Greta’s cancer treatment required seventy thousand dollars—a sum that seemed insurmountable for an Omega like Elizabeth Spencer from the Silver Moon Pack. Her mate, Jericho Medina, a Beta from the Red Fang Pack, had promised to help. He’d even resorted to odd jobs and selling plasma, or so she thought. But when Elizabeth arrived at the pack’s marketplace the next day, she found Jericho lounging with a group of high-ranking wolves, their laughter echoing through the square.

One of them, a Delta from the Red Fang Pack, sneered, “Jericho, you never cease to amaze. Spending seventy thousand on a pendant for Olive is no problem, but with Elizabeth, you act like fifty bucks is a fortune.”

Jericho leaned back, his muscular frame relaxed, his smirk cold. “You just don’t get it. I enjoy watching her scramble for cash, maybe even witness her reaction when her mom passes away.”

Elizabeth froze, her grip tightening on the thermos of soup she’d brought for him. Her wolf stirred uneasily in her mind, a low growl of betrayal building in her chest. She hadn’t known that someone else—Alpha David Spencer of the Blue Horizon Pack—was willing to mate with her and provide half a million dollars for her mother’s treatment. All she had to do was accept, and the ceremony would be arranged within a week.

She glanced at the man standing nearby, his presence commanding. David Spencer, the Alpha of the Blue Horizon Pack, leaned against a sleek black car, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders and powerful build. His piercing gaze met hers briefly, and Elizabeth quickly looked away, her heart pounding.

Jericho’s voice cut through her thoughts. “It’s not like I genuinely care for her,” he muttered, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Parting with fifty bucks hurts, let alone seventy grand. I spend on Olive because I love her.”

Elizabeth’s body trembled, and the thermos nearly slipped from her grasp. The wolves around Jericho chuckled, their amusement sharp and mocking.

“Jericho’s quite the player,” one joked. “Imagine if she cries her eyes out when she finds out.”

“Why does it matter?” Jericho responded indifferently, flicking his cigarette onto the ground and crushing it underfoot. “She chose to be with me. It’s not like I twisted her arm.”

“True,” another agreed. “But pretending to beg and sell plasma every day must be exhausting.”

“Let her find out,” Jericho said, his tone dismissive. “I’m Jericho Medina, heir to the Medina fortune. Why should I be scared?”

Elizabeth stepped back, her chest tightening as if the weight of his words might crush her. The thermos slipped from her hand, spilling its contents onto the pavement. Today marked their two-year anniversary. She’d dressed up as an elderly woman, intending to surprise him with a homemade meal and a request to stop begging. Instead, she’d stumbled upon this heartless scene.

Tears streamed down her face as the truth sank in. What was life-saving money for her was mere petty cash for someone like Jericho.

In the distance, Jericho turned off his phone and nudged one of the wolves. “You mentioned your family has some spare cherries. Give me a box. I’ll take them to Elizabeth. Today marks our two-year anniversary.”

The other wolf laughed. “Jericho, you’re really cheap with Elizabeth, aren’t you? Anniversary gift, and you’re still freeloading from me?”

Jericho scowled. “She’s not Olive. I can’t be bothered. You have it here, so I don’t have to think of buying anything else.”

The mention of Olive, a Delta from the Red Fang Pack, was like an arrow to Elizabeth’s heart. Though she’d never met her, Jericho’s tone was enough to show how much he cherished her.

Her nails dug into her palms, and she felt her entire body trembling. For two years, she’d believed they were in this together. She worked three jobs while he begged, donated plasma, and did odd jobs. She’d thought she’d found the best mate in the world. Now she saw the love she’d thought they shared was nothing more than a cruel game to him.

Her wolf growled again, a low, angry sound in her mind. *He’s not worth it,* it whispered. *He never was.*

Elizabeth turned away, her resolve hardening. She wouldn’t let Jericho’s betrayal break her. She had a choice now—Alpha David Spencer’s offer was more than just a lifeline for her mother. It was a chance to reclaim her dignity and start anew.

As she walked away, she didn’t look back. The bond between her and Jericho, once a source of strength, now felt like a chain she was ready to break.

Elizabeth returned to the cramped den she shared with Jericho, her heart heavy with the weight of the day’s revelations. She tore off the Victorian-style dress, her fingers trembling as she tossed it into the trash. The fabric, once a symbol of hope, now felt like a cruel joke. Just as she finished, Jericho walked in, carrying a box of strawberries. The sight of them stirred memories of simpler times, when they would wander through the pack’s markets together, and she would gaze longingly at the crimson fruit, a luxury she could never afford.

"You always said, ‘Once I make some money, I’ll definitely buy them for you,’" Jericho murmured, his voice soft as he began washing the strawberries in the sink. The water ran over the fruit, making them glisten like rubies, but Elizabeth could only see the bitterness they now represented.

"Elizabeth," he called again, his tone gentle, "Look, I got strawberries for you. You were always wanting to try them, right?" He set them on the rickety table, the wood groaning under the weight of the bowl. The chair creaked as he sat, a sound that once felt comforting but now grated on her nerves. He had promised her a better life, a grand den where they would live comfortably. Now, those words felt hollow, a mockery of the life they had built—or rather, the life she had struggled to build while he watched from the sidelines.

She approached the table, her steps slow and deliberate. Just as she reached for a strawberry, Jericho pulled a necklace from his pocket, holding it up with a forced smile. "Ta-da! Happy second anniversary," he said, dangling a silver heart pendant in front of her. It was cheap, likely from one of the bargain stalls in the pack’s marketplace, worth no more than a few coins. He had always been generous with others but stingy with her, a fact that now burned like a brand on her heart.

Her fingers brushed the pendant, but before she could take it, his phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with a WhatsApp notification, the message content hidden, but the anxious flicker in Jericho’s eyes told her everything she needed to know. Olive. It had to be Olive.

"Finish up and get some rest; it’s late," he said abruptly, placing the necklace on the table before retreating to the bathroom. His hurried movements spoke volumes, and Elizabeth felt the sting of betrayal deepen.

She remembered the day Jericho had first learned about her mother’s illness. His eyes had been filled with tears as he promised, "Aunt Greta, don’t worry. Elizabeth and I will find a way to get you treated." But earlier, he had admitted the truth—he had wanted to watch her struggle, to see her reaction after her mother’s passing. The realization cut deeper than any knife.

Jericho, you’re certainly a master of deception, she thought bitterly.

Elizabeth wiped away her tears, leaving the strawberries untouched, and crawled into the worn bed they shared. The thin blanket offered little comfort, but she pulled it tightly around herself, as if it could shield her from the pain. Moments later, she felt the warmth of Jericho’s breath against her back as he slid into bed beside her.

"Are you upset?" he asked, his voice low and tentative. "Tell me what’s wrong."

She closed her eyes, refusing to respond. He called again, "Elizabeth, are you asleep?" When she still didn’t answer, he sighed, releasing his grip on her. Carefully, he slipped out of bed, the soft creak of the floorboards marking his departure as he opened the door and left.

Alone in the darkness, Elizabeth curled into herself, the bond between them screaming its agony through every fiber of her being. She thought of David, the Alpha who had offered her a lifeline, and the den he had prepared for her. For the first time, she allowed herself to imagine a future without Jericho—a future where she would no longer be bound by his lies or his indifference.

The strawberries sat untouched on the table, their bright red hue a stark reminder of the promises that had turned to ash. And as the night stretched on, Elizabeth’s resolve hardened. She would leave this den, this life, and never look back.