After a decade with Alpha Kohen Rice, I accidentally answered his phone.

"Oh, Kohen, our Daisy just had a litter of puppies," a soft voice cooed, displayed simply as “Puppy.”

“The Alpha is in the shower. Call back later,” I replied coolly before hanging up.

That night, Kohen was frantic, grabbing clothes strewn across the floor and throwing them on as he rushed out. Meanwhile, I wiped away every trace of myself from our "home," removing everything.

I boarded a flight to another country.

Three years later, Kohen tracked me down on a small island resort. He couldn't take his eyes off the little boy beside me, the spitting image of him. His eyes reddened as he asked, “Is he mine?”

---

Kohen, the Alpha of the Silverfang Pack, was brimming with energy, while I was so worn out I could barely keep my eyes open. My phone kept ringing. Half-asleep, I accidentally picked up.

“Kohen! Our Daisy just had a litter of puppies!” The voice was sweet and gentle as could be, but it jolted me awake instantly, as if struck by lightning. I glanced at the caller ID: “Puppy.”

“Alpha Kohen?” the voice chimed in again.

I took a deep breath and responded evenly, “The Alpha is in the shower. Call back later.”

There was a pause, then silence as the call ended.

When Kohen emerged from the bathroom, a towel hung low on his hips. Water trickled down his muscled form, seeping into the fabric. Fresh nail marks on his skin—my doing.

“Why don’t you catch some more sleep?” he suggested, his gaze darkening at the red marks on my collarbone.

As he leaned in closer, I handed him his phone. He frowned, snatching it from me, setting it aside before pinning my hands with care, his breath tickling my skin.

“She called,” I mentioned. “Said your Daisy had puppies.”

He froze, realization flooding his features. He scrambled, hastily pulling on his clothes as he hurried out.

I sat alone in the “home” we had designed together, watching him run to another woman.

The girl was his mate, set up by the pack elders in a blind arrangement. They had started communicating about three months ago, and within less than a month, they had gone from strangers to officially bonded. They even adopted a stray cat together, a symbol of their budding connection. She shared her experiences with him—food, music, the simple pleasure of watching a cloud drift across the sky. He responded to everything, sending her carefully curated pictures of his dinners, conveniently omitting any trace of me.

My interactions with Alpha Kohen Rice, however, were strictly professional. It was only under the cover of midnight that he’d whisper “darling” in my ear—a word meant to ignite something between us. Despite everything, I clung to it as if it were a treasure I’d guarded for a decade.

Laughing at my own naivety, I rummaged through a drawer to find Kohen’s forgotten pack of cigarettes. It had been so long since the last one that the smoke choked me, bringing tears to my eyes.

My colleague, Scarlett Palmer, mind-linked me: *Brooklyn, did you know Alpha Kohen has found his mate?*

In public, Kohen and I were always strictly professional, often clashing over our differing viewpoints. No one could have imagined how he playfully teased me when we were alone, whispering, “What can you do with the mate the Moon Goddess chose for you? Just spoil them!”

It was an utterly unimaginable scene.

And today, Kohen added Miriam to the pack’s group mind-link.

*Hello everyone, I’m Miriam Meyer, Alpha Kohen’s Beta. Nice to meet you all!*

Her introduction was polite, but her tone carried a subtle possessiveness, as if she were already claiming her place beside him.

Sometimes words don’t need to be spoken to be understood.

I wasn’t sure how Kohen explained away the mind-link I intercepted, but I knew Miriam had been adding everyone from the pack, checking them off one by one.

Scarlett sent me a mental eye-roll. *Work is already annoying enough, and now we’re treated like imaginary rivals.*

Soon after, Miriam posted a picture of a latte on her pack’s shared mind-link, captioned: *Don’t snoop around in others’ business, manners matter!*

Kohen acknowledged her post with a mental nod of approval.

Expressionless, I grabbed a baseball bat and went on a rampage through the house. When the chaos was complete, I finally felt a sense of satisfaction.

As the cleaning crew arrived, I sat on the only intact couch, lost in thought. It wasn’t particularly valuable, but I was too drained. Truly, utterly exhausted.

“Ms. Rice, are you alright?” one of them asked, noticing my disheveled state. Meanwhile, my mental conversation with Kohen sat untouched for the past two hours.

I shook my head gently, offering a genuine smile. “Please take all of the lady’s belongings out of here.”

Kohen Rice and I attended the same pack academy. He was the son of the Alpha, his life meticulously charted out—every step predetermined. But Kohen was stubborn; he defied his family’s expectations and carved his own path as an entrepreneur. I became his first business partner. He brought the resources, and I brought the grit.

Once, I asked him why he chose me. There were plenty in our pack who seemed more capable, more polished. He twirled a pen absently between his fingers, his amber eyes locking onto mine with a warmth that made my stomach flutter.

“I like you,” he said finally, a slow smile spreading across his face. “For that unyielding spirit of yours.”

Back then, it was my relentless drive that caught his attention. Later, that same ambition became what he feared. Miriam Meyer was different from me—soft-spoken, uncomplicated. She was the perfect Luna candidate, someone who wouldn’t challenge him but would seamlessly fit into his life. Kohen was decisive; he knew what he wanted and acted on it.

We were similar, he and I—always pushing, always striving, like two wolves circling each other in a hunt. This mutual understanding made us formidable business partners, adept at navigating tough negotiations and crafting strategies that led us to success. But it also made us volatile, like two flames that could either light up the world or burn it down.

The night we celebrated our first major success, we drank too much and ended up sprawled on a bed surrounded by scattered pack records and loose bills. Kohen turned his head to me, his gaze heavy with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Brooklyn, you’re amazing,” he said, his voice low and rough.

I laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The relentless pace of our work eventually caught up with Kohen, and he fell ill with a fever that left him weak and disoriented. I stayed by his side, tending to him until he suddenly shifted, his larger wolf form pinning me beneath him. His eyes were bloodshot, his body radiating heat like a furnace.

“I like you,” he whispered again, this time with no hesitation, his voice thick with emotion.

The air between us was charged, filled with the faint scent of cedarwood and mint, a scent that was uniquely his. His words were like a spark, igniting something deep within me, pulling us both into a current neither of us could resist.