I couldn't breathe. The clinic walls seemed to close in around me as I stared at the phone, at the evidence of Rhett's betrayal playing on repeat. My hands trembled as I saved the video to my private cloud account.

"I need to go," I told my assistant, grabbing my keys. "Emergency. Cancel my afternoon appointments."

The drive home passed in a blur. Our apartment—the one we'd decorated together for our future—felt like a museum of lies. Every photo, every shared memory now tainted by the scent of another woman.

My wolf paced restlessly inside me, her growls vibrating through my chest. "We should hunt her down," she snarled. "Make her submit."

"No," I whispered, forcing myself to think clearly. "We need evidence."

I opened my laptop and typed "SkyHighTorres" into the search bar. Skyla's social media profiles populated the screen—Instagram, Facebook, Twitter. A college student at Riverside University. Twenty-two years old. Member of the Crescent Moon Pack.

I clicked through her Instagram, my stomach knotting tighter with each swipe. There it was—a pattern of posts dating back months. A coffee cup placed next to another, captioned "Morning rituals with my favorite person." A shadow of a wolf in the forest, unmistakably bronze in color. Rhett's wolf form.

"Fated love is overrated," read one caption from three months ago. "Some bonds are chosen, not forced."

My fingers moved mechanically, screenshotting everything, downloading photos, saving captions. The initial shock crystallized into something colder, harder—a clinical need for documentation.

"Look at this," I murmured to my wolf as I printed page after page. "He's been planning this for months."

---

The next morning, I arrived at the clinic early, my face a careful mask of professionalism. The receptionist gave me a curious look—I'd never been the type to cancel appointments.

"Dr. Robinson," she said hesitantly, "are you okay? You look..."

"Fine," I cut her off, my voice sharper than intended. "Just busy."

The morning proceeded normally until the bell above the door chimed around lunchtime. A young woman with flowing dark hair stepped inside, carrying a small terrier mix.

"Dr. Robinson?" she asked sweetly. "I need a check-up for my baby."

The air in the room changed instantly. That cloying floral scent hit me like a slap—the same artificial fragrance from the video. Skyla Torres stood before me in the flesh, her green eyes glittering with malice barely concealed beneath a veneer of innocence.

My wolf surged forward, teeth bared. I forced her back, my hands steady as I took the dog's leash.

"Name?" I asked, my voice perfectly calm.

"Skyla," she replied, watching me closely. "Skyla Torres."

I nodded, pretending to check the dog's ears while studying her reflection in the metal equipment. "Healthy ears. Now let's see those teeth."

"Some mates just don't have that spark anymore," Skyla said suddenly, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "It's sad when bonds fade, isn't it?"

I straightened slowly, meeting her gaze directly. "That's an interesting observation for someone who's not mated."

Her smile faltered for just a moment.

"Sit," I commanded, not to Skyla but to her dog, who immediately obeyed. My Alpha tone filled the room—not enough to challenge openly, but enough to assert dominance.

Skyla's eyes widened slightly. "Impressive control," she murmured. "But Rhett prefers wilder wolves. More... passionate."

The confirmation hung between us like a blade.

---

I was cleaning exam room three when the front desk called to tell me Skyla was leaving. Through the window, I watched her saunter to her car, phone already in hand.

I stepped outside, needing air that didn't smell of her perfume.

"Well, if it isn't the frigid Future Beta's mate," Skyla called out loudly as I passed. "No wonder he seeks warmth elsewhere."

I kept walking, but she wasn't finished.

"You know it's true," she continued, her voice carrying across the parking lot. "A mate bond is just biology. Love is a choice."

Several pack members waiting with their pets turned to stare. A few humans looked confused, but wolves understood the implications immediately.

"Is that why you're here?" I asked quietly. "To make a scene?"

"Someone needs to," she replied with a smirk. "Everyone's so afraid of hurting the precious Moon Goddess's gift."

More heads turned. Whispers began.

"The Future Beta's mate was challenged by an outsider..."

"Did you hear what she said about the mate bond?"

"Is there trouble between Kenna and Rhett?"

I realized with sudden clarity what Skyla was doing—provoking me into a public fight that would make me look unstable just days before our ceremony.

My wolf growled low in my throat as I stepped closer to her. "You have no idea what you're playing with."

Skyla's smile widened as she backed toward her car. "Don't I?"

