For five years, I served as the chief bloodline genealogist for my fated mate, Alpha Travis Valerius of the Scarlet Sun Syndicate. And for the fifth year, he gave the credit for an alliance I had secured to someone else.

As always, a wave of calm washed over me through our powerful mate bond—his attempt to soothe me. "This is for the future of the entire pack, Aveline. Just wait a little longer. Wait until we've consolidated all the ancient packs, until our syndicate is the most powerful on the East Coast. I promise, you will be the only Luna standing by my side."

At twenty-one, I was a fool, willing to offer up my loyalty and my suppressed inner wolf for the future of what he called "us." Now, at twenty-eight, years of toiling in the shadows and endless compromises had eroded the last scraps of love and patience I had for him.

I packed up my research lab, surrendered my ambition of becoming a legend in the syndicate, and finally, I walked away.

Travis, I'm done waiting.

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1

At the Scarlet Sun Syndicate's victory celebration on the East Coast of North America, city lights glittered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Inside, the air crackled with palpable energy. The East Coast’s most elite wolves moved through the room, their tailored suits and sharp gazes a thin veneer over the predators lurking within.

Travis stood in the spotlight. A natural-born Alpha, his golden eyes had once captivated me, just as they had compelled countless other she-wolves to submit. He scanned the room and announced that Corinne, the daughter of the Sterling Ridge pack's Alpha, would serve as the chairwoman of the newly formed high council.

I gripped my martini glass so tightly my knuckles turned white. A moment later, the crowd rose to their feet in a thunderous ovation.

I had been researching bloodlines for him for five years. It was the year our unspoken agreement—five years of my service in exchange for the Luna title—was set to expire.

My fated mate, the leader of this syndicate, had just given the position he had personally promised me to another woman. In a single moment, he had installed her on a throne of power, shoving me off an invisible cliff.

Corinne, dressed in a blood-red haute couture gown, descended gracefully from the stage. The crisp click of her high heels on the polished marble announced her arrival as she headed straight for me.

"Oh my god, Aveline, I am so, so sorry," she said, her bright blue eyes wide with a practiced innocence that proved her talent for political theater far surpassed her understanding of bloodline pacts.

"I never thought I'd get this seat," she said with a dramatic sigh.

Then, Travis strode over, one hand casually tucked into his suit pocket. He declared proudly, "Victors don't need to apologize, Corinne."

He paused, his gaze sweeping past me without a second glance.

"Aveline, she's not familiar with the ancient pacts. You'll need to show her the ropes. You know how important this merger is to the pack. We'll find another opportunity for you."

The two of them stood before me, a perfect power couple.

Travis's arm hovered protectively behind Corinne, whose smile was dazzling. Their scents—his potent musk and her cloying perfume—intertwined, heralding a new power dynamic.

I stared into Travis's eyes, searching for any flicker of guilt or remorse in their golden depths. I found nothing.

He had completely forgotten what happened that winter five years ago, when his syndicate was on the verge of collapse and desperate to absorb a new pack. For him, I had given up my right to inherit the leadership of my own family's pack, bringing all my loyalty and talent to serve under him.

If I helped him make the Scarlet Sun Syndicate the most powerful alliance in North America within five years, he promised I would be his one and only Luna, with power equal to his own. Otherwise, I would forever be just a tool in his shadow.

Driven by that promise, I deciphered one forbidden bloodline archive after another for him, facilitating one thorny pack merger after another.

I had gambled everything on it. And at the final moment of our final year, Travis had shattered all my hopes with a single appointment.

I realized this wasn't a fairytale, and there would be no happy ending for me. I couldn't give the Scarlet Sun Syndicate another five years. And my grandmother, far away on the Northwest Coast of North America, was growing old, her time running out.

There won't be a next time, Travis.

Camera flashes exploded in our direction. I took a step back, forcing the most elegant smile I could manage.

"Congratulations to you both." I paused, letting the silence hang in the air, then finished with pointed sarcasm, "Your union is truly a blessing for all our packs."

My sarcasm hit its mark; a layer of frost formed at the edge of Travis's smile.

I could almost hear his dismissive thoughts bleeding through our mind-link. Too emotional. Impulsive. She has ambition, sure, but none of the submission a Luna needs. Did she really think she could be my equal in just five years? This pack isn't a charity. The thoughts softened slightly. Still… I'll make it up to her. Next time. I'll find her a more important position, as long as she earns it.

With that thought, he tried to placate me. "Aveline, the follow-up private meeting for core members is in the penthouse club. I need you there."

"No, thank you," I refused politely. "I'm heading home to rest."

