The pack had organized a gathering in the woods, a tradition to strengthen bonds and let off steam after a full moon. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the clearing, someone suggested we make the night more interesting. A game of drawing lots would decide who would share a tent for the night.

I didn’t want to join in, but Lena, a Delta in the Silver Fang Pack and Gregory’s closest confidante, drew the number for our tent. She looked at us with those pleading eyes of hers, and Gregory, the Alpha of the Silver Fang Pack, immediately let go of my hand.

“Are you really going to make her feel awkward now?” he snapped, his Alpha tone sharp and commanding.

“Eleanora, could you stop being so uptight for once?”

They climbed into the tent in front of everyone. Through the gap, I saw Gregory’s restless hand, his fingers twitching as if eager to reach for something—or someone. When it was my turn to draw, Gregory laughed, a cruel sound that echoed through the clearing.

“She’s too rigid to play along,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Just then, Keith Walker, the Alpha of the Blue Moon Pack, approached me. His presence was commanding, his tall, muscular frame towering over most of the others. He extended his hand, his piercing gaze locking onto mine.

“Want to share a tent with me?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

The pack fell silent. Everyone knew Keith rarely involved himself in such games, and rumors of his disinterest in mates were widespread. Yet under their watchful eyes, I took his hand and walked into a tent, leaving Gregory outside, his phone buzzing incessantly as he tried to call me.

---

As evening deepened, the organizer, seeing the shortage of tents, jokingly proposed, “Mates in one tent, and everyone else partners up.”

Gregory and I were mated, so one tent should have been perfect for us. Or so I thought. As I relaxed a little, a single pack member raised his hand with a cheeky grin.

“Why should mated pairs get a tent while we single folks have to pair up?”

“And let’s face it, didn’t we all come here hoping to meet someone special? There’s no fun in splitting up.”

“Plus, check out the she-wolves here; they only have eyes for the Alphas, leaving us hanging.”

His words brought laughter and agreement from the group.

The organizer asked, “So, what’s your idea?”

“Why not draw lots to decide who shares a tent?”

“It’s fair, and everyone gets a chance.”

His idea was met with cheers, the pack members excited at the prospect of pairing up with someone attractive for the night. As they eagerly gathered paper and pens, I tugged at Gregory’s sleeve.

“Greg, this game isn’t for us. Let’s just leave…”

I thought, considering we were mated, they wouldn’t mess with us. But Gregory gave me an annoyed look and pulled his sleeve free.

“It’s just a game. Why are you such a buzzkill? You can leave if you want; I’m staying.”

Gregory spoke in a hushed tone, his voice tinged with irritation. I opened my mouth to argue but ultimately lowered my head.

We’d only been mated a short time; our parents had arranged it. He was an Alpha, handsome and powerful, a catch in any pack. My parents often said being his mate was like winning the lottery.

But in reality, Gregory had never been kind to me. When angry, he might not speak to me for days or even weeks until I cried and begged for forgiveness. I was used to this dynamic, and Gregory’s rebuke left me speechless.

By then, the men had already scribbled numbers and crumpled them into balls for everyone to pick.

“If you draw the same number, you share a tent.”

It was a thrilling game, and surprisingly, the mated pairs were the first to grab numbers. Even when split up, they cheerily accepted their fate, teasing each other about their willingness to take a chance.

I had always been under strict guidance from my parents, who raised me to be proper. I never dared to take such a bold step.

My palms were sweaty, and just as I tried to muster the courage to speak to Gregory, I heard a familiar voice.

“I’ve drawn number three…”

I turned toward the voice to see Lena, her ponytail swinging, looking our way with pursed lips.

Number three?

I glanced at the number Gregory had just revealed. It was the same.

But why, of all people, was it Lena…

Lena was a Delta in the Silver Fang Pack and Gregory’s closest confidante, aware of things I didn’t even know. No she-wolf would want such a close female friend around her mate.

Whenever I voiced my discomfort over their relationship, Gregory’s reaction was always impatient.

“Seriously, Eleanora, stop being so narrow-minded!”

“Lena and I are just packmates! If we wanted to be together, it would’ve happened ages ago!”

Gregory had said those words with such certainty back then. Yet now, facing Lena, he was at a loss for words.

