The moon hung high over the city, casting its pale light through the hospital windows as I hurried down the sterile hallway. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of worry and dread twisting my stomach into knots. Henrik Salazar, my mate—or so I had thought—was lying in a hospital bed, bruised and battered. The news of his accident had reached me just hours ago, shattering the calm of the evening.

When I pushed open the door to his room, the sight of him made my breath catch. His once-imposing frame, the mark of a strong Alpha, was marred with angry red welts and bruises, some of them in places that made my stomach churn. His dark eyes flickered to mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flash of guilt before it was replaced with a forced smile.

“Savannah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You didn’t have to come.”

I stepped closer, my gaze scanning the injuries that marred his skin. “What happened?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

Henrik shifted uncomfortably, his Alpha aura flickering with unease. “Just a training accident,” he muttered, avoiding my eyes. “I pushed myself too hard during pack sparring.”

I frowned, my instincts screaming that something was wrong. Training accidents were common among werewolves, but these marks didn’t look like the result of a friendly sparring match. They looked deliberate, cruel even. Before I could press further, a faint voice drifted through the slightly ajar door of the room.

“Mistress, I messed up by fainting and ruining your fun.”

I froze, my blood turning to ice. That was Henrik’s voice, but the tone was all wrong—submissive, almost fearful. My gaze snapped to him, but he was staring at the ceiling, his jaw clenched as if willing me not to hear.

“Mistress, I promise I’ll do better next time to please you.”

My wolf stirred within me, a low growl of warning rising in my chest. I turned sharply, stepping out into the hallway, where the voices grew clearer. Henrik was on a video call with Jocelyn Hall, his assistant and a Delta in his pack. Her smug laughter echoed through the corridor.

“Alright then. Just get your fiancée out of there, and I’ll join you for a little reward.”

Henrik’s response was a trembling whisper. “Yes, mistress. I’ll make sure you’re happy. Even after the wedding, Savannah won’t come near me.”

I clutched the doorframe, my knuckles white as the words sank in. My mate—the Alpha of the Salazar Pack—was calling another woman “mistress.” The Henrik I thought I knew, the strong and confident leader, was groveling to a Delta like a lowly Omega.

“Someone from her background marrying me is quite the leap. How could she protest?”

His words cut deeper than any physical wound. I had always known Henrik was proud, but this—this was betrayal of the highest order. My wolf growled louder, urging me to confront him, to tear into him for the insult to our bond. But I forced myself to stay calm, to think.

When I stepped back into the room, Henrik’s eyes darted to mine, guilt and panic flashing across his face. “Savannah,” he started, but I cut him off.

“What happened to you, Henrik?” I asked, my voice cold and steady. “Those marks don’t look like a training accident.”

He hesitated, his Alpha aura faltering under my gaze. “It’s nothing,” he said finally, his voice strained. “Just a fall during training.”

“A fall?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Those look more like lashes than a fall.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I saw the Alpha in him—the dominant, commanding presence he was known for. But it was quickly replaced by something else—fear, perhaps shame. “Savannah, you should go,” he said, his voice low. “I’m fine, and it’s not good for you to stay.”

“Why shouldn’t I stay?” I asked, my tone sharp. “Or is someone else expected?”

His pupils dilated slightly, and I knew I had hit the mark. My heart ached, but I refused to let him see my pain. “Henrik, remember what we agreed? If love fades, we part gracefully.”

He flinched, his Alpha aura flickering as if it might shatter. “Savannah, don’t overthink this,” he said, his voice pleading. “We’re getting mated; I’ve bought the house, your favorite dress is ordered…”

His words trailed off, and I realized with a sinking feeling that he wasn’t talking about us, about our bond. He was talking about appearances, about the trappings of a mating ceremony without the heart behind it. Weariness pressed down on me, and I turned to leave.

“Alright, I’ll step out,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

But I didn’t leave. Instead, I hid around the corner of the hallway, my phone clutched in my hand. About twenty minutes later, Jocelyn Hall appeared, her heels clicking against the floor. She slipped into Henrik’s room, locking the door behind her.

