Karter’s call came through immediately. I could sense his excitement, knowing how werewolves often act impulsively when adrenaline surges through them. Choosing not to answer, I mind-linked him instead, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

*Focus on the business trip. Securing top-tier equipment for the pack’s healing center is crucial.*

His reply was instant, his voice warm and reassuring through the mind link.

*Got it! Can’t wait to be back home with you, Amaya.*

His words made me chuckle, though tears unexpectedly began to roll down my cheeks like scattered beads. My wolf whimpered softly in the back of my mind, a faint echo of the pain I was trying to bury.

After the breakup, I didn’t return to the Crimson Fang Pack’s territory; instead, I chose to stay at a hotel in neutral grounds, far from the pack’s scent markers. That night, sleep was restless, haunted by dreams in which Ashton oscillated between being a savior and a tormentor.

We were childhood friends, our families both holding high ranks in our respective packs. Our parents hoped we’d end up together, strengthening the ties between the Crimson Fang Pack and my former pack, the Shadowclaw Pack. As adults, we fell in love, and the Moon Goddess blessed us as mates. But then tragedy struck—an attack by rogues claimed my parents’ lives, leaving me an orphan and our pack in disarray.

Despite our mate bond and the marking ceremony, Ashton’s parents, especially his mother, Lillian Lee, the former Luna of the Crimson Fang Pack, refused to acknowledge me. Yet back then, Ashton was solely focused on me. He even argued fiercely with his parents to be with me, his alpha tone shaking the packhouse walls. The loss of my parents caused me to withdraw, making me fearful of connections and prone to depression, making it hard to communicate with strangers, let alone other pack members.

Ashton remained by my side, tirelessly trying to cheer me up. I was touched, convinced we were destined to be together forever.

Midway through the dream, the scenes shifted rapidly. Ashton, with Colette Adams, the Delta warrior who had caught his eye during a pack celebration, cornered me against a wall, hurling degrading words. His parents barged in, his mother’s voice sharp and cold as she berated me for my supposed shamelessness. I awoke in a panic, gasping for air, my wolf growling in distress.

Outside, a torrential downpour was accompanied by booming thunder. I touched my forehead, realizing I had a fever, a rare vulnerability for a werewolf. My phone’s notification light blinked. It was another text from Colette, flaunting provocative selfies taken in what used to be our den. I tossed the phone aside and hid under the covers, my wolf curling up in misery.

I don’t know how long I was trapped in my feverish haze before Karter’s mind link stirred me.

*Amaya, I miss you so much. It’ll be another week before I can come home…*

His voice, deep and reassuring, coaxed a weak laugh from me. But when I responded, my raspy voice surprised us both.

Not wanting him to worry, I lied, saying it was just a cold and I had already scheduled an appointment with the pack healer. Karter breathed a sigh of relief, reminding me repeatedly to take care before ending the mind link.

Worried he might contact the Silver Moon Pack’s healer to check, I forced myself out of bed. I got a cab and headed for the hospital, a human-run facility where I wouldn’t be recognized by pack members.

Arriving at the emergency room, drenched from the rain, I was suddenly blocked in the hallway by a group of stylishly dressed girls. They held up a live-streaming camera, jeering:

“We’re Colette’s friends; come and see the homewrecker who threatened our Colette’s relationship! Let’s give her the attention she deserves!”

They shoved and taunted, their human voices grating against my heightened senses. I clutched my soaked clothes, curling up in the corner, struggling to breathe, my wolf growling in frustration.

“Remember this face, folks! Keep your men away from this temptress!”

One of them grabbed my chin, thrusting the camera in my face. I frantically waved my hands, biting my lip in humiliation, my wolf’s growls growing louder in my mind.

"You think you’re something special? Everything we’ve said is true!"

"Colette’s way too nice to deal with you herself; we’ll teach you a lesson for her!"

They tugged at my clothes, and I desperately tried to shield myself, shaking my head in panic. Looking around for help, I saw a crowd of onlookers, entertained by the spectacle, their scents a chaotic mix of amusement and indifference.

In my despair, Ashton appeared. Bathed in the harsh fluorescent light, he approached me like a savior, his alpha aura commanding the room. My heart leapt with relief, and I whimpered, “Alpha Ashton… help me…”

But he just shot me a cold glance and shielded the silently crying Colette, his arm around her possessively.

“Amaya Ross, do you have to make a spectacle? She just had heart surgery!”

The bitterness in my throat was reminiscent of the day his mother, Lillian Lee, had slapped me in front of the entire pack. I shrank back into the corner, trembling, clutching myself, my wolf howling in silent agony.

"Ashton, I’m not feeling well. Could you come with me to see the healer?"

Seeing my silence, Alpha Ashton Cox finally deigned to glance my way, his piercing gaze briefly acknowledging my presence. Colette Adams, the Delta warrior from his pack, seized the opportunity, clutching her chest dramatically and collapsing into his arms.

Alpha Ashton, snapping back to the moment, scooped her up with concern and hurried towards the pack’s healing quarters. She peeked over his shoulder, casting a smug smirk in my direction. Her group of warrior friends strutted behind them, leaving an air of triumph in their wake.

With the spectacle over, the crowd dispersed, leaving only the sound of rain tapping against the windows of the packhouse. As I looked out into the downpour, my thoughts drifted back to when I was eighteen. I remembered Alpha Ashton, bloodied and weary, carrying me to the pack’s clinic after a rogue attack.

