The moon hung high in the sky, bathing the Silverclaw territory in a pale glow. Dylan leaned against the couch, exhausted from a day of cleaning. His phone felt cold in his hand as he idly scrolled through his social media feed, the empty packhouse around him echoing the hollowness in his chest.

A midnight photo caught his eye. A sprawling sky filled with stars, a lone girl’s silhouette holding a box of strawberry tarts in the corner of the frame. The post was from him—Oliver. Dylan’s thumb hovered over the screen, his jaw tightening as the realization struck him again.

He had been stalking Oliver’s account weeks ago, following his posts, his life, his interests. It wasn’t for curiosity's sake anymore; it was confirmation. The specific scent of cologne Lily always insisted he wear, the pens she bought for his minimal duties in the pack, and her obsession with strawberry tarts—all of it mirrored Oliver’s preferences.

“Was I ever more than just a replacement?” Dylan muttered bitterly, tossing the phone onto the couch. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his eyes clouded with memories.

For a moment, the anger surged, but it fizzled just as quickly, replaced by a numb acceptance. He had asked himself this question too many times. The answer never changed.

It was nearing midnight when Lily returned home, her long black coat swishing behind her. She didn’t have the strawberry tarts she’d promised, not that Dylan expected her to. She stepped inside, her sharp amber eyes scanning the room.

“Something feels… off. Did you move something?” she asked, tilting her head.

“I cleared out some unused items today,” Dylan replied, his tone casual.

Lily raised a brow but didn’t press further. “Hmm. Makes sense.” She shrugged, unbuttoning her sleeves and rolling them up.

Dylan watched the female Alpha from the corner of his eye, noting her ease, her complete disinterest in his words. If she cared, she would’ve noticed the missing vases they once bought together or the carefully packed boxes lining the closet. But Lily’s thoughts were elsewhere, as always.

“Where can I get a custom wolf wood carving?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Dylan blinked, caught off guard. “Wolf carving?”

“Yeah,” she replied, pulling out her phone and scrolling through a photo. Of course, that photo was familiar.

Dylan’s sighed heavily, but he masked it with a faint smile. “I can carve one for you.”

“You?” She paused, as if realizing the oddity of the request. For a moment, something like guilt flickered across her face. Perhaps because she was asking her fated mate to do something that was meant for another man. But it was gone in an instant. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

Dylan nodded, keeping his voice steady. “I’ll make it perfect.”

Late into the night, Dylan stayed at the small workbench in the corner of the packhouse, the rhythmic scraping of the carving knife filling the silence. He poured everything into the wooden wolf, tracing its sharp lines and delicate details with precision.

As he worked, his thoughts churned. Memories of the past two years played like a broken record. The knowing glances from other pack members, their cruel words whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“I don’t know what she sees in him, I know that mateship is sacred, but having a weak man as our she-Alpha's mate is a bit...” one had sneered at a recent gathering.

“A nobody? Not even a power Alpha or a Beta? She deserves someone like Beta Oliver instead.”

“Maybe she just pities him. Poor guy doesn’t have the spine to stand up to her.”

Their words had cut deep, but Dylan had endured them for Lily’s sake. Now he realized that even if the pack didn’t want him, neither did she.

By the time dawn broke, the carving was finished. Dylan ran his fingers over the smooth surface, his hands trembling. “There. It’s done,” he whispered, exhaustion weighing down his voice.

When Lily came out of her room, he handed it to her. She took the piece, her eyes scanning it with a rare glint of appreciation. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Dylan gave her a tired smile. “No need to thank me. As long as you’re happy…” His voice trailed off, but she was already walking away.

The days that followed were quiet. Lily was rarely home, spending her time with Oliver now that he was back from university abroad.

He overheard whispers from the pack as he walked through the territory.

“I heard Beta Oliver’s back days ago. Maybe Alpha Lily will finally have a real partner. Or even better, she'll marry him instead of that weak mate of hers.”

“That damn Dylan doesn’t belong here. She deserves someone strong.”

Their voices cut like knives, but Dylan kept his head down. He was used to it. Instead, he quietly packed his belongings, leaving the packhouse emptier each day.

One evening, his phone buzzed unexpectedly. The voice on the other end was hurried. “Dylan? It’s Ethan. Alpha Lily’s drunk. Can you come pick her up?”

“Drunk?” Dylan’s brows furrowed. Lily never drank to the point of being tipsy or worse, drunk.

Without hesitation, he shifted into his wolf form, his lean black figure racing through the forest toward the location Ethan had given him. The scent of alcohol and unfamiliar wolves reached him as he approached the private room.

The door was slightly ajar, and Dylan’s sharp hearing picked up faint murmurs.

“Lily, you’ve had too much,” a man’s voice said softly, laced with concern.

Dylan’s silently pushed the door open. Inside, he saw Lily leaning against Oliver, her amber eyes half-lidded as she whispered something only he could hear. Oliver’s arm was wrapped protectively around her waist, his expression a mix of worry and tenderness.

