Reina stubbed out her cigarette, the faint scent of smoke mingling with the crisp night air. Across from her, the young woman sat, her youthful face still bright with the innocence of someone who hadn’t yet been hardened by the harsh realities of pack life. She was a Delta, a warrior from the Crimson Fang Pack, and from the moment Reina had laid eyes on her, she’d felt a pang of nostalgia for her own younger self—before the weight of being Luna-to-be had settled on her shoulders.

"You’re right about one thing," Reina said, her voice steady despite the sharp pain that lanced through her abdomen. She masked it by leaning casually on the table, her posture relaxed, as though the conversation didn’t affect her. "If Alpha Dean still loved me, you wouldn’t be here."

The girl flinched at the title, her eyes darting to the floor in a gesture of deference. It was instinctive, the way lower-ranking wolves responded to the mention of an Alpha’s title. Reina almost pitied her—almost.

Reina straightened, her gaze piercing. "But I’d advise you not to get too involved. Alpha Dean’s never truly loved either of us."

She paused, letting the words sink in. The girl’s hands twitched in her lap, her fingers curling into fists as if to steady herself. Reina continued, her tone softer now, almost regretful. "He only cherishes the memory of a young Reina—a pure, beautiful girl who vanished long ago while trying to help him succeed."

The girl’s eyes flicked up, a hint of defiance in them. "You’re lying," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Reina smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "In a few years, he’ll look for a fresh face, and you’ll end up worse off than me."

In reality, she was deceiving the girl. With her own time running out, she couldn’t be worse off than she already was. At most, the girl would be tossed aside once Alpha Dean lost interest, left to wander the ranks of the pack as just another forgotten Delta. But Reina didn’t say that. Let the girl hold on to her illusions for a little longer. Reality would find her soon enough.

Reina had been with Dean since she was eighteen.

She grew up without her parents and was raised by her grandmother, Leighton, who passed away when Reina was just fifteen. Dean entered her life during that void. His pursuit was relentless, showering her with gifts as if he wanted to lay the world's treasures at her feet. Dean, the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, was charming and commanding, his presence both reassuring and overwhelming. He made Reina feel secure, and she quickly found herself drawn to him.

On her nineteenth birthday, he led her into a new level of closeness, guiding her from discomfort to surrender that night. They became inseparable. The following day, Dean introduced her to his inner circle—his Beta, Gamma, and other high-ranking members of the pack. Unused to such settings, Reina clung nervously to Dean's arm and greeted them shyly. Their eyes held a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Alpha," one of them said, "how did you end up with someone so young?"

"She's too sweet; she'll just hold you back," another added.

Reina didn't understand then what they meant by "hold back." She couldn't help but quietly assert, "I won't."

"I won't be a burden to the Alpha."

She was resolute, but as she gradually acclimated to Dean's world, she realized the kind of life he led—a life balanced on the precipice of danger. To avoid dragging him down and to stand by his side, she forced herself to adapt to that environment. She trained alongside the pack's warriors, learning to fight and defend herself, though her natural gentleness often clashed with the brutal reality of pack life.

Over ten years, she changed dramatically. She cut her hair short, dyed it, and adorned her body with tattoos that symbolized her loyalty to the Silver Moon Pack. Her body bore countless scars as evidence of her transformation. It was her toughness that helped Dean solidify his position as Alpha, his aura growing stronger with each challenge they faced together.

Yet Dean didn't seem happy.

Countless nights, he would hold her close, his fingers tracing the scars on her skin before leaning in to kiss them.

"Reina," he murmured, burying his face against her chest with a sigh, "I still miss the old you."

And every time, after a moment of stunned silence, Reina would push him away, light a cigarette, and laugh before teasing him.

"Alpha," she would say, her voice teasing but with an edge, "talking like that is such a betrayal."

She had given up so much to stand by his side, to be the Luna the pack needed. But now, as she faced her own mortality and the betrayal that had shattered their bond, she wondered if it had all been worth it. The life they had built together, the sacrifices she had made—none of it could erase the pain of his infidelity or the terminal illness that now loomed over her.

Reina's resolve hardened. She would leave him, not out of weakness, but out of a newfound strength. The mate bond that had once tied them together now felt like a chain, and she was ready to break free.

It was the early hours of the morning when Alpha Dean Willis returned to the Silver Moon Pack’s territory. Reina Lawson lay in bed, her eyes wide open, staring into the darkness. She hadn’t slept at all.

Before long, Dean pulled her into his embrace. "Still awake?" he asked, leaning in to kiss her, only to feel empty space. Confused, he held her tighter, trying to suppress his frustration. "Who upset you, Reina? I’ll handle it for you, okay?"

"Alpha," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Yeah?" he responded, his tone softening slightly.

The room was so dark she couldn’t see his face, but she could smell the lingering scent of rosemary clinging to him—a scent that wasn’t hers.

"Let’s break the bond."

Dean stiffened, then let go, rolling over to the side. "What now?" he sighed, rubbing his temples with impatience. "You’re too grown-up for this kind of drama."

He chuckled lightly, "Reina, you’re not getting any younger. Who would mark a Luna who smokes, drinks, has tattoos, and is tougher than most Deltas in the pack?"

Her chest tightened, a dull pain spreading she couldn’t suppress. Last year, when she had twelve stitches sewn into her arm without anesthesia due to an allergy, she gritted her teeth without uttering a sound. Yet, Dean’s drunken honesty now brought tears to her eyes.

"Alpha," she couldn’t help but ask, "If I were terminally ill, would you..."

"Reina." He cut her off, a hint of irritation in his voice. "Don’t ask pointless questions."

"If you really were terminally ill, would you want me to join you in some dramatic act?" He pressed his fingers against his brow. "I’m busy with the marking ceremony and the pack’s affairs. I don’t have time for this nonsense."

As he spoke, his phone suddenly buzzed. Annoyed, he hung up on the call, but it rang again. After several attempts, Dean got out of bed with his phone. "Yeah?"

A girl’s sobbing voice trickled through the receiver, indistinct but persistent.

"Damn it," Dean muttered under his breath, "This is such a hassle."

Despite his words, he hurried out the door. "There’s a problem with the pack’s patrols. I need to deal with it."

"You should get some sleep. Don’t wait up for me."

The door closed behind him, leaving Reina alone in the darkness. She clenched her fists, her wolf whimpering softly in the back of her mind, a sound of quiet despair. She had hoped, foolishly, that he might notice her pain, that he might care enough to stay. But Dean was the Alpha, and his priorities were always the pack—or so he claimed.

Reina turned her face into the pillow, letting the tears she’d held back finally fall. She thought of the marking ceremony, now just days away, and the life she had built with Dean over the past ten years. It all felt like a cruel joke now, a bond that had once been her anchor now dragging her deeper into despair.

Outside, the howl of a lone wolf echoed through the night, a haunting reminder of the world she was preparing to leave behind.