I frantically pushed Lucia aside, my Omega instincts making me shrink back slightly under her Gamma aura, but the urgency propelled me forward. I rushed into the kitchen, tearing open the lid of the pot. Inside, the boiling spiced honey cakes bobbed, and next to it, a small bowl still held a few half-eaten ones. My heart raced as I opened the bottom shelf of the fridge and counted them. Only a few remained.

I collapsed onto the floor, trembling with rage, my fingers clenched tightly, nails digging into my palms. Dean, the Beta of our pack, noticed something was off and instinctively moved to shield Lucia, his posture protective yet dismissive of me, an Omega. His broad frame loomed over me, and for a moment, I felt the weight of his rank pressing down on me.

"Jessica Martin, you can't be serious," Dean said, his voice tinged with the authority of a Beta. "We waited so long for you that we ate a couple of your spiced honey cakes. Is it really that big of a deal?"

My eyes burned with anger as I shouted at him, my voice rising, "Dean Simmons! These are the spiced honey cakes my mom made for me. She made them right before she passed away!"

My mom died in an accident. Barely an hour before the crash, she had made these cakes and left them in the fridge. They are the last piece of her I have left. I've always been hesitant to eat them, only allowing myself a few when I'm overwhelmed with missing her. But now, Lucia and Dean had managed to ruin almost half of them.

Dean appeared shaken, but he continued to stubbornly defend Lucia, his loyalty to her rank evident in his tone. "Lucia didn't mean any harm. She thought she was doing something nice for your birthday. How were we supposed to know you'd cherish those cakes so much..."

"Get out," I growled, my voice low and trembling. My wolf stirred within me, a rare flicker of defiance.

"Get out!" I repeated, louder this time, my voice echoing in the small kitchen.

"I don't want your fake efforts to celebrate my birthday. Just leave, all of you!"

In my fury, I grabbed whatever was nearby and hurled it at them with all my strength. Dean shielded Lucia, but a streak of red appeared on his forehead. He froze, gingerly touching the spot, his face pale with shock.

After a long silence, his expression dark, he bitterly spat out, "Jessica Martin, you're out of your mind."

With a slam of the door, he was gone.

I sat amidst the wreckage, clutching the few precious spiced honey cakes my mom had left me, sobbing uncontrollably. My wolf whimpered softly in the back of my mind, a rare moment of shared pain. The bond between Dean and me, once so strong, now felt like a frayed thread, barely holding together. I could feel it, the pull of his rank, his authority, but I refused to let it dictate my emotions any longer.

The kitchen was silent now, save for my quiet sobs. I stared at the mess, the remnants of my mother's last gift to me scattered across the floor. The pack hierarchy, the ranks, the expectations—it all felt like a suffocating weight. But in that moment, as I held the few remaining cakes close, I felt a strange sense of resolve. I was an Omega, yes, but I was also Jessica Martin, and I wouldn’t let anyone—not even a Beta—take away what little I had left.

Exhausted from crying, I lay down on the bed and drifted into a deep sleep, my body still aching from the emotional turmoil of the day. The scent of pine and snow lingered faintly in the air, a reminder of the cold winter outside the pack’s territory.

Late at night, Dean returned.

I quickly shut my eyes, feigning sleep, though my heart pounded in my chest. His footsteps echoed softly against the wooden floor, each one bringing him closer until he stopped in front of me. In the darkness, I felt his gaze heavy upon me, the weight of it almost tangible. There was a long silence, but no apology came—just a low, deep sigh that carried more regret than words ever could. Eventually, he left the bedroom, his presence fading as he moved into the living room.

The sound of his voice carried faintly through the walls, soft but unmistakable.

“Leaving on New Year’s Day? Not sticking around a bit longer?”

My chest tightened as I recognized the name he said next. “Lucia, don’t blame yourself. I know today wasn’t your fault. No need to rush off.”

A bitter taste filled my mouth, and I clenched my fists beneath the blanket. The bond between us, once so strong, now felt like a frayed thread, barely holding together.

“I’ll go with you to the theme park on New Year’s Eve,” Dean continued, his voice softer now, almost tender. “You’ve always wanted to see the fireworks, right?”

I closed my eyes tighter, trying to block out his words, but they seeped through anyway. “No worries, I’m free. Don’t stress about Jessica; we can visit her after the holidays. I’ll talk to her, and she’ll understand.”

