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.