In the glittering world of the Silver Moon Pack, they mockingly call me the "Alpha’s Healer," an Omega who just can’t seem to secure her place as a Beta’s mate. The rumor mill loves to crack jokes about how I’ve been stood up at the mate ceremony 66 times by Matheo Vasquez, the Beta of the pack.
The first time he bailed, Matheo claimed he had to oversee the training session of Jazmine Gomez, a rising Delta warrior. The next time, he couldn’t miss her sparring match—supporting her was more important than our mate bond.
By the sixty-fifth time, Jazmine had forgotten her ceremonial dagger, and Matheo dashed off to retrieve it for her, leaving me waiting at the ceremony grounds once more.
After the sixty-sixth letdown, I posted on the pack’s communal board: “No mate bond yet again. Time to celebrate my independence from Matheo.” Then I switched off my communication crystal and dove into the tranquility of the Crimson Fang Pack’s healing chambers.
I had spent three years sharing a luxurious lodge with Matheo, yet we never made it official. Today was supposed to be a celebration for the pack’s successful defense against a rogue attack. I’d been on a grueling two-week shift tending to the injured, leaving me exhausted in every sense. Despite my fatigue, I was still tasked with managing the pack’s healing supplies. Matheo didn’t lift a finger to help—too busy enjoying tea with Jazmine, who had only fought in the skirmish for a mere 30 seconds.
The pack was eagerly waiting for a scandal to unfold. The deal was that once the pack stabilized, Matheo and I would finally complete our mate bond. But, yet again, he came up with a last-minute excuse.
“Jazmine’s promotion ceremony is coming up,” he explained. “She’s anxious about it, and I need to be there for her. Anyway, you’ve been patient for three years; another day won’t hurt.”
With that, he escorted Jazmine to her private quarters. Her eyes sparkled with victory as she said, “Sorry, Cecilia, Matheo just tends to overreact.”
In the past, I would have snapped and confronted Matheo on the spot, demanding, “Who’s really under more strain here, me or Jazmine? Who’s keeping this pack alive? Who is your true partner?” But I dreaded the pack’s gossip and the whirlwind of rumors using my name as fodder.
So I kept my cool. “No worries, enjoy yourselves. Don’t forget to be careful,” I replied. Matheo shot me a surprised look before retreating behind his usual icy demeanor, saying, “You’re so understanding; you deserve something nice.”
They hadn’t left the room before an obnoxious Gamma tried to pressure Jazmine into sparring with him. Annoyed, Matheo not only shielded her but also had the Gamma removed from the training grounds, regardless of his rank.
When I first joined the pack, Matheo put rank above everything. At pack gatherings or formal ceremonies, I was left to fend for myself. Even when I was doubled over with cramps so severe I could barely stand, he insisted I attend to the wounded, making me down a vial of potent healing tonic. He once told me, “To succeed in this pack, sacrifices must be made.” Those sacrifices seemed to hinge solely on his mood.
Tonight, I overexerted myself and ended up collapsing in the healing chambers. Weak and shaky, I called up Edwin Gordon, the Alpha of the Crimson Fang Pack. “You mentioned a new healing technique you’re working on. I want to learn it,” I said, my voice quivering.
On the other end, Edwin sounded taken aback. “Cecilia Castillo, you’re finally in? But it’s a secluded project, five years cut off from the world. Is Matheo cool with this?”
I laughed, “What mate? We’re not even bonded!”
Edwin didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Alright, come by tomorrow to sign the agreement. We need you for this big project.”
By the time I finished reviewing Edwin’s notes, it was late. Matheo still hadn’t come home. My communication crystal buzzed with a message from Jazmine. In it, Matheo gritted his teeth as a ceremonial blade etched their matching runes, complete with each other’s initials, onto their forearms.
I remembered that Matheo had always been terrified of pain, scared of getting scars. Jazmine giggled as she said, “Thank you, Matheo, for enduring the pain for love. Happy three-year anniversary!”
