In the dead of night, under the shadows of the ancient Blackwood Forest, I lay gasping for breath, bloodied and broken. While my husband, Elias, was busy celebrating a moonlit reunion with his pack’s former alpha, Lena—his first love. They were marking ten years since they'd met, with him howling in delight and toasting to old memories.

I tried to send him a desperate howl through our mental link, my voice barely a whimper in his mind. But his cold response echoed back: "Save it, kyra. Your tricks won’t drag me away from Lena tonight. I’m not coming back for you."

Oddly enough, I was relieved when he didn’t rush to my side. Knowing Elias, he'd probably have made things worse. With him, the savagery was always just below the surface.

Three days later, I was gone from his world. Yet there he was, standing in the middle of a crime scene, playing the role of the sharp investigator, a top wolf tracker for the Crescent Moon Pack, analyzing the latest death that had stirred the entire territory. He was describing the victim’s last agonizing moments, how she fought to survive the attack of a rogue. But Elias had no clue he was unraveling the mystery behind the death of his own mate—me, Kyra, the mate he loathed.

My body had been tossed into the depths of the Blackwood River like unwanted prey. The river’s current carried me to the outskirts of a small human village where I was found by a local fisherman and his dog. At first, he thought it was just a pile of animal remains, until his dog unearthed a hand—a hand that once bore the mark of the Crescent Moon Pack.

Soon enough, the entire village was swarming with Crescent Moon enforcers and wolves from rival packs, trying to piece together what had happened. The trail of bodies they began to find? It was like something from a dark prophecy.

Who was brought in to lead the investigation? None other than Elias, the Crescent Moon’s best tracker. My mate. Of course, they’d call him. No one else in the pack could dissect a crime scene the way he could. They used to say he could follow a trail through a blizzard or find a single drop of blood in a river. I had seen it firsthand, time and again—his relentless precision, his uncanny ability to read the world like it was laid bare just for him.

Even now, as he walked among the remains, his sharp eyes scanned every corner, every disturbance in the dirt. He knelt by the bloodstains, running his fingers through the drying pool as if it could whisper secrets only he could hear. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, picking up scents the rest of the team couldn’t even begin to detect. I watched him, a ghost in the shadows, wondering what he would find here—wondering if he’d know that I was right in front of him all along.

He was treating this place, my final resting spot, like a puzzle he had to solve. His focus was so intense, so clinical, that it almost hurt to watch. I remember when that attention had been turned toward me, when I was the one thing he couldn’t get enough of. Now, all his energy, all his instincts, were wrapped up in finding the person responsible for this carnage. The irony, of course, was that the person he was hunting had already been in his bed the night I was killed. Would he ever put it together?

Elias’s movements were careful, precise, as he worked through the scene. He’d always had this quiet power about him, this strength that didn’t need to boast or roar. In our world, wolves like that were rare. Most relied on brute force, on intimidation, but not Elias. His mind was his greatest weapon. He didn’t need to chase his prey into exhaustion; he just needed to know where they would be before they even got there. And now he was here, the great Crescent Moon tracker, standing over the body of his mate, completely unaware.

I couldn’t help but wonder what went through his head as he worked. Did he suspect? Did something about this scene feel familiar to him? Maybe there was a fleeting thought, a nagging tug in his mind that something was off, but he hadn’t acknowledged it yet. He didn’t even realize what he was truly looking at—who he was trying to find. Or maybe he did, and he was just that good at hiding it.

He knelt again, this time by a fragment of bone, studying it as if the marrow inside could offer him some kind of insight. His sharp senses, honed from years of hunting and tracking, were in overdrive. He’d catch the faintest scent of something familiar, something he couldn’t quite place, and I watched as his brow furrowed in thought. But still, nothing clicked. He was so focused, so intent on solving the mystery that he couldn’t see the truth staring back at him.

A part of me wanted to scream at him, to make him realize that the body he was studying, the scene he was dissecting with such careful detachment, belonged to me. His mate. But another part of me held back. I wanted to see just how long it would take for him to figure it out. Would he put the pieces together on his own? Or would he need someone else to tell him?