They looked like they belonged together.

Dylan pushed open the door to the private room, his eyes instantly landing on Lily. She was drunk, leaning into Beta Oliver’s arms. The sight of them together stung, but Dylan’s face betrayed nothing—he had mastered the art of composure over the years. His gaze shifted from the sight of his mate, disoriented and vulnerable, to the Beta holding her.

“Hello,” Dylan said calmly, extending his hand to Oliver, his voice unwavering. “I’m Lily’s mate, Dylan.”

Oliver looked up, his expression tight with an awkward smile. He quickly straightened Lily, who was barely conscious, trying to rouse her from her stupor. “Lily, your mate is here. Wake up.”

The tipsy woman blinked a few times, confusion clouding her hazel eyes. Then, with a drunken slur, she mumbled, “You’re the real mate,” and leaned further into Oliver’s chest.

The room fell silent.

Dylan stood tall, his heart heavy, but he refused to show any hint of pain. He didn’t let the words strike at him. Instead, he reached into his bag and retrieved a small bottle of hangover pills. He held them out to Oliver. “She needs to take these.”

Oliver eyed Dylan for a moment, his grip on Lily loosening as he passed the bottle to her. Lily, still disoriented, took the pills with a faint murmur of thanks, and within moments, her face began to regain its color. The room waited, tension hanging thick.

Lily blinked again, her eyes slowly clearing. She pulled away from Oliver’s comforting embrace, standing unsteadily. “I mistook him for someone else…” she said quickly, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. She glanced at Dylan, clearly flustered, as if trying to explain away her actions.

Dylan smiled softly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I know,” he said simply. “Let’s go home.”

But as they turned toward the exit, a group of Lily’s friends, a mix of Lunas, Alphas, and powerful wolves, blocked their path, their laughter filling the room. Most of them were friends of Oliver, and they insisted Lily stay.

“You’ve been so busy lately, Lily. You never spend time with us!” one of them called out, a Luna with platinum blonde hair.

Another Alpha, his arms crossed, grinned mischievously. “Let’s have a game! Come on, stay and play. It’ll be fun!”

Dylan’s gaze hardened as he looked at the group, but he remained silent. He knew these wolves were just looking for trouble.

“You should play Russian Roulette,” suggested one of the Alphas, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “The loser has to reveal a secret.”

Lily hesitated, but her friends pressed on, urging her to join. “It’ll be lighthearted, we promise. Just show us what’s inside your phone album, Lily.”

The room erupted in enthusiastic shouts.

Lily’s expression faltered. She didn’t want to play, but the pressure from her friends was palpable. Her eyes flicked to Dylan for reassurance, but he remained impassive, watching the scene unfold with quiet resignation.

Without waiting for a response, a few of Lily’s friends grabbed her phone when she wasn’t paying attention and opened the gallery. Their laughter faltered when they saw the pinned album titled “Oliver.”

The room grew deathly quiet. The photos of Beta Oliver were all there—images from his time studying abroad, along with screenshots of their video calls. It was clear, even to the most unobservant, that something more than just friendship had existed between them.

Lily’s heart sank. She reached out quickly to grab her phone back, standing up abruptly. “You all keep playing,” she said in a strained voice. “I’m going to the restroom.”

Without another word, she left the room, her footsteps echoing in the silence that followed her.

Dylan didn’t move at first. He stayed in the room, the bitter taste of betrayal lingering in his mouth. He wanted to leave. To leave her. But something held him there, an invisible thread of connection that bound him to his fated mate, no matter the pain.

A few minutes passed, and Dylan made a decision. He followed her.

As he reached the hallway, he heard voices coming from just outside the restroom. Lily’s voice was low, barely above a whisper, but it carried with the weight of a hidden truth.

“Everyone knows you’ve liked Beta Oliver for years but can’t admit it,” a Luna’s voice said. “I was just helping you get closure. Your mate deserves to know the truth too. Once the truth is out, he’ll back off.”

Lily’s response was sharp, filled with frustration. “My affairs are none of your business. Don’t meddle in my life again.”

Dylan leaned against the wall, his heart tightening at the words, but he did his best to remain composed. Deep inside, he knew the truth. But hearing it out loud, in the cold harshness of the words, made it all the more painful.

He chuckled softly, a sound devoid of humor, before turning to enter the men’s restroom. Once inside, he splashed cold water on his face, the icy shock jolting him into clarity. He needed to regain control—he couldn’t lose his temper now.

Grabbing his phone, he quickly typed out a message to Lily. “Let’s go. I’m waiting outside.”

Minutes later, Lily appeared in the hallway, her bag slung over her shoulder. She appeared calmer, though the slight tremor in her hands betrayed her true emotions.

As they reached the entrance, Dylan’s phone rang. It was his Luna mother, and he answered it without hesitation, his voice flat and emotionless as he replied to her concerns about an unrelated matter.

"Yeah, I'm ready to leave anytime soon."

When the call ended, Lily looked up at him, a question in her eyes. “Leave? Where are you going?”