A wave of indescribable bitterness welled up from my chest, rising to my throat. I turned my head toward the window, watching the snowflakes fall in silence, each one a reminder of the cold distance between us. Something inside me felt buried, frozen beneath the weight of his neglect.

I spent the night wide awake, my mind replaying every moment of the six years we’d spent together. Never had I been so clear-headed, so aware that this long, pointless journey had reached its end.

When I woke up the next morning, the apartment was as empty as ever. The scent of Dean’s wolf, once comforting, now felt suffocating. I packed a few belongings, my hands moving mechanically as I folded clothes and gathered essentials. Booking the next available flight was a relief, a step toward reclaiming my life.

Disappointment is like a coin. This time, I finally had enough for a ticket out.

When I stepped outside, the snow had stopped. The sky was clear and sunny, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside me. I wrapped my coat tighter around myself, the cold air biting at my skin, and picked up my suitcase. The path to the airport felt like a journey toward freedom, away from the suffocating hierarchy of the pack and the shadow of Dean’s indifference.

Before boarding, I opened my messaging app to Dean’s chat. My finger hovered over the screen for a moment, then I typed out a final message.

“I’m going home for Christmas. You don’t need to come this year.”

To my surprise, Dean, who usually left my messages unread, replied almost instantly.

“???”

I stared at the screen, the two question marks mocking me. But I didn’t respond. Instead, I turned off my phone and boarded the plane, leaving behind the life that had never truly belonged to me.

The announcement for boarding echoed through the loudspeaker. I turned off my phone, unwilling to engage with Dean further. Two hours later, the plane touched down. I had returned to the Silver Moon Pack’s territory, the place where I’d been born and raised. Although it lacked the bustling energy of the Crimson Fang Pack in London, the familiar scent of pine and the sight of the pack’s stone lodges filled me with a profound sense of calm.

Standing at the doorway with my suitcase, my father hesitated as if caught in a time warp. His broad shoulders, though slightly stooped with age, still carried the quiet strength of a respected elder. "Dad, I’m home. I came back by myself." He pressed his lips together, remaining silent for what felt like ages. His amber eyes, so much like mine, were full of understanding as he gently patted my back. "It’s okay, you’re home now. We can still have a good holiday together."

Tears brimmed in my eyes as I nodded. I retreated to my childhood bedroom and sank into the bed, exhaling deeply. The room still smelled faintly of lavender, a scent that had always soothed me. Almost instinctively, I reached for my phone and switched it on. Instantly, Dean’s messages poured in.

"Jessica, what’s going on?"

"You insisted on me joining you for Thanksgiving, and now you suddenly don’t want to go?"

"I’ve told you countless times, there’s nothing between me and Lucia. If there was, where would that leave you?!"

"...Ignoring my calls now?"

"Alright, you said you didn’t want me to come over; don’t regret it."

After that, there were no more messages from him. I glanced at Dean’s words, "If there was, where would that leave you?!" and couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly. The only reason I had agreed to be Dean’s mate back then was because Lucia, the elegant and high-ranking Gamma, had rejected him first, leaving me to pick up the pieces. But now, if I had the chance to do it all over again, I’d rather have never crossed paths with him.

I remembered the day Dean had officially asked me to be his mate. We were standing in the Silver Moon Pack’s grand hall, the air thick with the scent of pine and the murmurs of pack members. He had taken my hand and spoken the formal vow, his voice steady and sure: "I, Dean Simmons, Beta of the Silver Moon Pack, claim you, Jessica Martin, as my mate. By the will of the Moon Goddess, our bond is sealed."

Back then, I had believed him. But over time, his attention had drifted, always toward Lucia, her presence like a shadow over our bond. The memory of their closeness, the way Dean’s eyes lingered on her during pack meetings, still stung. And now, after everything, he still couldn’t see how much he had hurt me.

I set my phone aside and stared at the ceiling, the quiet of the room a stark contrast to the noise in my mind. My wolf stirred faintly in the back of my consciousness, a soft whimper of pain and resignation. I ignored it, focusing instead on the sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside. Here, in the Silver Moon Pack, I was just an Omega, a quiet and overlooked presence. But at least here, I knew where I belonged. And for now, that was enough.