I bent down to pick one up.

Before I could even straighten, he reached out and took it from my hands.

"Fine, I'll throw them out for you," he said, almost impatiently. "But stop wasting moon-credits on useless things. What, do you think they grow on the trees?"

His tone was casual.

Indifferent.

Like none of this mattered.

Then, as if nothing had happened at all, he added, "Go change. I'll take you out to eat."

Like this was just another normal day.

Like nothing was ending.

Instead, I walked out to the balcony.

From there, I watched him.

He carried the boxes down and walked straight to the refuse pit behind the den, past the black obsidian carriage idling at the edge of the grounds where one of his sentinels sat waiting, engine low and growling.

No hesitation.

No second glance.

He tossed them in.

Just like that.

The same way he had thrown away our five years.

Effortlessly.

Like they meant nothing at all.

At the trading-post, a quiet place on neutral ground where the pack sometimes kept private tables, he ordered several dishes without asking.

Most of them were our usual favorites.

The kind we always shared.

The kind tied to memories. Late-night laughter, long runs under a low moon, lazy days where time seemed to slow and the world outside, with all its blood and obligation, couldn't reach us.

For a moment, it almost felt familiar.

Almost.

But then I saw it.

One more dish.

Bitter melon with scrambled eggs.

The one I hated the most.

He knew that.

He had always remembered.

Every little thing.

Until now.

My appetite disappeared completely, like something inside me had quietly snapped. The scent of the food, the low murmur from nearby tables, even the old hunting-song drifting from the den's far corner all felt distant. Somewhere beneath my ribs my wolf went still, the way she did when she could no longer make sense of him. I didn't feel like forcing myself anymore, didn't feel like pretending everything was normal.

"Excuse me," I called gently to the omega aide standing nearby, keeping my tone polite and controlled. "Could you take this dish off the table? I'll pay for it separately."

The aide hesitated for a second, clearly unsure, but before he could even reach for the plate, Salveth moved first. He dragged the dish back toward himself with a faint scoff, the obsidian-and-cold-ash of his scent sharpening with annoyance.

"Oh, come on," he said. "I miss a few days while you're in the Healing Hall and suddenly you're acting like a drama queen?" He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Maybe if you were actually paying attention to where you were going, you wouldn't have gotten run down in the first place."

The words landed harder than they should have.

Because I knew what it looked like when he cared.

I had seen it before.

There had been a time when fever took me in the dead of winter. He had panicked, lifted me onto his back, and carried me through freezing wind all the way to a moon-healer he trusted, his hands trembling, his voice breaking as he kept asking if I was still with him. I still remembered the way he cried that night, like losing me would destroy him. Back then he wasn't the Alpha yet. Back then his hands still shook for reasons that had nothing to do with blood.

And now?

Now he had been part of the thing that hurt me… and didn't even bother to come.

He knew I hated bitter melon. For five years, he had never once ordered it, never once brought anything remotely bitter to our table. He used to say even the smell made me frown too much.

And yet now, like we had gone back in time to when we had just met, like none of those years had ever existed, he casually ordered it again without a second thought.

I curled my lips into a faint, tired smile, the kind that didn't quite reach my eyes.

"I really hate bitter melon," I said softly. "I can't even stand the smell."

"Then don't eat it," he replied immediately, his tone sharp and impatient. "Simple."

The irritation in his voice wasn't even hidden. The silver lighter appeared in his hand, turning slow across his knuckles, each rotation catching the low light like a small, indifferent blade.

But I kept my expression calm, polite, like I had trained myself to be over the years.

"I think… we should—"

I didn't get to finish.

A woman's voice cut in smoothly from the side.

"Salveth, after all these years, you still remember I love bitter melon!"

I lifted my gaze.

She stood right beside our table, perfectly put together from head to toe. Flawless. Impeccable. Her posture straight, chin slightly lifted as she looked down at me with a faint, unmistakable trace of disdain. Jasmine and cold copper rolled off her in a wave, one finger resting on the pearl at her throat, light as a breath, as if confirming something only she needed to know.

Without waiting for any invitation, she stepped closer.

With an easy familiarity, she nudged Salveth slightly inward along the booth, then slipped into the seat right next to him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. The two sentinels at the bar didn't turn, but I could feel the room's attention tighten, the way it always did when the Alpha's table changed shape.

"Let me introduce myself," she said sweetly, her voice smooth like syrup. "I'm Salveth's girlfriend. Aurelia Caldris."

I didn't respond.

She leaned in even closer to him, her arm grazing his as if it were the most natural thing in the world, then slid a glance sideways at me, subtle, almost playful.

"Salveth," she said lightly, "aren't you going to introduce her? She's…"

Salveth's expression stiffened instantly.

It was clear he hadn't expected this.

His eyes flickered toward me, a brief flash of unease, almost panic, before he forced himself back into stillness. Beneath the surface I caught the faint hitch in his scent, obsidian and cold ash gone sharp for half a breath. The lighter went still in his hand.