“Greg…”

Lena said nothing, only gazed at him with a helpless look. Gregory, who usually ignored my pleas, couldn’t withstand her gaze for even thirty seconds.

As he stood up, I clung to his wrist.

“Greg, you can’t do this; I’m here too, I…”

Just moments ago, Gregory had looked at Lena with tenderness, but now he frowned at me.

“Are you really going to embarrass her now?”

“Her mate just died; she’s at her most vulnerable!”

“Eleanora, could you stop being so petty!”

Gregory shook off my hand and followed Lena into the tent. Through the tent flap, I watched Lena’s hand slide onto Gregory’s inner thigh. My wolf whimpered softly in the back of my mind, a sound of pain and betrayal that only I could hear.

My body trembled uncontrollably, and before I could stop myself, I surged to my feet, ready to storm into the private pavilion and put an end to the spectacle. But the other pack members crowded in, blocking my path, their laughter and jeers echoing in my ears.

Gregory—Alpha of the Silver Fang Pack—glanced at me with a smirk, his deep voice dripping with mockery. "What’s the rush, Omega? Aren’t you curious to see if your mate will stay true to his vows?"

I opened my mouth to retort, but my words caught in my throat as I caught sight of Gregory inside the pavilion. His hand rested lightly on Lena’s bodice, a subtle yet unmistakable gesture. Lena, a Delta in our pack, wore a Victorian-style dress that clung to her curves, the snug fit accentuating her figure. Gregory’s hand seemed to blend seamlessly with the fabric, his fingers alternating between grasping and releasing in a way that made my stomach churn.

Even from a distance, I could see Lena’s flushed face, the way her body trembled under his touch. It felt as though a heavy stone was pressing on my chest, suffocating me. The bond between us—the mate bond—burned painfully, a constant reminder of his betrayal.

I closed my eyes, but it didn’t help. The sounds were worse—Lena’s heavy breathing, her soft, flirtatious murmurs, and the mocking laughter of the onlookers. It was an agonizing eternity before Lena finally emerged, her dress slightly disheveled, a faint trace of something glistening at her lips. Gregory, on the other hand, looked as composed as ever, as if nothing had happened. He even had the audacity to reach for my hand, his Alpha aura pressing down on me like a weight.

I stepped aside, avoiding his touch, and his expression darkened. "Eleanora, stop overreacting!" he snapped, his voice sharp with irritation. "We were alone for an hour, nothing happened!"

Nothing happened? Did he truly think I was so naive? The bond between us screamed otherwise, a searing pain that twisted deeper with every word he spoke.

Before I could respond, the host of the gathering—a Beta from the Silver Fang Pack—stepped in, attempting to diffuse the tension. "Alright, alright, next up, Omega Eleanora, it’s your turn."

Gregory, however, blocked my path, his tone dismissive as he addressed the host. "Let’s skip it. My mate is... traditional. She wouldn’t enjoy this sort of game."

Traditional? I nearly laughed. He had been so eager to chase after Lena, and now suddenly I was too traditional? The hypocrisy of it all was almost too much to bear. Anger and bitterness churned within me, and I stepped forward, maneuvering around Gregory with a defiance that surprised even me.

"I’ll join," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.

Gregory’s eyes widened, and the crowd murmured in surprise. I ignored them, reaching for a pavilion number. Number five. The pack members exchanged uncertain glances, but no one stepped forward to claim it. Gregory seemed relieved, his hand brushing my shoulder as he tried to pull me back. "Come on, Eleanora, what’s gotten into you?" he said, his tone softening, though it still carried an edge of condescension. "You wouldn’t even let me stay over before we were mated. How could you possibly join a game like this? If you’re just trying to make me jealous, it’s childish. See, there’s no one—"

"It’s mine."

Gregory’s words were cut off by a deep, commanding voice that sent a shiver down my spine. The crowd parted, and a man stepped forward—Alpha Keith Walker of the Blue Moon Pack. His presence was overwhelming, his muscular frame and commanding aura drawing every eye in the room. Gregory was considered attractive by most standards, but Keith was on another level entirely. He looked like a figure straight out of the graphic novels I’d loved in my youth—strong, imposing, and undeniably handsome.

Keith’s gaze met mine, a hint of amusement in his piercing eyes. "I’m staying in pavilion number five," he said, his voice low and smooth. "So, would you care to join me?"