said, lingering at the door.

“Goodnight, Maya,” he replied softly.

When the door closed, I came down slowly. “Long day at work?”

He sighed, loosening his tie. “You have no idea.”

“Looks like you had company,” I said lightly.

“She’s my assistant, Celine. Don’t start.”

I tilted my head, forcing another smile. “I didn’t say anything.”

He walked past me toward the living room, clearly irritated. I followed, stopping near the couch.

“Do you remember when you used to come home early just to have dinner with me?” I asked quietly.

He froze for a second but didn’t turn around. “Things change.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “They do.”

We sat in silence for a while. He turned on the TV, pretending to watch, while I stared at him. It was strange, watching someone you used to love fade into a stranger.

He yawned and said, “You’re quiet again.”

I looked at him, my voice calm but sharp. “If I start talking, you might not like what I say.”

He laughed softly, thinking it was another joke. “You’ve always had a temper.”

“Not anymore,” I said, standing. “Now I just have limits.”

He didn’t even look up. That told me everything.

Later that night, I lay beside him again, but I didn’t close my eyes. I could feel the distance, thick and heavy like fog. I thought about the three days ahead, the ones I had promised myself before leaving.

Three days to pack my heart. Three days to prepare my exit.

He murmured something in his sleep, and for a moment, I thought he said my name. But then I realized it wasn’t mine he whispered.

It was hers.

Maya.

By the end of the first day, the air between us felt like glass. Clear, fragile, and always on the edge of shattering.

That morning, Dylan came down the stairs, dressed sharp as always, smelling faintly of cedarwood and something floral. Not mine. Not us.

“Don’t wait for me tonight,” he said, fixing his cufflinks. “There’s a meeting I can’t miss.”

I smiled, the same practiced one I’d been giving him for days. “A meeting. Right.”

He didn’t even notice the way I said it. Or maybe he did, but didn’t care enough to ask.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he added, kissing the top of my head like I was some loyal pet that never questioned anything. “We’ll do dinner this weekend, promise.”

“Sure, Dylan,” I said softly.

He left, closing the door behind him. The sound echoed through the house, hollow and final.

I sat there for a long while, staring at the untouched breakfast I’d made. The eggs were cold. The coffee was too.

He used to hate cold coffee.

Hours later, I found myself behind the wheel of my car, the sky darkening with clouds that matched my thoughts. I wasn’t sure why I was driving. Maybe part of me just needed proof. Proof that I wasn’t crazy. Proof that my heart wasn’t lying to me.

I didn’t even have to go far.

His car was parked right there—outside Maya’s apartment building. His sleek black car. The same one he swore was at the office for a “late meeting.”

My hands tightened on the steering wheel. I told myself to leave, to turn around, to go home and pretend like I didn’t see it. But something inside me—the part of me that used to believe in us—snapped quietly.

I parked across the street. I didn’t move for a few minutes, just watched the windows. The lights were on in one of the upper apartments. A silhouette moved behind the curtain. Two shadows.

I didn’t need to see their faces to know.

When the laughter came, faint but sharp in the night, my heart went still.

I reached for my phone with steady hands and took a photo. Then another. And another. I zoomed in on his car, on the building number, on the window with the two shadows. Each click of the camera sounded like a nail in a coffin.

Our coffin.

By the time I got home, it was past midnight. The house was dark except for the faint glow from the kitchen. I didn’t turn on the lights. I just walked upstairs and started packing.

Not everything. Just what I needed. My important things, my clothes, some jewelry. The rest could rot here for all I cared.

I found one of the boxes from the attic and started filling it. My wedding dress. The one I used to dream about. I stared at it for a long time before folding it neatly and placing it inside. I wasn’t sure if I was burying it or saying goodbye.

Halfway through, I stopped to breathe. My hands shook, but my face stayed dry. I wasn’t going to cry over this. Not anymore.

Then I heard the door downstairs.

Dylan’s voice floated through the hall. “Celine? You awake?”

I said nothing.

The smell reached me before he did. Maya’s perfume. The same sweet, sticky scent that clung to his jacket, to his hair, to his skin. He walked into the room, loosening his tie, pretending everything was normal.

“Sorry I missed dinner,” he said casually. “Meeting went on longer than I thought.”

I turned to face him, my expression blank. “I figured.”

He smiled faintly, coming closer. “You’re not mad?”

“No.”

He leaned in, kissed my forehead out of habit. I didn’t move, didn’t flinch. His lips were warm, but they didn’t feel like his anymore. They felt borrowed. Stolen.

“You should shower,” I said quietly.

He blinked, surprised. “What?”

“You smell… tired,” I said, forcing a small smile.

He laughed. “You always notice everything.”

I did. I always did.

He walked to the bathroom, and I stood there for a while, staring at the half-packed box on the bed. The silence around me felt alive. Loud. Screaming.

When the sound of running water filled the room, I sat down at the edge of the bed and looked at the small things around me—the photos on the dresser, the framed vows on the wall, the silver bracelet he gave me on our first anniversary.

It used to mean something. It used to make me feel safe.

Now, it just made me sick.

My fingers brushed over it once, twice, before I picked it up. I turned it in my hand, the small engraving glinting faintly in the light. “Forever, Dylan & Celine.”

Forever.

I laughed softly, bitterly, before walking to the trash bin beside my vanity. I dropped it in.

The sound was small. But final.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the bracelet lying at the bottom of the bin. Three years of marriage, reduced to trash.

My hand moved to my neck without thinking—to the spot where Dylan's mark had burned into my skin on our mating night. I remembered how it used to pulse with warmth whenever he was near, how it made me feel connected to him even when we were miles apart.

Now, as my fingers brushed over it, I felt nothing.

I walked to the mirror and tilted my head, pulling my hair aside.

My breath caught.

The mark—once a deep crimson, the shape of his wolf's bite—had faded to a dull pink. The edges were blurred, like a bruise healing. Like something dying.

I touched it again, pressing harder, waiting for that familiar ache.

Nothing.

My wolf stirred inside me, her voice a quiet whisper. "The bond… it's breaking."

I stared at my reflection for a long time. The woman looking back at me wasn't the same one who had walked into this house three years ago, full of hope and love and foolish dreams.

That woman was gone.

And strangely, I didn't feel sad. I felt... free.

A smile tugged at my lips—slow, cold, unfamiliar.

Tomorrow was Luna Duties Day. The whole pack would gather. Dylan would stand beside me, pretending we were still the perfect Alpha and Luna. Maya would hover nearby, smirking. Clarissa would watch with those sharp, judging eyes.

They all thought I would keep playing my part. Keep smiling. Keep pretending.

They had no idea what was coming.

I turned off the light and climbed into bed, not bothering to wait for Dylan. When he finally came out of the shower and slid in beside me, I didn't flinch at his touch. I didn't react to the scent of her perfume still clinging to his skin.

"Celine?" he murmured, his hand brushing my shoulder. "You asleep?"

I said nothing.

He sighed, turning away.

And in the darkness, my smile widened.

Let him sleep peacefully tonight.

It would be his last.