Even Elias, with all his years of experience, was rattled by the violence. “This is more than a rogue attack. This...this is a calculated slaughter,” he murmured to Cyrus, his second-in-command and a former rival for Lena’s affections.

Cyrus, who was now leading the investigation, glanced at the wreckage, eyes dark with concern. “According to the trail, this was no ordinary rogue. Whoever did this had an intimate knowledge of pack dynamics.”

Elias nodded, his eyes narrowing. “There’s a pattern here. Someone’s sending a message. A deep grudge. And they won’t stop with one victim.”

He was right. His instincts, as usual, were razor-sharp. Little did he know, the victim who started it all was me, his very own Luna.

Then they found something significant—a silver pendant tangled in the bloodstained roots by the riverbank. It was unmistakable, an emblem of the Crescent Moon Pack, one that only high-ranking members possessed.

Cyrus's face tightened as he turned the pendant over in his hand, his expression shifting to disbelief. “Elias, doesn’t this pendant look just like the one you gave Kyra?”

Elias snatched the pendant from him, inspecting it carefully. His eyes flicked to the engraved crescent moon at the back. He hesitated, but only for a second. “It’s probably just a similar design. These pendants have been passed down through the pack for generations.”

But as he stood there, staring at the crime scene, something gnawed at him. He walked away, stepping into the forest for a moment of solitude, his brow furrowed in thought. His fingers hovered over the pendant once more before he finally dialed my number.

The phone rang once, twice, then cut off. He hung up with a sneer. “She’s ignoring me again. Stubborn, like always. I’ll deal with her later.”

Oh, Elias. For someone so skilled in tracking, you should have known. I made sure that pendant was indistinguishable from the others, taking me time to scrape off the last trace of our bond—the bond you thought could never break.

The pack's healers were in a frenzy, working through the night, trying to piece me back together with every mystical remedy they could muster. My body lay cold on the stone slab in the heart of the Silverfang Pack’s den, surrounded by herbs, enchanted crystals, and somber faces. Despite their efforts, I could still feel every slice, every break, even in this limbo between life and death. The scattered body parts around me? Let’s just say it wasn’t the kind of reunion I imagined.

Cyrus, the Alpha’s second, loomed over my remains with a grim expression. He jabbed a clawed finger toward my torso. “The head’s missing. Hands, too. And looks like they took a chunk from the ankle.”

Elias, my husband, stood by in icy silence, his eyes dark with thoughts he wasn’t sharing. I knew that look all too well—the one where he locked everything inside, building walls even I couldn’t see past. He seemed detached, distant, barely sparing my body a second glance. And why should he? I wasn't the woman he married anymore, not in the ways that mattered.

My mind wandered over that coldness, the space that had grown between us, widening with every decision, every war council like this one. I watched him now, standing with that rigid posture of his, arms crossed like he was keeping his own heart from breaking through. Was he disgusted? With me? With the situation? The questions twisted in my gut, settling like stones, heavy and unavoidable.

Or was he hiding something deeper?

I hated that I didn’t know. I hated that I couldn’t tell what was going on behind those unreadable eyes anymore. Once, I would’ve known exactly what he was thinking just by the way his hand rested at his side, the way his jaw tightened or loosened when he was anxious or on edge. But now… Now, I couldn’t even be sure if he still saw me. Really saw me.

I shifted slightly, but he didn’t move, didn’t react. Was it possible he resented me? Blamed me for everything that had happened? Or maybe it was something worse. Maybe, in that stillness of his, he was hiding some growing distance in his heart, something neither of us wanted to admit was there. A quiet chasm that had slowly spread between us over time, creeping in with every unspoken word, every night spent apart.

It wasn’t just physical, though, was it? No. It was more than that. More than the way he barely touched me anymore, the way his fingers felt cold when they brushed mine. It was in his silence, his detachment. The way he’d started looking through me instead of at me.

Had I become something to be endured? Something to be tolerated?

