After a year of carefully trying to conceive, I finally discovered I was pregnant. I had planned to surprise my mate, but he arrived at the bistro where we were supposed to celebrate with his “special friend,” the woman who was always in the back of his mind.

In the chaos that followed, an oblivious Delta warrior pushed me to the ground. Seeing the bright red blood made my head spin, and, just like that, I lost the pup.

When the anesthesia wore off, the first thing I saw was a post by his beloved, showing intimate photos of the two of them. In the pictures, she sat half-naked, nestled in Alpha Henrik Freeman's lap, sharing a passionate kiss.

“We planned this toast together, but I didn’t expect you'd go and share it with someone else!” I commented bitterly, “Quite bold, aren’t you? Not worried about the scandal?”

With that, I spread the rejection papers all over our pack house.

Yesterday marked a full year since Henrik and I started trying to conceive, and I found out I was pregnant. Today, the pup is gone. The moment I woke up in the healer’s den, I immediately asked Henrik for a rejection.

He hadn’t been responding to my messages promptly for a long time, but he replied instantly with a question mark. A call followed shortly after.

“Luna Aurora, what kind of breakdown are you having now? I’m working hard every day for the pack while you do nothing at home, and now you’re asking for a rejection? Are you crazy?” Amidst his yelling, I could faintly hear Mariana Owens’ laughter in the background, prompting him to offer a half-hearted explanation.

“Are you getting jealous again without reason? You know I couldn’t land this alliance without Mariana’s help, so of course, I need to thank her, unlike you, who does nothing all day.”

“I haven't even blamed you for standing me up. What right do you have to be angry?” I looked at the dark red stains on my clothes, feeling unexpectedly calm. There was neither love nor hate. It seemed that five years of affection had vanished along with this pup.

I recalled the struggle at the bistro entrance and said calmly, “Your Deltas didn’t recognize me, and I couldn’t get in.” That was the bistro where we had our first date after our marking ceremony. But now, Henrik had rented it out for another she-wolf, playing romantic love songs under dim, intimate lighting, while his warriors kept me outside.

Henrik paused, finally recalling something. He stammered, “I, I forgot. Why don’t we go there tonight…”

I hung up before he could finish his sentence. I distinctly heard Mariana’s coy voice in the background.

As the anesthesia wore off, I found Mariana posting updates. During the hour I endured intense pain, she and Henrik were inside that very bistro, sharing drinks. Her face glowed unnaturally as she clung to Henrik’s neck with a smug expression.

“At last, we share this toast!” she declared. The way Henrik looked at her in the photo only made my solitude more apparent.

I decided to leave the healer’s den. I spent a long time recovering at home, but Henrik never returned. He claimed he was indulging the pack with a retreat. Of course, Mariana was there too.

When Henrik finally came home, I was in the middle of my postpartum recovery. He frowned at the broth in my hand.

“Didn’t I say no broth in the house?”

I retorted impatiently, “It’s not for you. Keep cozying up to Mariana if you want.” I hadn’t touched broth for years because Henrik claimed he didn’t like it. Only recently did I find out it wasn’t him but Mariana who couldn't stand the smell of broth. Henrik’s dislike was just to ensure “broth-free” kisses.

“Aurora, can’t you let it go? Don’t you know how hard I work for the pack? I just returned from a pack gathering and you’re at home, sulking!”

I sipped my broth, savoring the long-lost flavor. I didn't bother to expose Henrik’s lies. The so-called pack gathering took place in a villa under my name. As for Mariana, she seemed eager for me to notice, sharing everything she could, including the toast, the massages during her scantily-clad moments, and the playful antics on a rose-covered bed.

I casually opened a video, and a she-wolf’s flirty voice played through my speakers.

“Henrik darling, is it true when you said you’ll love me forever and that your mate bond with that other woman means nothing?”