I suddenly remembered the first time I met Jazmine Gomez—it was during what should have been my mate ceremony with Matheo Vasquez. Today marked what should have been our third year as mates, but meeting Jazmine seemed to mean more to Matheo than our bond ever did.
I glanced down at the faint scar on my neck where Matheo had attempted to mark me. The mark had never fully formed, a constant reminder of his hesitation. Without hesitation, I scheduled an appointment with the pack healer to have the remnants of it removed.
Three days later, Matheo finally returned to the pack house. His lips were slightly swollen, carrying the sour scent of Jazmine’s favorite dish—a pungent noodle soup. Previously, Matheo would rather go hungry than eat anything cheap or smelly—he was even allergic to crab. But with Jazmine, he’d make exceptions. She clearly held a special place in his heart.
Noticing my cold demeanor, Matheo attempted to explain, “I’ve been helping Jazmine with her training these past few days. I didn’t have time to get you a gift. Pick something you like, and I’ll take care of it.”
He then took off his shirt, revealing a fresh, red heart-shaped mark on his side. I stared at it, unfazed. He seemed guilty at first, then quickly snapped, “It’s just a fun thing Jazmine and I did. Are you really still upset about something so trivial? You’re too petty!”
I sighed deeply and said, “Matheo, we need to talk.”
I wanted to discuss my decision to leave the Silver Moon Pack, but a mind link from Jazmine interrupted us. Her voice was tearful and frail in my head. “Beta Matheo, the mark on my side is sore. Could you please come and apply some ointment for me?”
Matheo’s face softened with concern. Without a glance at me, he turned to leave. As he brushed past, his leg bumped my ankle, still tender from the healer’s work. I winced, but he showed no sign of noticing.
He had insisted on marking me when I first joined the pack as a healer, worried my presence might attract unwanted attention from other wolves. It was his claim—a warning for others to steer clear. He had promised, “You are my one and only mate,” and I had believed him.
But after Jazmine arrived, Matheo not only endured the pain to get matching marks with her but also forgot all the promises he made to me. Clutching my healing ankle, I felt relief at having the remnants of his mark removed.
I went to the pack hall to discuss leaving the Silver Moon Pack. My mentor, Beta Quinn Howell, frowned. “Cecilia, 80% of the pack’s healing resources come from your skills. Are you really sure about leaving?” He pushed a scroll toward me. “This is the pack’s latest alliance proposal. They’re counting on you to lead…”
Everyone knew my work was vital to the pack, and they all tried to persuade me to stay. But I was resolute and shook my head firmly.
Quinn sighed, “Does Matheo know you’re planning to leave?”
“He’s too focused on promoting Jazmine to care whether I stay,” I replied, continuing to fill out the paperwork as silence enveloped the room.
Jazmine’s arrogant voice interrupted the silence, “Matheo, it’s your fault for being so rough last night. My back aches and my legs are sore!” She waltzed over with a cup of coffee, deliberately flaunting her mark to taunt me. “Cecilia, I need to train at the beach today. Matheo says the sea breeze is strong and insists I wear a long-sleeved shirt and pants. But how can I show off my strength as a Delta warrior?”
Her eyes were full of provocation.
I offered no reply.
Matheo followed behind, not sparing me a glance. He gently soothed Jazmine, “The wind at the beach is strong. You’ll catch a cold dressed like that. Plus, with your aches and pains, we should just go home and rest. No need to push yourself.”
“Just put on the jacket,” he said, helping her into it and buttoning it up for her, one button at a time.
Quinn looked at me sympathetically.
Matheo seemed to have forgotten how, in the dead of winter, I braved freezing waters to heal a wounded pack member while enduring my own pain. That night, I developed a high fever, burning for three days straight. Back then, Matheo was caring and attentive, always looking out for me.
But somewhere along the line, he changed. Whenever I wasn’t feeling well, he became impatient and scolded me, “You can’t be this fragile and be a healer. You’re vital to the pack; stop being dramatic and deal with it.”
By chance, Matheo noticed the form I was filling out: “Leaving the pack?...”
