After a decade-long mate bond, I found myself drained and feverish from planning a celebration that had been a dream for years. Kobe, the Alpha of the Silverfang Pack, nonchalantly handed me a glass of whiskey and pushed some pills into my mouth, his Alpha tone sharp with impatience. “You’re not seriously ill. Do I really need to come back and take care of you?”

My head was spinning, the meds stuck in my throat, and the liquid burned my mouth instead of calming me. Instinctively, I gagged, but the pills wouldn’t budge. Panic set in as I struggled to breathe, yet he hurried off, glued to his phone.

Later, as I was taken away in an ambulance, I saw him tenderly supporting his young Omega, Greta Scott. “Poor thing,” he murmured, his voice softer than I’d heard in years. “A nosebleed’s no small matter. I couldn’t relax without bringing you to the hospital.”

The absurdity of it all hit me like a wave. Before slipping into unconsciousness, I called off the bond I’d been holding onto for ten years.

---

When I awoke in the hospital, it was to the sound of Kobe’s mind link buzzing in my head: “Where are you now? The den is empty. Cook extra tonight; I’m inviting the pack over.”

“And don’t forget the caramelized apple tart,” he added before abruptly cutting the link. The post-stomach-pump pain overwhelmed me, my head splitting from the agony. He hadn’t even noticed I’d severed our bond, nor had he acknowledged the hospital admission text I’d sent him.

How ridiculous. Out of all the ways I could reach him, mind link, text, or call, I rarely managed to get his attention. Yet, Greta’s favorite dessert was something he remembered perfectly.

Thinking about it made my heart ache, tears slipping down my cheeks onto the pillow. I refused to stay hospitalized, forcing myself to return to the den alone.

The mess in the living room greeted me, littered with decorations and props from the last pack gathering. “Greta always says our den looks stylish. With the next full moon approaching, she took some pictures here,” Kobe remarked from behind me, as if justifying the chaos. Maybe he felt a little guilty because he awkwardly handed me a garish red velvet gown, saying, “Try it on and I’ll take some photos. We’ll display them at the next pack celebration.”

“These photos turn out great,” he added. The sight of the disheveled, misshaped outfit made my stomach churn. I shook my head gently, longing to escape to the bedroom.

But he grabbed my wrist, his Alpha tone laced with annoyance. “Are you really upset over something so trivial? What’s the harm in helping a young Omega take a few photos? There wasn’t anything inappropriate going on.”

“And you? Out all night. Who knows where you’ve been messing around?”

Instantly, the memory of swallowing those pills with whiskey and the near-fatal distress flashed through my mind. Tears welled in my eyes as I asked, “Did you get the message I sent last night?”

He looked flustered, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as he instinctively covered the faint bite mark on his neck. His grip on my wrist loosened.

“Busy last night. How’s your fever now?” he said, his tone softening slightly. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight. Consider it an apology. We’ll deal with the den another day.”

Busy escorting his Omega to the hospital for a nosebleed. Another day, but it would be me cleaning up regardless.

I didn’t bother to scream accusations or stubbornly refuse his offer. Instead, I nodded lightly, “Alright.”

Kobe gently guided me into the back seat of the car, his hands brushing against my arm as he fastened the seatbelt with practiced ease. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as if I were something fragile.

"It’s safer in the back," he said, his deep voice carrying the faintest hint of an Alpha’s commanding tone, though he softened it for me. "There’s a booster seat up front, and you wouldn’t fit."

I glanced at the front seat, where the pink booster seat sat, adorned with cartoon stickers and flanked by two plush toys swaying gently from the rearview mirror. The car smelled faintly of vanilla—Greta’s scent—and something floral that clung to Kobe’s clothes.

"Don’t stress about it," I replied, my voice steady despite the knot tightening in my chest. "I travel a lot with Greta. She’s always restless like a child, so I got her one."

Kobe’s eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned back to the road. He was always like this—attentive, considerate, but in a way that felt more like a habit than genuine care. It was one of the things I had loved about him once, the way he could ease tension with just a word or a gesture. Now, it felt hollow.

I leaned back, my fingers tracing the edge of the seatbelt as my mind wandered.

Kobe and I had been together for ten years. We were college sweethearts, and back then, everyone envied me. Kobe Willis, the future Alpha of the Silverfang Pack, handsome and commanding, with a presence that drew people in like moths to a flame. And there I was, Robin Moreno, a Gamma from a modest pack, my delicate appearance and quiet strength no match for his towering aura.

But he had chosen me. Back then, it felt like fate, like the Moon Goddess herself had woven our paths together.

Now, it felt like a mistake.

The car was filled with the kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful but heavy, pressing down on me like a weight. Kobe’s scent—woodsy and strong, with a hint of something metallic—filled the space, but it no longer stirred the warmth it once had. My wolf stirred faintly in the back of my mind, a quiet whimper of unease that I quickly pushed aside.

I thought about the early days, when Kobe’s love felt like a fire that could never burn out. He used to take me on pack runs under the full moon, our wolves racing side by side through the forest, the bond between us so strong it felt unbreakable. But over the years, that fire had dimmed, replaced by something colder, more distant.

It wasn’t just the way he changed his assistants every month, each one younger and prettier than the last. It wasn’t just the way he dismissed my concerns with a smile and a soft, "Robin, my work is tiring. I just want to be around younger people." It was the way he made me feel like I was the one at fault, like I was the one who had stopped trying.

I had thought about leaving him, about severing the mate bond that had once felt like my greatest blessing. But every time I brought it up to my friends, they would shake their heads and say, "Isn’t that common? What Alpha doesn’t like young and pretty? Kobe treats you pretty well."

And he did, in his way. He provided for me, protected me, even if his protection felt more like control. He never raised his voice or used his Alpha tone on me, though I could feel the weight of it simmering beneath the surface, ready to be unleashed if I pushed too hard.

But I should have known that a mate bond built on habit and duty wasn’t enough. I should have known when I was the only one planning our marking ceremony, running around like a Luna without a pack to support me, that his heart wasn’t in it.

My thoughts were interrupted by a gentle tap on the window. I looked up to see Greta standing outside, her youthful face lit up with a bright smile.

"Hi, Robin!" she chirped, her voice bubbly and full of energy.

I forced a smile in return, though my chest tightened at the sight of her. Greta was everything I wasn’t—young, carefree, and blissfully unaware of the weight of an Alpha’s expectations. She had just had her first shift into wolf form, and the excitement still radiated off her in waves.

Kobe rolled down the window, his voice warm as he greeted her. "Ready to go, Greta?"

She nodded eagerly, climbing into the front seat and buckling herself in with the booster seat. The car filled with her laughter, and I felt a pang of something I couldn’t quite name—jealousy, maybe, or regret.

As Kobe pulled away from the curb, I leaned my head against the window, watching the world blur by. The sticker-covered car, the plush toys, the booster seat—they all felt like symbols of a life I was no longer a part of.

And for the first time, I allowed myself to wonder if I ever had been.