“Of course…”

Before I could hear the crucial part, Henrik snatched my tablet and smashed it to pieces. He yanked me up, letting the hot broth spill onto my arm. My skin turned bright red in an instant.

“Luna Aurora, I said I’m with Mariana to thank her. Don’t make trouble!”

“Look at you now! Mariana is an independent, modern she-wolf while you are just some jealous shrew.” I looked at the shattered pieces of the broth bowl and the mess on the floor, then slapped Henrik hard.

The sting of my palm against Henrik’s cheek echoed in the room. It was the first time in all these years that I had laid a hand on the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack. I expected him to unleash his alpha tone, to command me to my knees, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, his towering frame tense, his sharp jawline twitching as he observed the red welt blooming on his skin. His eyes—cold and calculating—met mine, and for a moment, I saw something flicker in them, something I couldn’t quite place.

"Forget it," he said finally, his voice low but lacking its usual authority. "You’ve always had this temper. I’ll let it go for the sake of the pack." He glanced away, his broad shoulders stiff as he mentioned the pack, as if it were the only thing holding him back from retaliating.

When it was clear I wouldn’t lash out again, he turned and began rummaging through the cabinets for the first aid kit. "Who else but me would tolerate you like this?" he continued, his tone patronizing, his words cutting deeper than they should have. "Remember, after your parents died, it was me who restored your pack. Even though you’ve done nothing to contribute, I’ve stood by you because of our history."

His words were like salt on an open wound. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The mention of children—a topic he knew was a raw nerve for me—felt like a blade twisting in my heart.

"If you’re so unhappy, then let’s reject the bond," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.

I remembered the year my parents were killed in a rogue attack, their pack left in shambles. It was Henrik, my mate, who stepped in and helped me reclaim it. During those sleepless nights, I’d cried out, "I have no pack left." He’d held me, his deep voice soothing as he said, "You have me."

Now, with the Silver Moon Pack thriving under his leadership, the man I once knew was gone.

I was done living a life of compromise. Five years of sacrifices and the loss of my unborn pup were enough to repay his past kindness.

I wanted the pack, but not him.

"Reject the bond?" Henrik scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. He turned to face me, his muscular frame looming over me like a predator. "Aurora, what right do you have to reject me? A Luna like you, weak and broken..."

His insult was cut short by the ringing of his phone. He glanced at the screen, his expression softening instantly. He tossed the burn ointment onto the counter and stepped out onto the balcony, his voice low and intimate as he spoke into the phone. When he returned, a smug smile played on his lips.

"There’s a pack gathering tonight," he announced, typing a message on his phone. "You’re coming as my Luna. I’ve already ordered a dress for you. It’ll be here soon."

Henrik had everything planned out, seemingly ignoring the welt on my arm. Instinctively, I wanted to refuse. Most of the pack members who’d known me were gone, and Mariana Owens never missed an opportunity to humiliate me.

But then I reminded myself, half of the pack still belonged to me. Even if we severed the bond, I needed to reclaim what was mine.

The dress arrived quickly—a long, elegant gown reminiscent of the one I’d worn when I first met Henrik. Unfortunately, five years of neglect had taken a toll on my appearance, and the dress felt awkward and ill-fitting.

Henrik kept urging me to hurry. I barely managed to apply some makeup and hastily tended to the burn. We got into his car, the silence between us heavy and suffocating.

Inside the car, a piece of lace lingerie dangled from the seatbelt. Henrik, looking guilty, tossed it onto the back seat.

"Mariana changed her clothes in my car and forgot to take it with her," he explained, his tone casual. "You know, she was instrumental in securing that alliance with the Crimson Fang Pack..."

"Uh-huh," I responded coldly.

Henrik often said we should be grateful to Mariana for securing the alliance. His ways of showing gratitude were indeed peculiar—like taking selfies together or holding hands while sharing a bed.

I’d grown numb to it. My indifference seemed to surprise Henrik. He glanced at me several times, his sharp features unreadable, before finally turning away.