When I lost my baby in a sudden rogue attack on the Southern Woodland Pack, Alpha Cameron was busy saving his female Beta, not sparing me—his Luna—a single glance.

He saw my white dress soaked in blood, shielded his Beta’s curious eyes, and muttered coldly, “Stay close to me. It’s a misfortune.” Then he sped off, pointing out that the blood was a sign of catastrophe.

That same night, while I was in the bedroom, I found lingerie stuffed in the corner of our closet—a piece that definitely wasn’t mine. I’d never even worn anything like that.

Closing the closet door, I calmly dialed a number. “Alpha Ross, I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving the Southern Woodland Pack and returning to the Northern Woodland Pack.”

——

"That’s good to hear, Ariane. I’ll prepare everything for your departure," Alpha Ross replied, sounding almost too pleased with my decision.

The moment I ended the call, Cameron walked out of the bathroom. His hair was damp, with beads of water still clinging to his skin. He used to take quick five-minute showers, but lately, he’s been in there for at least half an hour, always with his phone in hand.

"Who were you talking to?" He asked, eyes fixed on his phone.

"I was on the phone with an old friend," I replied truthfully. Alpha Ross and I were close back when I was part of the Northern Woodland Pack, but I’d left to join the Southern Woodland Pack when I discovered Cameron was my mate.

“Ah,” he muttered, barely paying attention. As usual, he wasn’t really listening. For the first time, I didn’t get upset or cause a scene; I just quietly started writing my farewell letter on my phone.

He reached for his coffee cup, expecting the evening coffee I always made for him. When he realized it wasn’t there, he finally glanced my way.

“How’s your injury? I heard from the healer you’ll recover soon. I didn’t ask for details, but knowing them, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Don’t worry about the rogues—I’m already tracking every last one,” he said, looking at me directly.

“I’m fine,” I replied, still typing, without looking up.

That afternoon, after the rogue attack, I’d been at the pack healer’s clinic. They told me my wolf was severely injured. The most crushing news, though, was finding out that I had lost my baby. I hadn’t even known I was pregnant. It was my dream to have a family, but that hope felt out of reach now. The healer apologized, saying that if I’d been brought in sooner, the baby might have been saved.

Cameron noticed my blank expression and frowned, starting to approach, maybe to check on me. But his phone buzzed, and without hesitation, he picked it up and walked away. A small smile appeared as he whispered into the phone, “Don’t worry, I’m heading out now. I’ll take care of you, Beta Kennedy.”

And what about me? He knew I was hurt, too, but he chose to take care of another woman instead.

Once he was out of sight, I opened my secret social media account and scrolled through his feed. Sure enough, he’d posted something new—visible to everyone but me. It was a message to Kennedy.

I shouldn’t have let the sweetest Beta down. I’ll make sure to protect you better, as your devoted Alpha.

A sharp pain hit me as I read it. Cameron had once told me he didn’t like sharing things on social media, yet he was doing it now for her. I closed my phone, just as a notification from Alpha Ross appeared, showing the departure documents ready for my review. I clicked the link, prepared the paperwork, and resolved to print it the next morning.

The next morning, I woke up early and decided to make my own breakfast for a change. I kept it simple: eggs, sausages, and orange juice. While I was eating, Cameron entered the dining area holding a basket of fruit. My mouth watered just looking at it. Since the healer recommended healthier foods to help me recover, I figured he’d thought of me.

Just as I reached to open the basket, though, he slapped my hand away.

“You like bread, right? I brought some just for you,” he said.

I froze for a moment before understanding—the fruit basket wasn’t for me. It was for his Beta, Kennedy.

“We’ve been together for years, Cameron, and you still don’t know I’m allergic to wheat?” I said, unable to hide the hurt.

His face darkened. “Stop overreacting. Eat it or don’t—I don’t care.”

As he turned to leave, I walked into the bedroom, grabbed a bag, and handed it to him.

“When you see Kennedy later, do me a favor and return this to her.”

