Waylon’s reply was brief, catching Thalia off guard. He seemed to have more to say, but she had already ended the call. Unable to express himself over the phone, he resorted to texting her.

*“I’m coming back with a surprise for you. Is there anything you’d like?”*

It was his way of smoothing things over, testing the waters. After Waylon’s Instagram post the previous night, one of his Beta, Alaya Alvarez, had noticed and commented.

*“Alpha, aren’t you worried Luna will find out and go ballistic?”*

Waylon’s response was swift and dismissive. *“What else could she possibly do?”*

Even through the screen, Thalia could sense the Alpha’s scornful tone. He seemed to have forgotten that she had added Alaya on WhatsApp months ago and could see their exchange.

In the past, Thalia would have erupted—crying, shouting, making threats. Her love for Waylon had once been obsessive, and whenever another female werewolf entered his life, she had prepared for battle. It had always annoyed him.

For three years, they had tormented each other, yet remained bound by the mate bond, though the distance between them grew. When they underwent the marking ceremony, Thalia had told herself, *Despite everything, I’ll spend my life with him.* But now, after only three years, she felt utterly exhausted.

Calmly, Thalia liked Waylon’s post and turned off her phone to sleep. When she woke up, the post had disappeared. Shortly after, he called, claiming his flight had been delayed.

She checked the flight status. The weather in the city he was in was perfect; no delays were reported. The only plausible excuse involved the faint voice of a girl in the background of his call. Thalia couldn’t think of another reason.

The weight of his betrayal settled heavily on her chest, but this time, she didn’t cry. Instead, she felt a cold detachment, a quiet resolve forming in the depths of her heart. Her wolf stirred faintly, a low growl of discontent echoing in her mind, but Thalia silenced it. She had no energy left for battles—not with Waylon, not with his indiscretions, and certainly not with the pack’s whispers.

She glanced at the framed picture of their marking ceremony on the wall, the memory of that day now tainted by the shadow of Stormi Shaw and the lingering presence of Emmie Anderson. Thalia turned away, her jaw set. She was done fighting for a bond that had long since begun to wither.

Waylon returned to the den just past midnight, his towering frame silhouetted in the doorway. The scent of pine and musk clung to him, a subtle reminder of his Alpha status. His sharp, amber eyes flickered with surprise as they landed on Thalia, sprawled across the couch in the dimly lit living room.

“Luna,” he began, his deep voice carrying the weight of authority, “I thought I told you not to wait up.”

Thalia hadn’t been waiting for him. She had simply dozed off while reflecting on the fragments of their bond—moments that once felt sacred but now seemed distant, like memories from another lifetime.

Waylon crossed the room with the grace of a predator, his muscular frame casting a shadow over her. He held out a small gift bag, its wrapping crisp and elegant. “A present for you,” he said, his tone softer than usual, though it still carried the undercurrent of command.

Thalia hesitated before taking the bag, her fingers brushing against his. She opened it carefully, revealing a delicate figurine—a wolf pup carved from polished wood, its details intricate but oddly impersonal. It wasn’t the kind of gift Waylon would choose on his own.

The memory of that voice—soft, playful, and undeniably feminine—flashed in her mind. Emmie’s voice. Thalia’s chest tightened, but she schooled her expression into neutrality.

Waylon watched her intently, his amber gaze searching for a reaction. When none came, his brow furrowed, the faintest hint of frustration crossing his features. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” he asked, his Alpha tone creeping into his voice, a subtle reminder of his rank and dominance.

Thalia met his gaze, her own eyes steady despite the storm brewing within her. “Can you keep it quiet when you freshen up later? I need to rest. Don’t wake me.”

His frown deepened, the lines on his forehead more pronounced. For a moment, he looked as though he might argue, but then he simply nodded, his expression unreadable. Thalia wondered what he had expected her to say. Should she have asked about the post he’d made on the pack’s social board? Or the way Emmie had been seen at his side during the recent patrol? But none of it mattered anymore.

Not even the Alpha mattered anymore.

The next morning, Waylon left for the pack’s headquarters, his presence lingering in the den like a ghost. By noon, Thalia’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. She picked it up, her voice calm but distant. “Yes, Alpha?”

“Luna,” Waylon’s voice rumbled through the line, carrying the faintest hint of impatience. “Aren’t you bringing me lunch?”

Thalia paused, her fingers tightening around the phone. The question felt like a test, a reminder of her role as Luna. But the bond between them, once unshakable, now felt as fragile as glass. “I’ll send someone,” she replied, her tone neutral but firm. She hung up before he could respond, the weight of his expectations settling heavily on her shoulders.

After the marking ceremony with Waylon Daniels, the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, Thalia began preparing homemade meals for him every afternoon. Though their mate bond had grown strained over the years, he never failed to appreciate her cooking—a small comfort in their increasingly distant relationship.

"I’ve been swamped with pack duties lately. I don’t have time. Just order takeout," Waylon’s voice came through the phone, sharp and dismissive, before the line went silent.

Days passed without any word from him. The mate bond between them felt like a frayed thread, its once vibrant energy now dull and distant.

Then, a call came from the pack’s estate, reminding both of them to attend a gathering the next day. Thalia sent Waylon a text about it, but as usual, he didn’t reply.

Deciding to stop by his den, she arrived to find him still in a meeting with his Beta, Alaya Alvarez. "I’ll just wait for him inside," Thalia informed Alaya, stepping toward his private quarters.

"Um..." Alaya hesitated, her voice catching as she moved to block Thalia’s path. "Perhaps you’d prefer to wait in the lounge, Luna?"

"Is there something wrong?" Thalia asked, her tone calm but firm, as she pushed the door open.

Suddenly, a small gray and white blur darted out from the room, startling her.

"Ah!" Thalia exclaimed, stepping back in surprise.

Her eyes widened as she realized it was a wolf pup—a tiny creature with soft fur and bright, curious eyes. Alaya quickly scooped up the pup, holding it gently as she offered an apologetic smile. "My apologies, Luna. I forgot to mention that Alpha Waylon has been caring for a pup in his den."

Thalia’s brow furrowed. Waylon had always been meticulous about his space, never allowing any unnecessary clutter or distractions. He hadn’t even let her keep a small pet at their shared den. Why would he suddenly have a pup here?

Moreover, the pup wore a heart-shaped tag on its collar—an oddly sentimental touch that didn’t align with Waylon’s usual practicality. It looked like something a woman might choose, something that hinted at a presence Thalia hadn’t been aware of.

The thought lingered in her mind as she stepped into Waylon’s den, the weight of their strained bond pressing heavily on her chest.