Even back then, despite his exhaustion, he shielded me on his back, his voice gentle but firm as he reassured me, "Don’t worry, Amaya. I handled those rogues. No one will harm you while I’m here."

Though his back wasn’t broad, it provided me with an immense sense of security. I clung to his neck, whispering my gratitude as we reached the healer’s quarters, where Alpha Ashton eventually collapsed.

After examining us both, the pack healer said, "You have some cuts and bruises, but your Alpha has serious wounds. The one in his abdomen is the worst. Thankfully, you got help in time; it could’ve been much worse."

That same person who once risked everything for me now protected Colette and spoke harshly to me. Watching him walk away with her, I couldn’t recognize the Alpha who once fought fiercely to keep me safe.

Lowering my gaze, I said goodbye to him in my heart, bidding farewell to my youth. My number was called, and as I approached the healer’s room, I realized the healer was a friend of Beta Karter Hayes from the Silver Moon Pack.

Embarrassed by my disheveled state and afraid news would reach Beta Karter, I covered my face and hurried out of the packhouse. The storm outside hadn’t let up. I caught a ride back to my temporary lodging, where I stripped off my wet clothes and tried to bring down my fever.

My phone buzzed on the bathroom counter. I picked it up to hear Alpha Ashton’s voice, cold and commanding.

"Amaya Ross, where are you? How did you know Colette had a check-up today? If I hadn’t shown up, you might have made her condition worse!"

Without defending myself, I hung up. Moments later, a notification popped up. Alpha Ashton had posted on the pack’s social network:

"Reborn"

His post was accompanied by a photo of him and Colette kissing, her pale neck adorned by my silver necklace—a symbol of our broken mate bond. I liked the post and unfollowed him. Then, a WhatsApp message from Beta Karter lit up my screen.

"Amaya, you lied to me. I called the pack healer, and they said you skipped your appointment. How are you now?"

Warmth surged through me as I typed back and forth before finalizing my message.

"I’m fine now. Took some fever meds and feel a bit sleepy. Focus on your work, and don’t worry about me."

Silence followed. I smiled knowingly, aware that Beta Karter was always attentive. Despite his high status as the Beta of the Silver Moon Pack and his immense influence, he always took my words to heart.

It’s ironic, really. I met Beta Karter because of Alpha Ashton. If Alpha Ashton hadn’t repeatedly distracted himself with other females, causing our frequent breakups, I wouldn’t have been driven to seek guidance from the pack’s counselor. That’s when I met Beta Karter.

Initially, ours was a typical counselor-patient relationship. I treated him as a confidant, sharing life’s hardships and the emotional void left by Alpha Ashton’s infidelities. Even when I shut myself off from the world, I could still talk to him.

But over time, my visits became more frequent, and my condition worsened. Beta Karter was puzzled, having never seen a patient decline with treatment. He dedicated himself even more to my case, his feelings growing deeper.

Initially, I rejected his advances, but after Alpha Ashton kept hurting me like a stray wolf, I finally saw things clearly and accepted Beta Karter. He was everything Alpha Ashton wasn’t—loyal, supportive, and unwavering. And now, as I lay in bed, I knew I had made the right choice.

I waited for the rain to stop before heading back to the Crimson Fang Pack house. The storm had mirrored the turmoil in my chest, each drop a reminder of the shattered mate bond that once tied me to Ashton Cox.

I planned to pack my belongings and leave for good, but when I slipped my key into the lock, it wouldn’t turn. The lock had been changed. My breath hitched as I stood there, frozen for a moment, before fumbling for my phone to call Ashton. But before I could dial, the door swung open.

Lillian Lee, the former Luna of the Crimson Fang Pack, stood in the entrance, flanked by a group of Omegas. Her icy glare bore into me like a blade.

“Oh, isn’t this the female my son finally let go?” Her voice dripped with disdain. “Why are you shamelessly returning? Did you think you could sneak in and steal something while the Alpha was away?”

My fingers tightened around the hem of my shirt, my voice trembling. “Luna Lee, I didn’t—”

“Enough!” she snapped, cutting me off with a sharp wave of her hand. She turned to the Omegas behind her. “Throw her things out.”

My belongings were hurled out the door one by one. My clothes, my keepsakes, even my sketchbook landed in the muddy puddle outside. Every page of that sketchbook was filled with drawings of Ashton. I’d spent ten years learning to draw for him, capturing his form in moments of quiet devotion.

But he’d always mocked it as “a silly hobby,” never letting me share my art with others. Even when a renowned manager from the Lycan Kingdom spotted my sketches on Instagram and offered to mentor me, Ashton had dismissed it, making me feel small and unworthy.

Biting my lip, I lunged to rescue the sketches, only to discover a folded love letter from Karter Hayes tucked between the pages. My breath caught as I read his words: *“Amaya’s eyes are like shattered stars.”*

I must have taken the sketchbook to therapy at some point; I hadn’t even noticed when he’d slipped it in. Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the rain soaking my skin.

Lillian loomed over me, her voice sharp and unforgiving. “Why are you crying? You’ve had enough of the Cox family’s charity for ten years. It’s time you left.”

She grabbed my arm, her grip like iron, and dragged me toward the gate. I clutched the letter to my chest, letting the mud and rain soak through my clothes as I was shoved out into the storm.

The cold bit into my skin, but the ache in my chest was worse. The mate bond, though broken, still burned faintly, a cruel reminder of what once was. My wolf whimpered softly in the back of my mind, a quiet echo of the pain I couldn’t voice.

As the door slammed shut behind me, I stood there, shivering and alone, the letter from Karter the only warmth I had left.