The door clicked open at precisely 7:13 PM. I glanced up from my book, my face carefully composed into what I hoped was a neutral expression. Rhett walked in, his dark hair slightly damp from what smelled like an extra-long shower. The scent of pine and soap clung to him, but underneath lurked something else—something chemical and sharp.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, his smile wide and practiced as he held out a bouquet of white lilies. "Sorry I'm late. Pack business ran overtime."

I accepted the flowers with a tight smile, burying my face in their petals to hide my expression. The bleach scent was unmistakable—he'd scrubbed himself raw trying to erase her.

"They're lovely," I murmured, reaching for the vase on the kitchen counter. "Beta reports must have been particularly challenging today."

His hand twitched—almost imperceptibly—before he caught himself. "Just the usual security assessments. You know how Kane gets before ceremonies."

"Do I?" I kept my tone light, arranging the stems with methodical precision. "I thought you were handling territory disputes today."

A flicker of surprise crossed his features before he recovered. "That too. It's all about multitasking when you're Future Beta material."

He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind, pressing his lips to my neck. The contact made my skin crawl, but I leaned into him, playing my part.

"The ceremony's in three days," he murmured against my skin. "I can't wait to make it official."

"Eight years," I agreed softly. "Finally."

His hand moved to the scar on his right hand, tracing the jagged line with his thumb—his nervous tell. The same scar I'd seen in that video, holding a whiskey glass while Skyla toasted to their future.

"I was thinking," he continued, his voice taking on an artificially bright tone, "we could take a small honeymoon after the ceremony. Just a weekend somewhere quiet."

"Like the Riverside Hotel?" I suggested innocently.

His body tensed against mine. "Why would you say that?"

"Just a thought," I replied, turning to face him. "It seems... scenic."

He kissed me then, a desperate press of lips that tasted of lies. I counted to ten before pulling away, citing dinner preparations.

"I'm going to grab a shower," he announced, already backing toward our bedroom. "Been a long day."

I nodded, waiting until I heard the water running before moving. My heart hammered against my ribs as I slipped into our bedroom, silently approaching his gym bag.

The bag lay open on the floor, containing the usual workout clothes and protein bars. But I knew better now. I knew to look deeper.

My fingers traced the seam of the inner lining until I found it—a small tear that didn't align with the rest of the stitching. Carefully, I pried it open to reveal a sleek black phone.

A burner phone.

My hands trembled as I picked it up, the weight of what I was about to discover pressing down on me. The lock screen required a passcode.

I tried our anniversary date. Nothing.

Our first kiss? Nothing.

Then I remembered—the date of his elite training graduation. The day he'd claimed made him who he was, despite being secretly expelled.

The phone unlocked with a soft chime.

I swallowed hard, navigating to the gallery first. Images flooded the screen—dozens of them. Rhett and Skyla in various locations around town. At restaurants. In parks. In hotel rooms.

But worse were the videos. The two of them running through sacred pack lands in wolf form—territories meant only for mated pairs and pack ceremonies. Their wolves nuzzling, playing, mating under the moonlight.

My stomach churned as I opened the messaging app.

Hundreds of texts filled the screen, dating back months. Sweet nothings. Explicit photos. Plans for their next meeting.

I scrolled up, back through time, my finger moving mechanically until I reached December 25th.

Christmas Day. The day I lost our pup.

*"Block the bond so we can finish this bottle uninterrupted,"* Skyla had texted.

*"Done. She thinks I'm patrolling,"* Rhett had replied.

The phone slipped from my fingers, clattering to the bathroom floor as I sank to my knees. The timeline crashed together in my mind—the rogue attack, my desperate mind-link calls, the fall, the blood...

While I was bleeding out, losing our child, Rhett had been laughing in bed with his mistress.

Something shifted inside me then—a fundamental breaking of whatever remaining love I'd harbored. This wasn't just betrayal. This was calculated cruelty.

My wolf howled within me, a sound of such pure rage it threatened to tear me apart from inside.

"Kenna?" Rhett called from the shower. "Is everything okay?"

I scrambled to my feet, scooping up the phone and slipping it into my pocket.

"Just fine," I called back, my voice steady despite the storm raging within. "Just waiting for you to get clean."

Because that's what I needed to do now—cleanse everything about Rhett from my life. Not just break up with him.

Destroy him.