For a second, I almost laughed.

"Selene Ashford," I said before he could speak, my tone calm and even. "I serve in Alpha Bloodmoor's outer den. The trading-post was full, so we're only sharing a table."

His head snapped toward me.

That flicker of panic vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced by visible relief. He let out a breath, then nodded fast. The lighter resumed its slow rotation.

"Yeah, that's right," he said. "This is Selene. One of my pack's own."

Aurelia smiled slowly.

The kind of smile a wolf gives when it already has its quarry pinned beneath its paw.

"Then Selene must be very capable," she said, tilting her head slightly. "I've never seen Salveth sit at the same table with any she-wolf besides me."

Her tone was light, but every word carried weight.

Then she set her crystal communicator casually beside her wine glass, nudging it forward just enough to be seen. It looked accidental.

It wasn't.

I caught a glimpse of the surface.

Her image-glyph.

It matched Salveth's.

A bonded-pair portrait.

Even their colors today were coordinated. The same tones, the same palette, down to the smallest detail, the matching bands at their wrists. Everything deliberate, curated, costly. The kind of paired presentation that in this world meant more than affection. It meant claim. It meant territory.

Under the warm light of the trading-post, they looked perfect.

Like a portrait of an Alpha and his Luna.

I lowered my gaze, set my chopsticks down carefully, and stood.

I didn't want to stay.

Before I could take a step, Aurelia reached out and seized my wrist.

Her fingers were slender, her nails long and perfectly tended.

They dug into my skin just enough to hurt, just enough to leave a mark, but hidden from Salveth's line of sight. Jasmine and cold copper drifted off her, sweet on the surface, wrong underneath.

"Selene," she said softly, her voice laced with feigned concern, "leaving already? Did I say something wrong?"

Her eyes shimmered, almost as if she were genuinely sorry.

"Let me apologize, all right?"

I didn't have the patience for this.

Didn't have the energy to play along with someone wearing sweetness like a borrowed pelt.

I pulled my hand back sharply, breaking free of her grip. Low in my chest, my wolf bristled, a growl held just behind my teeth.

As I lowered my eyes to check my wrist, I saw it: thin red marks where her nails had dug in, one of them already beading with blood.

Before I could even process it, everything happened in an instant.

Aurelia suddenly lifted her own hand and swung it outward.

A loud smack rang through the trading-post.

A little pup standing nearby was struck across the face.

His cry broke out at once, sharp and piercing as he clutched his cheek, tears spilling as he sobbed without control. Two fingers hooked into the hem of his tunic, twisting the cloth tight, and he couldn't look up.

The whole room went still for a split second. The low music between songs. The clink of silver stopping at three separate tables. The kind of hush that in any pack-held den meant someone of standing was watching.

Aurelia's expression changed just as fast.

Her face turned pale, her eyes widening in exaggerated shock.

"Oh no!" she gasped, covering her mouth. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! Sweetheart, are you all right?"

Salveth was already on his feet.

He crossed the room, apologizing again and again to the pup's parents, his voice urgent and sincere. Without hesitation he drew his communicator and sent a transfer of moon-credits, smoothing it over as quickly as he could. The Alpha tending to the lesser-ranked. Keeping the peace in a public den where the Bloodmoor name hung over every dealing like smoke that wouldn't clear.

Then the little pup suddenly pointed straight at me.

"It was her!" he cried between sobs. "She grabbed that lady's hand and made her hit me! She should say sorry!"

Every gaze in the trading-post shifted.

All at once.

Aurelia turned to me slowly, her eyes filling with hurt, her face trembling just enough to look real. Her fingers drifted to the pale stone at her throat again, holding it like a she-wolf afraid she'd be struck next.

"Selene…" she said softly, her voice fragile, "I don't know what I did to upset you."

She lowered her gaze slightly, as if holding back tears.

"If you have a quarrel with me, please… take it out on me. Don't drag innocent ones into it…"

Whispers began to spread.

Low voices. Judging. Speculating.

I could feel it.

The weight of every stare pressing against my back. In a place like this, where half the room owed something to the Bloodmoor name, the pack's opinion wasn't just opinion. It was verdict.

Salveth turned toward me, his expression darkening instantly. The air around him thickened, his Alpha aura pressing down cold across the table, and somewhere beneath my skin my own wolf flattened low under the force of it.

"What are you standing there for?" he snapped, his voice sharp and cold. "Apologize. Now."

His tone left no room for argument.

"Stop making a scene."

Like I was the problem.

Like I was the one who had shamed him.

Like I was the one who didn't belong.

Backed by the murmured encouragement of the grown wolves crowded around him, the little pup broke free from his parents' hold and rushed toward me. Before I could react, he grabbed my hand and sank his teeth into it. Hard. The pain shot through me instantly, sharp and raw, and he didn't let go. Even his small jaw carried the early strength of a born wolf, and somewhere beneath my skin my own wolf flinched, going low and quiet, refusing to answer a pup.

