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.

The air in the Silver Moon Pack’s headquarters felt heavier than usual as Thalia stood at the entrance, her sharpened senses picking up on the faintest traces of a familiar scent—one that didn’t belong to her. Her wolf stirred uneasily in the back of her mind, a low growl forming in her throat, but she silenced it with a firm mental command. She couldn’t shake the gnawing suspicion that her worst fears were about to be confirmed.

A moment later, a cheerful female voice broke through the tension, carrying the scent of rosemary and vanilla—a scent that shouldn’t have been so prominent in Waylon’s space. "I brought pasta salad and some chicken stew today; you should try some later," the woman said, her tone light and carefree.

"Sure," Waylon replied, his deep voice carrying the usual authority of an Alpha, but with an undercurrent of warmth that made Thalia’s stomach twist.

"Oh no! Whiskers! How did you get out here?!" the woman exclaimed, her voice rising in playful alarm.

Thalia froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned her head sharply, her amber eyes locking onto the scene unfolding before her. A man and a woman walked side by side, their closeness unmistakable. The chill that ran up her spine had nothing to do with the coolness of the evening air.

The man was Waylon, her mate and the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack. His towering frame, muscular and imposing, was a testament to his rank and strength. But it wasn’t his physical presence that struck her—it was the way he leaned slightly forward, his posture softening as he listened to the woman beside him. His expression, usually stern and commanding, was filled with a tenderness Thalia hadn’t seen directed at her in years.

The woman was petite, her delicate features framed by golden hair that caught the light. Her voice, sweet and melodic, was the same one Thalia had heard in the background of Waylon’s Instagram story a few days ago. She moved with an ease that suggested she belonged here, in Waylon’s space, more than Thalia ever had.

When the woman spotted Whiskers, the wolf pup nestled in Alaya’s arms, her eyes lit up with delight. She hurried forward, her laughter ringing out as she scooped the pup into her arms, cooing softly. Waylon’s gaze followed her, his amber eyes filled with unmistakable warmth and affection—affection that should have been reserved for his Luna.

But then, as if sensing her presence, Waylon’s gaze shifted. His eyes traveled past Alaya and the woman, landing directly on Thalia standing at the office entrance. In an instant, any trace of softness vanished from his face, replaced by the cold, detached expression she had become all too familiar with.

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension. Thalia’s wolf growled again, louder this time, but she forced herself to remain composed. She was the Luna of the Silver Moon Pack, and she wouldn’t let him see her falter.

"Alpha," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "I didn’t realize you had company."

Waylon’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. The woman, still cradling Whiskers, glanced between them, her smile fading slightly as she sensed the tension.

"Thalia," Waylon finally said, his tone clipped. "This is Emmie Anderson, one of our Deltas. She’s been helping with Whiskers."

Emmie offered a hesitant smile, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. "It’s an honor to meet you, Luna," she said, her voice soft and deferential.

Thalia nodded curtly, her gaze never leaving Waylon’s. "I see," she replied, her tone icy. "Perhaps the Alpha would like to explain why one of our Deltas is so... comfortable in his den?"

Waylon’s expression darkened, but before he could respond, Emmie spoke up. "I’m so sorry, Luna. I didn’t mean to overstep. I just thought—"

"That’s enough, Emmie," Waylon interrupted, his voice firm. He stepped forward, his presence commanding as he addressed Thalia. "We’ll discuss this later. Alone."

Thalia’s lips curled into a bitter smile. "Of course, Alpha," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I wouldn’t want to interrupt your... hospitality."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the headquarters, her head held high despite the ache in her chest. Her wolf howled in frustration, but Thalia silenced it with a sharp mental command. She wouldn’t let him see her break—not now, not ever.