Travis frowned. I wasn't the type to refuse an opportunity to consolidate power; it was a crucial part of survival in the pack. However, before he could press further, Corinne was already looping her arm through his.

In the meantime, I had called a car. As it pulled away from the curb, I stared out at the glittering East Coast nightscape, but the twinkling city lights seemed sharp and cold.

Before I even got home, my phone was already blowing up with notifications from the pack's internal network. The trending topic was "Travis & Corinne: A New Era's Power Couple." Every word burned me like a brand.

Travis had an ancient bloodline tracing project that had been in the works for three years, and now he had unhesitatingly appointed Corinne as its head. If I had been at that private meeting, I bet my expression would have twisted into a look no Luna should ever wear.

When the screen went dark, my own reflection stared back at me—tired, pale, and utterly defeated.

The moment I closed the app, a thought from Travis sliced through the mind-link, cold as ice.

Don't wait up for me. I'll be late.

I didn't respond, simply swiped the thought away in my mind. The dim blue light illuminated my face as I fell into a spiral of his excuses.

She's a diamond in the rough, I could practically hear him projecting through the bond. I need to cultivate her personally. This is for the stability of the alliance, Aveline. When will you grow up?

At first, it was, "Who is she?"

Gradually, it became, "Why her?"

In the end, there was only silence.

As I read Corinne's detailed profile on the screen, I realized he hadn't even noticed that I hadn't responded to him through our mind-link in months.

All that remained were the cold, one-sided notifications—the final, damning proof of his neglect.

The breaking point had come three months ago. It all came down to a matter of priorities.

That day in the garden, Corinne had brushed her hand against a faintly cursed vine. At the same time, Travis had sent me to a territorial negotiation with a rogue werewolf leader. The meeting went south, and his silver-dipped dagger sliced my arm to the bone, a dark curse spreading from the wound. Even in the same city, our fates stood in stark contrast.

Travis's only concern for me was a cold command sent through our mind-link: "Handle it yourself."

Meanwhile, he interrupted an important international conference to personally summon the pack's best healer for Corinne's trivial scratch. He even made a dramatic post in the elders' group chat: "Urgent! What can purify a faint curse from a vine?"

From the photo he sent, I could see Corinne sitting on the sofa in his office, looking deceptively fragile and charming. And I was alone in the syndicate's infirmary, the acrid smell of antiseptic filling my lungs.

I watched as Travis joked with the elders in the group chat, ignoring the distress signals I sent through our mind-link, pained by the silver poison. His indifference stung more than the wound on my arm.

After a sleepless night, I went to his office, my arm wrapped in thick bandages. I found him staring at Corinne's political stunt on his screen, his brow furrowed as if it were a thousand times more important than my life or death.

"Hold on, Aveline," he said, not even bothering to turn around. "There's a logical flaw here."

I stood outside the glass door, watching him coach Corinne for a full two hours. In that time, I finally understood: even her shoddy political performance was more important to him than I was.

On the glass door, the "North American Alpha of the Year" award he had won last year still hung.

Halfway through, his Beta approached me and whispered, "Aveline, the Alpha is still meeting with Miss Corinne. It'll likely be at least another two hours."

He watched my reaction, then continued softly, "Maybe you could come back later?"

I shook my head stubbornly. "I'll wait for him."

His Beta's face tightened with concern.

"You might disturb them by staying here."

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my wound, and the silver's toxicity made me go weak. His Beta caught me just in time.

The commotion finally caught Travis's attention. He glanced in my direction, his eyes filled with the annoyance of being interrupted.

"Please remove any non-essential personnel from the area," he commanded with his Alpha authority, dismissing me like an impertinent subordinate.

Then, his gaze lingered on my pale face for a moment. His lips seemed to tremble slightly, as if he wanted to ask if I was okay.

"Travis, this market projection model..."

Corinne's soft voice pulled his attention back to the screen. The flicker of concern in his eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

The message was clear. Stop making a scene, be professional, and get out before he had to publicly humiliate me. Once he was done, perhaps he would generously send me a copy of his and Corinne's meeting minutes as "compensation."

The central air conditioning hummed with a monotonous drone. Only a glass wall separated us. He was the one with the power to control the temperature, while I shivered in a suffocating mix of July humidity and icy air conditioning.

I wrapped my coat tighter, hiding the silver wound that was leaking a dark, cursed energy, and turned toward the elevator.

Five years ago, we had sworn to make the name of the Scarlet Sun Syndicate echo throughout North America.

Now, I had to accept the painful truth—the man who'd once stood by my side was a ghost.