He looked confused as he took the bag. When he saw the lingerie inside, surprise flashed across his face. He looked like he was about to say something, but when he saw my calm, indifferent expression, all he said was, “I don’t know how this got here.”

“Right,” I replied quietly.

Noticing my low mood, Cameron offered, “I’ll cook for you today.”

After all these years together, he’d never once cooked for me, not even when I was sick. He always had the omegas handle it. But for Kennedy? On her first day as his Beta, she was already getting homemade meals from my mate.

As I sat across from Cameron, thinking about how he treated his Beta better than his own mate, I accidentally knocked my fork to the floor. My fingers trembled as I bent to pick it up, sensing the unease growing in my chest.

When I straightened, Cameron was already at the door. Without so much as a glance my way, he threw a casual “Something urgent came up. I’ll cook for you next time,” over his shoulder before he left.

Half an hour later, I limped into my office for my Luna duties, the weight of his indifference pressing on me. I felt the sympathetic stares of my pack members but shrugged them off, pretending not to notice. As I refilled my mug in the break room, two voices whispered nearby.

“So it’s true then? Alpha Cameron’s spending all his time with Beta Kennedy?”

“Yes! I saw them together just this morning. He even picked her up in front of everyone,” replied the other voice.

My hand slipped, sending the mug shattering to the floor. I bent down, carefully picking up the shards, my heart heavy with unspoken pain.

It was past ten that night when I finally finished my work. A familiar presence settled beside me, and Cameron draped a coat over my shoulders. "Why didn’t you answer my messages?” he muttered, sounding annoyed.

I glanced at my phone and found his single message: What flavor of juice do you like?

Three years ago, I’d asked him for an orange juice to celebrate the start of summer. He’d turned to me then with disgust, sneering, “Orange juice? Grow up, Ariane.”

And now he was bringing me one. My wolf, Ciara, stirred uneasily within me, sensing the strange, hollow gesture. I ignored the drink, keeping my focus on my screen.

His confusion was palpable. “You used to beg me for this,” he said, sounding almost baffled.

I kept my voice steady, barely glancing his way. “It’s late. If I drink it now, I won’t sleep.”

Silence. Then, in a cold voice, he muttered, “I’m going to the restroom. Let’s head home after.”

The moment he left, his phone buzzed on my desk. Kennedy’s name lit up the screen with a message, “You silly! Who sends dozens of juices with different flavors all at once? Trying to make me a little piggy, huh? Shivering here!”

I looked away, ignoring the surge of irritation from Ciara. She growled softly in my mind, her trust in Gavin, Cameron’s wolf, weakening with every passing moment.

When we got home after eleven, I walked straight to the bedroom and started packing my things. Cameron walked in a while later, towel drying his hair, his gaze catching on the half-empty vanity.

He frowned but brushed it off casually. “I’ve got a business trip to another continent next month. Let me know if you want anything.”

I didn’t bother looking up. “No need. Thanks.”

Ciara, always patient and loyal, was growling within me, a low, steady sound that spoke of her own heartache and loss of faith in him.

Suddenly, Cameron threw the towel onto the bed, his eyes narrowing. “What, all this because I got you the wrong breakfast? Just for a damn bread...”

I opened my mouth to explain, but he scoffed, cutting me off. “I can’t stand you being dramatic, Ariane. You’re out of line.”

With that, he stormed into his study, slamming the door behind him.

In the seven years we’d been together, he’d always been the one to give me the cold shoulder first, and I’d always been the one to break the silence, to humble myself. But tonight, I simply turned off the bedside lamp, Ciara silent and hurt within me, and let him stew alone in his study.

The next morning, I made breakfast as usual. I’d just finished eating my portion when he came out of his study, still on the phone.

“Take the day off,” he ordered. “By 6 p.m., I need you to make me an identical fondant cake.”