"Hey—" someone gasped, but no one stepped in.

The more gently Aurelia crouched beside him, coaxing him in a soft, soothing voice, the deeper his teeth seemed to press into my skin, as if her words only fueled his stubbornness. Her scent of jasmine and cold copper drifted sweet over the table, and her tone was all concern, all patience, the picture of kindness.

"Sweetheart, let go… okay? You're scaring me," she murmured, reaching out but never quite pulling him away.

I stood there, frozen.

I couldn't exactly push a pup off me. Couldn't raise my voice. Couldn't bare my teeth without looking like the villain they already believed I was.

So I swallowed everything.

Swallowed the pain. Swallowed the humiliation.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, forcing the words out as evenly as I could. "I'm sorry, okay?"

The pup finally loosened his grip, stepping back, still sniffling. My hand throbbed where his teeth had broken the skin, a dull, pulsing ache that quickly turned wet. The scent of my own blood rose between us, and I forced my wolf still.

But Salveth wasn't satisfied.

He didn't notice the blood slowly seeping from the bite mark. Didn't notice the way my fingers trembled slightly from the pain. Didn't even glance at me properly.

All he cared about was salvaging someone else's dignity.

He reached out and grabbed my arm just as I turned to leave. His grip carried the weight of an Alpha's aura, and the air around us thickened, pressing down until even the wolves at the next table dropped their gazes.

"Selene," he said sharply, his grip tightening. "Apologize. To Aurelia."

Aurelia immediately put on that same gentle, self-effacing expression, tugging lightly at his sleeve as if trying to stop him. One finger drifted to the moonstone at her throat and touched it, barely, the way someone checks a pin before walking into a room full of watching eyes.

"Salveth, it's fine," she said softly. "Really, it's not a big deal. I'm okay." She paused, lowering her gaze with perfect timing. "It's just the little one… he got hurt, and he's probably scared."

Her words were modest.

Her tone was forgiving.

And yet, they only made everything worse.

Salveth's attention shifted instantly.

His eyes dropped to the back of her hand, where a faint red mark had formed, barely noticeable, nothing compared to the blood on mine.

But to him, it was everything.

Something in his expression softened, almost pained.

Then, just as quickly, it hardened again as he turned back to me.

Before I could react, he grabbed my injured hand and shoved it straight into the bowl of scalding broth that had just been set on the table.

The heat hit me instantly.

The broth wasn't quite boiling, but it was scalding enough. The liquid soaked into the fresh bite wound, salt and heat combining into a sharp, searing pain that shot up my arm like an electric current.

My entire body jerked.

A gasp tore out of me before I could stop it. Deep inside, my wolf threw herself against the cage of my ribs with a sound I had never heard her make, a high, broken keening that had no name.

The pain was unbearable.

It spread, burned, throbbed, every nerve screaming at once. My fingers curled involuntarily, trembling as I tried to pull back, but his grip held me in place for a second longer. An Alpha's grip. The kind that didn't negotiate.

"Selene, what is wrong with you?" Salveth hissed, his voice low but cutting. "You need to be taught a lesson."

My vision blurred slightly from the pain.

Still, I looked up at him.

"Is that who I am to you?" I asked quietly, my teeth clenched so tightly they ached.

I already knew the answer.

But I still asked.

Maybe some part of me hadn't fully given up yet.

Around us, the whispers grew louder. The other wolves at the pack trading-post weren't even pretending to look away anymore.

"Wait… so which one is his actual mate?"

"Are you blind? Obviously the one he's protecting."

"Yeah, look at them. Matching scents, paired marks on their crystals… it's obvious."

Their voices weren't even hushed anymore.

Their gazes shifted toward me, heavy with something worse than judgment.

Pity.

"Hey, enough is enough," a wolf at a nearby table muttered. "Another few seconds and you're going to boil her hand off."

Only then did Salveth hesitate.

I stood there, my lips pale, my body still trembling slightly from the pain, and yet, somehow, I was smiling.

A faint, fragile smile.

I looked straight at him.

And for the first time, something flickered in his eyes.

Unease.

Just for a moment.

Then he let go.

He released my hand as if nothing had happened, reached for Aurelia instead, and took her by the arm.

"Let's go," he said quietly.

And just like that, he walked away with her, her jasmine scent trailing after them while the bitter clove of his own faded toward the door.

Didn't look back.

Didn't say another word.

When I got home, the den felt colder than usual. The hall was dark, the inner latch still drawn the way he always left it, as though guarding the threshold mattered more than the wolf locked within. His obsidian-and-ash scent clung faintly to the walls, stale now, like something already gone.

A notification glowed on my crystal communicator.

He had sent a vial of burn salve to me through a courier-wolf.

I stared at it for a long moment before opening the message that came with it.