I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat tightening. I didn’t want to think about that. Not now, not here. But it was hard to ignore the questions that gnawed at the back of my mind. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why didn’t he ask if I was alright? If I could handle this?

Or maybe… maybe he wasn’t asking because he already knew the answer.

Maybe he didn’t trust me anymore.

The thought sent a cold shiver down my spine. There was a time when Elias and I were partners, equals in every sense. When we didn’t need words to understand each other. When his silence wasn’t something that weighed between us, but a comfort. Now, though? Now it felt like a void. A vast, empty space where all the things we should be saying hung unsaid, heavy and thick in the air.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had broken between us, something vital. And I didn’t know how to fix it. Or if he even wanted to.

Finally, Elias spoke, his voice low. “So, who’s this poor soul?”

Cyrus shook his head, clearly frustrated. “We can’t tell. Not until the moonstone ritual reveals something. Or we get a missing pack member report. Whoever she is, she’s been erased.”

Elias nodded, his attention drifting elsewhere. He hadn’t really looked at me. Not yet. Maybe he was trying not to, but this mess? It had his claws all over it.

“I’ve been looking into the other attacks in the region,” he began, his voice cutting through the tension. “Seems like we’re dealing with something bigger than a rogue problem. This is organized. The same brutality’s been seen over in Bloodreach. Pack members being drained of their life force, dismembered, their remains left as warnings.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow, the flicker of a growl rumbling in his chest. “Bloodreach, huh? You think we’re dealing with pack politics? Like some kind of turf war?”

Elias gave a sharp nod. “That’s what it looks like. Someone’s sending a message, marking their territory.”

Without hesitation, Cyrus barked out orders. “Alright, get in touch with the Bloodreach pack. If they’ve got intel, we need it.”

After the meeting, a young omega practically bounced alongside Elias, full of admiration. “Mr. Blackwood, you’ve got instincts like no other. It’s like you’re always five steps ahead.”

Elias barely acknowledged him, giving a stiff nod. He’d been used to that kind of admiration since we were pups, back when his sharp instincts made him the pride of the pack.

“Uh, Mr. Blackwood, sir?” The omega suddenly stopped him, reaching out to pluck a long, golden hair from Elias’s leather jacket.

The omega smirked. “Is the kyradoing alright? Seems like she left a little something behind.”

Elias’s eyes flashed, his tone colder than the winter wind. “That’s none of your concern.” He snatched the hair, shoving it into his pocket before storming off.

The young omega awkwardly shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck as Elias disappeared down the stone corridors. If I could’ve, I would’ve patted him on the back for his nerve. But my hand, like everything else about me now, passed right through him.

If only he knew. That night I was killed, it wasn’t my hair Elias carried. Mine was short and dark—nothing like that golden strand. No, that belonged to Lena, his old flame and the one he’d chosen to warm his bed while I lay cold and forgotten.

I hadn’t been home for three days, and my mate hadn’t even tried to find me. The last time we fought about Lena, I took off to stay at my best friend Rayna’s den for a few nights. Elias probably assumed I was angry again and didn’t want to deal with the drama.

Then Lena called him. Her voice was soft, but there was a tremble in it that I knew was just for show. “Elias, there’s a storm rolling in tonight, and I’m terrified. Can you come stay with me?”

I saw Elias’s grip on his comm-stone tighten, then loosen. His voice was calm. “Lena, I’m mated. It’s not a good idea for me to come to your den.”

For a moment, I thought he might actually be showing some restraint. But then, with the same confident tone he always used, he added, “But you can come here. Kyra’s not home.”

Even Lena seemed taken aback. “Are you sure, Elias? What if she comes back? How would we explain it?”

I almost laughed. She knew exactly what she was doing, playing innocent like a frightened pup.

Elias brushed it off like it was nothing. “What is there to explain? This is my territory, and you’re my friend. I don’t have to justify it to her.”

He sounded so certain, so detached. “Besides,” he added, “she’s not coming back.”

Lena paused, her breath catching. Then, trying to sound casual, she asked, “How do you know?”