My stomach churned as I activated the recording function on my phone, aiming it at the room. The sounds that followed made me sick to my core, but I forced myself to stay, to bear witness to the betrayal that shattered everything I thought I knew about my mate.

I sent a message to my mother, Faith Owens, the respected elder of the Owens Pack. “Mom, don’t come. The mating ceremony’s off. I’ll be home soon.”

As I stood there, the weight of Henrik’s betrayal pressed down on me, but deep within, my wolf growled, a promise of strength and retribution. This wasn’t the end—it was the beginning of something far greater.

Back in my apartment, I mechanically gathered everything that reminded me of Henrik Salazar and shoved it into trash bags. The matching mugs, the couple’s pajamas, even the sole photo of us together—I tore it to shreds. I worked until three in the morning, finally collapsing onto the bed, my body heavy with exhaustion.

But just as I drifted off, a piercing alarm jolted me awake. It was the smart lock alert for the apartment we were supposed to share after our mating ceremony. Groggily, I grabbed my phone and opened the surveillance app.

On the screen, Jocelyn Hall lounged arrogantly on the sofa, draped in my custom Victorian-style wedding dress. The gown, tailored to fit me perfectly, somehow looked stunning on her. Henrik, on the other hand, was dressed in something absurdly revealing, kneeling at her feet, utterly absorbed in kissing her toes.

“Are you happy?” Jocelyn asked, her voice dripping with smugness as she pressed her foot against Henrik’s cheek.

“Ecstatic,” Henrik replied, his tone sycophantic, like a desperate pup seeking approval. My stomach churned, and I nearly retched. They were in our mating apartment, doing this—this—filth!

Jocelyn let out a triumphant laugh. “Wearing Savannah’s pajamas at your place was fun, but this? In your mating den? Now *this* is exciting.”

My mind went blank. They had invaded my space, even worn my clothes. Furious, I grabbed all my pajamas and threw them into the trash.

Just then, my phone buzzed again. Against my better judgment, I kept watching. A delivery guy, Archer Warren, walked into the room, his face a mask of confusion. Henrik and Jocelyn, unfazed, resumed their obscene antics right in front of him. Archer’s face turned ashen, and he dropped the package before bolting out the door.

I couldn’t take it anymore and turned off the feed. My chest heaved with anger and disbelief. Who *was* this Henrik? The man I’d known was always the epitome of a gentleman—charming, well-mannered, the future Alpha of the Salazar Pack. But now? Every move he made made my skin crawl.

The next day at the pack office, Henrik approached me, his usual confident stride faltering when I instinctively took several steps back. “Savannah,” he said, his voice tinged with concern, “what’s wrong?”

I met his gaze with icy detachment. “We’re done.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me into a private conference room, his face pale. “Savannah, is this because I didn’t come home the last two nights? I was at the hospital—I was busy.”

The disgust in me surged, but I kept my voice flat. “Liana has told me more than once about your behavior with Jocelyn Hall.”

Liana, the young Delta intern in my department, had mentioned their inappropriate interactions multiple times. I’d dismissed it as exaggeration, but now? Now I couldn’t believe how blind I’d been.

Henrik’s expression shifted, and he insisted, “Jocelyn is my assistant. It’s normal for us to be close. Haven’t I explained this already?”

“Close enough to share a chair and feed each other fruit?” I shot back.

His face paled further, and to my shock, he dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face. “Savannah, I was wrong! I’ll keep my distance from her. I’ll fire her immediately, okay?”

He clutched at my waist, his voice breaking. “Please, forgive me this once. I love you—I can’t live without you.”

His begging softened me, just a little. Henrik had always been so proud, so composed. To see him like this—humbled, desperate—it made me wonder if he still loved me after all.

After a moment’s hesitation, I relented. “Fine. As long as you two don’t interact, we’ll stay together.”

He laughed through his tears, wrapping his arms around me. “You’re incredible.”

But his touch made my skin crawl, and the doubt lingered. Just then, his phone buzzed with a notification labeled “Mistress Wife.”

The message read: “Meet me at the office later. Something fun planned.”

My jaw tightened, but I kept my composure. “I hope you mean what you said. Or we’re finished.”

He swore up and down that he’d keep his promises, insisting he couldn’t live without me. But as he walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.