The Alpha of the Munoz Pack, Damien Munoz, was suddenly accused by the werewolf media of having a secret mate bond and a pup. He quickly issued a public denial.

"There is no mate bond, nor is there a pup," he declared, his alpha tone resonating with authority. "Everyone knows I have been unmated all these years."

I watched his impassive face on the screen, the screen that now felt like a barrier between us, between the truth and the lie he so effortlessly spun. Then, I glanced at my daughter, Isabela, who sat quietly on the floor, her tiny shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Her confusion and pain mirrored my own. Years of hope, of silent battles and quiet endurance, vanished in an instant.

When he returned to the packhouse, I didn’t rush out with Isabela to greet him as I once did. Nor did I feel the usual flutter of excitement, that sense of joy from a reunion after a brief absence. Instead, I reviewed a few messages I had received, each one a dagger to the bond we once shared.

One was a document confirming a medical procedure he had undergone six days ago, one that would ensure no more pups could be conceived. Accompanying it was a message that read, "If you wish, Isabela can be my only heir from now on."

Tears welled up as I replied, my fingers trembling over the screen. "Please come get us. I don’t want to stay in the Munoz Pack any longer."

---

I gazed at the image of Damien Munoz’s striking but aloof face, the face of the Alpha who had once claimed me as his mate. A wave of confusion overtook me. His reputation for being emotionally distant and calculating was well-known—never showing his emotions openly. Yet, he wasn’t exactly as described, as a reclusive workaholic who cared only for the pack.

Damien was hardly restrained; his passions were always intense, almost overwhelming. Before his trips to neighboring packs or territories, he ignored my tears and pleas, using a silk tie to gently bind my wrists, holding me close as we gave in to the fire of our bond. Later, I would gently mark his neck, a silent claim that should still be there now.

The dark navy tie with intricate patterns that he’s wearing was a gift I personally selected for the anniversary of our mate bond. This marked our fourth year together, and we had a beautiful daughter. She had just turned three.

But now, my mate, or so I thought, Damien Munoz, had just used the coldest, harshest tone to address the media. "There is no mate bond, nor is there a pup," he had said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses perched on his prominent nose, his deep-set eyes emitting a chilling glint that seemed to cut through the screen and land icily on my face. "I advise those with ulterior motives not to indulge in wild fantasies or embarrass themselves."

My wolf stirred within me, a low growl of pain and betrayal echoing in my mind. But I silenced her, refusing to let my inner turmoil show. This was not the time to break. Not in front of the pack, not in front of Isabela.

The words from the media echoed in my ears, each one a reminder of the life I had built on shaky ground. And now, that ground was crumbling beneath me, leaving me with nothing but the cold reality of Damien’s denial.

Damien Munoz finished his speech and abruptly stood up, his towering frame commanding the room as always. His Beta and Delta immediately began to clear the crowd, their movements sharp and efficient, escorting the Alpha to his car and away from the scene. I numbly switched off the television, plunging the living room into darkness. The only light came from a lone floor lamp in the corner, casting a faint, cold glow over the Munoz Pack’s estate—a place that had never truly felt like home.

In that quiet moment, a soft sob broke the silence. I turned quickly, seeing my little pup standing there, her face streaked with tears—confused and hurt but frozen in place.

“Isabela?” I quickly stood up and rushed to her, pulling her into my arms. “Why aren’t you in bed? Did you sneak down here?”

Her tear-stained face pressed against my chest, Isabela bit her lip and asked in a choked voice, “Mom, why did Alpha say he doesn’t have a pup? If he doesn’t have a pup, then what am I?”

The question cut through me like a knife. Damien was always serious and reserved, his Alpha aura commanding respect but leaving little room for warmth. Though he cared for Isabela in his own way, he spent little time at home and rarely showed affection. Isabela admired him but was also intimidated by him, her sensitive nature making her more vulnerable than other pups.

As tears fell again, the determination that had sustained me for so long began to falter. I gently wiped away her tears. “Isabela, do you want to leave here with Mom?”

“Where would we go? Will we ever come back?”

I gave her a bittersweet smile. “No, sweetheart, we won’t come back. This isn’t our pack.”

Looking into her eyes, I said with all the seriousness I could muster, “This is the Munoz Pack’s territory. We’ve overstayed our welcome. It’s time for us to go back to our own home.”

Isabela nodded, her little voice full of trust. “I’ll go wherever Mommy goes.”

“Good girl.” I carried her back to her room, gently kissing her tiny face. “Sleep tight. Mommy will be right here with you.”

Once Isabela was asleep, my gaze fell upon the photo frame on her bedside table—a picture of all three of us, the only one we ever took together. In the photo, Damien sat with his usual distant expression, his broad shoulders and chiseled features as commanding as ever. I cradled a one-year-old Isabela, smiling shyly and contentedly. My body leaned slightly toward him, but he did not lean toward me.

When Isabela was in deep slumber, I took the photo frame and quietly left the room. As I carefully cut the photo, it dawned on me that the gap between our bodies back then had foreshadowed this moment—making it so easy to sever along its line.

The mate bond between us had always been fragile, a thread stretched thin by Damien’s denial and the pack’s expectations. And now, as I looked at the torn edges of the photo, I knew it was time to break that thread for good—for me, for Isabela, and for the life we deserved.

A week later, Alpha Damien returned from his pack business. It was already ten at night when his car pulled into the driveway of the Munoz Pack estate. In the past, no matter how late he arrived, Isabela and I would always wait up for him. But tonight, my pup had already had her bath and gone to bed, her soft breathing a steady rhythm in the quiet house.

I wasn’t in the master suite; instead, I had taken refuge in the guest room on the second floor. As the familiar rumble of his engine approached, I stood on the balcony, my fingers trembling as I reopened the message I had received six days ago—a document confirming a vasectomy. Even now, the sight of it made my eyes sting with unshed tears.

“Laura, if you’re willing, just nod your head once. I will treat Isabela as my own. From now on, she’ll be my only daughter, no, my only pup.”

Kevin’s words echoed in my mind, lingering long after the screen had dimmed. The sound of Alpha Damien’s footsteps reached my ears—first ascending to the third-floor master suite, then descending to where I stood. He paused outside the guest room before knocking.

“Laura, open the door.”

I hastily wiped my tears and shoved my phone beneath the pillow. “I’m really trying to sleep. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

But before I could finish, the door swung open. I froze for a moment, then remembered—this was the Alpha’s house. He had every right to enter any room he pleased.

“Why did you move to the guest room?” His voice carried a sharp edge, colder than usual. I slowly sat up and looked at him. After a long journey, weariness was etched into his features. He rubbed his temples as he spoke, his tone rough with fatigue.

I ignored the flicker of pity in my heart and averted my gaze. “I haven’t been feeling well these past few days. I didn’t want to risk passing anything on to you.”

“That doesn’t bother me. You should move back.”

He noticed I was still sitting on the bed, unmoving. His frown deepened. “Laura?”

“I’m really exhausted. You should get some sleep too...”

Alpha Damien didn’t reply but strode to the bed. Without warning, he leaned down and scooped me up into his arms.

“It’s been a week. Haven’t you missed me...?”

He began to lower his head to kiss me, but I turned away. Surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by displeasure.

“Laura Sanders.”

“What kind of tantrum are you throwing now?”