I guarded the tomb of the Lycan Prince for ten years, only to discover it was an empty coffin.

He had used me, his mate, as a decoy, faking his death to escape his enemies. Now, he returned at the head of an army, storming into the territory he once ruled. On the day of our reunion, he knelt before me, asking if I would be his Luna.

The pack whispered of his undying devotion, of how fortunate I was to have him back. But I refused.

Because my heart belonged to someone else.

A Delta warrior who had stayed by my side during those long, isolated years in the wilderness.

---

The remote territory where I guarded the tomb was silent, cut off from the world. I went about my daily routine, sweeping the stone steps of the mausoleum, the sound of the broom scraping against the ground the only noise in the stillness.

For a decade, this had been my life. But today was different.

Rumors had spread that a powerful Alpha named Drake Montgomery had led a rebellion, reclaiming the territory he once ruled. Some even claimed it was the Lycan Prince himself, back from the dead.

But my mate, Drake Montgomery, had died. I had seen it with my own eyes.

He died in the second year of our bond, his eyes filled with tears as he whispered his last words to me. “Stephanie, if there’s another life, I’ll never leave you.”

I didn’t blame him. The life of a Lycan Prince was treacherous, and I had accepted that. That night, I had planned to follow him in death, but I discovered I was pregnant. I was confined to the packhouse, isolated and alone.

When I was three months along, a rogue posing as a servant poisoned me. I lay unconscious for a day and a night. When I awoke, I knew the pup was gone.

My grief was unbearable. The Lycan King stripped me of my title as Luna and offered me the chance to remarry. But I was empty, a shell of who I once was. I chose exile, volunteering to guard the tomb of the Lycan Prince for the rest of my life.

As I lost myself in these thoughts, a voice called out behind me. “Stephanie.”

It trembled, heavy with emotion.

I gripped the broom tightly, my heart pounding as I turned around.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. There he stood, alive and real.

Drake Montgomery, dressed in black combat gear, his piercing gaze fixed on me, his eyes red with unshed tears.

“Stephanie, it’s me! I’m Drake.”

I recognized him instantly. My mate. My lost love.

“Stephanie, I’m so sorry for all these years. You’ve suffered so much.”

He pulled me into a tight embrace, his tears warm against my neck.

“But… you died,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

I looked past him, scanning the faces of the warriors behind him. My blood turned cold. They were his most trusted pack members, faces I recognized from years ago.

So he had taken his loyal pack members with him, but left me behind in that cold, empty packhouse.

A wave of bitter sadness washed over me, and tears filled my eyes.

Drake gently wiped them away with his thumb.

“Don’t cry. We’ve won.”

His warriors cheered, their voices echoing in the silence. But their joy only deepened my pain.

They rounded up the guards who had been stationed at the tomb.

“Your Highness, these are rogues loyal to the traitorous Alpha. What should we do with them?”

Drake glanced at them indifferently.

“Kill them.”

The guards fell to their knees, begging for mercy. They were nothing but low-ranking pack members, forgotten in this desolate place. Their lives meant nothing to him.

But one man stood tall, calm and composed.

It was Gerardo Martin, my mate.

Yes.

I had not remained loyal to Drake.

Life in Weiling was harsh. The biting wind and freezing cold were relentless. Even though I had left behind my days as the Luna of the Lycan Prince, learning to carry water and grow vegetables from scratch, I still struggled. My crops withered, and I couldn’t even harvest a single grain. I sold all my jewelry, but the money only lasted two years. At that point, I didn’t care much about living anymore. I lay quietly in my room, waiting to starve, thinking that death would reunite me with Drake Montgomery.

But one night, someone crept into my bed, startling me awake. I was about to scream when a hand clamped over my mouth. "Luna Stephanie, don’t shout! I’ll give you money... aren’t you hungry?" I recognized his voice—it was the man I had entrusted to sell my jewelry. I understood his intentions, but I was determined to see Drake again. I wasn’t afraid of death; how could I let myself be humiliated? I unsheathed my claws and struck at him, aiming precisely. Unfortunately, I was weak from hunger, and my attack lacked strength. A slap sent stars exploding across my vision, and my ears rang incessantly. I stared at the shadowy figure, summoning all my strength to let out a piercing howl.

Gerardo Martin, a Delta warrior on patrol, saved me that night. I leaned against the wall, standing shakily, and managed to say, "Thank you." He paused, noticing my empty expression and the absence of tears, and didn’t leave immediately. His eyes swept over the barren room, then he pulled a packet of jerky from his coat and placed it on the table. "Eat something?" I instinctively moved toward the food but stopped myself. "No. I want to die." Gerardo chuckled softly. "Even in this remote place, Luna Stephanie, your beauty is unmatched. I doubt death would make you any less desirable." His words terrified me. I grabbed the jerky and devoured it. If I was this beautiful, I couldn’t die. I’d live until no one wanted my corpse. Gerardo watched me intently, nodding in agreement. "You might have to live to ninety-nine, then." I felt a mix of joy and despair—joy at the confirmation of my beauty, despair at the thought of living so long.

But Gerardo stayed. He taught me how to grow vegetables, hunted rabbits for me, showed me how to wash clothes and cook, and helped me adapt to life in Weiling. He even went to the man who had cheated me out of my money and retrieved what was rightfully mine. He was incredibly kind to me. Yet, I never considered remating. Gerardo knew my heart still belonged to Drake and never revealed his own feelings.

Three years after we met, five years after I began guarding Drake’s memorial, an earthquake struck Weiling. The Lycan Prince’s memorial collapsed. I didn’t care about my own safety. In the pouring rain, I clawed through layers of rubble with my bare hands, ignoring the pain and blood. I couldn’t let Drake be crushed. The onlookers from Weiling were moved but did nothing to help. Only Gerardo, rushing to the scene, his face flushed with anger, pulled me away. "Stephanie Martin, are you trying to kill yourself?" I refused to leave. I had to know if Drake was alright. "I’ll dig for you! Just watch me, okay?" Gerardo forced an umbrella into my hands. After a day and a night, we finally reached the stone coffin. Gerardo’s face was pale, his arms drenched in blood, but he used the last of his strength to push open the lid. Inside, the coffin was empty. For all these years, I had been guarding an empty grave.

It was in that moment I realized Drake had lied to me. And Gerardo, having lost too much blood, collapsed at my feet. "Don’t be sad," he said weakly, still trying to comfort me. "Maybe he’s still alive."