Realizing she might’ve overstepped, she quickly corrected herself. “I mean, did Kyra get mad at you again?”

Elias sighed, exasperated. “Yeah, it was on our anniversary. I told her I was going to see you, and she lost it.”

“It’s frustrating,” he continued. “Even though we’re just friends, she’s always suspicious! I chose her as my mate, but it’s never enough. You, though—you’ve been patient, always standing by. I should’ve apologized to you sooner.”

I nearly howled in disbelief. Who celebrates their ten-year anniversary with their former alpha, the one who should’ve been left behind after mating? And the night they celebrated was the same night I died.

So tell me, Elias—next year, will you mark your anniversary or my death?

Lena rushed over to our den, and the moment she saw Elias, she threw herself into his arms. “Elias, it’s so dark and wild out there. I was terrified!”

I rolled my eyes, unseen and unheard. Every night was dark in the forest, and I’d never seen her this scared of anything before.

Elias gave her a comforting embrace, patting her back softly. “Don’t worry, you’re safe now.”

He showed her the candles he had set up—long, white, emergency candles that filled the room with a warm, protective glow. “Even if the storm knocks the power out, we’ll have plenty of light,” he said, ever the problem-solver.

Lena leaned into him with a sigh. “You’re my hero, Elias.”

As the night deepened, Lena excused herself to freshen up. She slipped into the washroom, raiding my personal things like they were hers. She rummaged through my scented oils, mixing them carelessly, leaving the lids unscrewed and everything in disarray.

She smirked at her reflection. “Kyra won’t mind. She’s not coming back anyway.”

From the shadows, I watched her through the mirror, unseen but very much present. Outside, thunder cracked, and a flash of lightning lit up the room. In that moment, the air shimmered, and a dark, ghostly figure took shape on the floor.

Lena screamed and stumbled backward, calling out for Elias.

He burst through the door, pulling her into his arms like some kind of hero. She clung to him, shaking. “Elias, isn’t this dangerous? What if your mate... what if she’s still out there?”

Elias’s expression hardened, his voice cold and certain. “I don’t care.”

Lightning flashed again, casting a harsh glow across his face. “Even if she is, she’s got no claim over me. If it weren’t for her, you’d never have left. We would’ve been together from the start.”

He shrugged, his tone dismissive. “If she’s gone for good, that’s her problem, not mine.”

Ah, Elias. You really believe you don’t care, don’t you? I’ve seen that cold, distant expression of yours, the one you wear so well. You’ve always been so good at pretending. So good at keeping people at arm’s length, making them believe that nothing ever gets under your skin. I used to admire it—how effortlessly you could brush things off, how nothing ever seemed to ruffle your perfect, composed facade. But I wonder… is it all just an act? Are you really that indifferent, or have you just convinced yourself you are?

You think you’ve shut me out, that I’m just another fleeting thought, someone you can discard as easily as a passing breeze. But that’s the thing, isn’t it, Elias? People like you always underestimate just how deeply someone can burrow beneath the surface, how close they can get without you even realizing it. You think you’re untouchable, above it all, but I’ve been watching. I’ve been waiting. And soon, you’ll find out just how close I really am.

The funny thing is, I don’t need you to feel the way I feel. I don’t need you to admit anything, to acknowledge the truth. No, Elias, I don’t need your words. Because soon enough, you’ll feel it in your bones. You’ll sense me everywhere, in every shadow, in every whispered breeze that catches you off guard. I’m closer than you think. Closer than you’d ever admit to yourself.

And when that moment comes—when you finally realize that I’ve been there all along, right on the edge of your perfect little world—what will you do? Will you still pretend to feel nothing? Will you keep up that cold front, convincing yourself that you’re impervious, untouchable? Or will something crack in that carefully crafted armor of yours? I wonder, Elias. I truly do.

Because I know the truth. I know that indifference isn’t real. It’s a mask, a shield you’ve wrapped around yourself so tightly that you’ve started believing it’s your skin. But masks can slip. Shields can break. And when they do, when the truth finally claws its way to the surface, I’ll be there, watching. Waiting.