Ever since Cameron and I had started dating, I’d taken up gardening as a hobby. I loved arranging bouquets from the flowers I’d grown myself, a small act of care I thought he’d appreciate. But today, when I glimpsed at the screen of his phone, I knew exactly who it was for—again. I recognized the little cartoon avatar on his screen. Kennedy’s profile picture.

The silence in the room felt thick as I absorbed the sight, but Cameron was oblivious to the tension. He looked at me expectantly, clearly waiting for my response to his unreasonable request. “Sure,” I said evenly, hiding my feelings. “Send me the picture, and I’ll head out to get what I need.”

I stood up, feeling the weight of my decision settling over me. This would be the last bouquet I’d make for him. I glanced at him one more time, thinking, After this, I'm finally done.

Before I reached the door, his voice, unexpectedly hesitant, stopped me. “Ariane… Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Without turning, I replied, “Anything else?” My tone was flat, and he hesitated, then said, “I’ll send you the money for it.”

I nodded, leaving without another word. As I rode the elevator down, I pulled out my phone, scanning through our message history. 4,596 messages I’d sent him. He’d replied to only 15.

The absurdity of it made me smirk, bitterly. Upstairs, his phone would soon buzz with the notification of a rejected $100 transfer. I imagined his hand clenching as he read it.

Later that night, around 8 p.m., my phone rang. Cameron’s name flashed on the screen.

“Where are you?” He asked, his voice holding a rare hint of concern.

I was sitting in a diner, picking at my food. “What’s up?” I sidestepped his question.

“Nothing much,” he replied softly, almost like he was second-guessing himself. “I just wanted to say… the bouquet was beautiful. As always.”

A silence fell over the line before he added, lower, “Thanks. I know it must’ve taken a lot of effort.”

Before I could respond, Kennedy’s sugary voice sounded in the background.

“Oh, Ariane!” she called, her tone annoyingly sweet. “Cameron told me you made my birthday bouquet. You’re so talented! I wish I could do that, but I’m so clumsy. Cameron’s always calling me his little dummy.”

Her words dripped with fake innocence, and before I could answer, she invited me to the party. But then Cameron’s voice cut in, firmer this time. “Actually, you don’t need to come.” Then he hung up.

Moments later, my phone buzzed again, this time with a message from him. It was a pinned location and a note: If you do stop by, grab a blueberry cheesecake for Kennedy.

I sighed, unable to help a sarcastic smile. The things I do.

When I arrived at the party and pushed open the door to the private room, my gaze immediately landed on Cameron. He was feeding Kennedy a forkful of pasta, and she looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes. As soon as he saw me, irritation flickered over his face.

“Why did you come?” He demanded, his voice low and displeased.

I met his glare steadily, saying nothing. I knew Kennedy had been the one who texted me. But I’d come anyway.

“Oh, Ariane!” Kennedy greeted with a broad smile, her voice overly sweet.

Cameron’s gaze darkened. “Didn’t I tell you not to come?”

I was about to respond, but Kennedy beat me to it, pouting. “Sorry, Cameron. I just wanted some blueberry cheesecake, so I used your phone to get her here.” She batted her lashes innocently, and he reached out to ruffle her hair, murmuring, “You little munchkin.”

As I watched, my heart clenched, and Ciara, my wolf, stirred within me, filled with a mix of hurt and anger. See how easily he dismisses us? she murmured. It hurt, but her words were true.

We deserve better, I replied silently.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled out a transfer letter from my bag, stepping forward to hand it to Cameron. “Hey, Cameron,” I said calmly. “I need you to sign this transfer request. A friend of mine wants to transfer packs because their mate is elsewhere.”

He barely glanced at it, still absorbed in Kennedy’s presence, and signed without hesitation. He didn’t even know it was my own transfer letter, that I was finally leaving him.

Just as I was about to take the letter back, his hand lingered, grabbing mine briefly. His expression flickered. “You… came here just for this?” His voice was unreadable, almost guarded.

I nodded, pulling my hand back quickly, but not before he caught sight of the faint cuts on my palm, small wounds left from handling roses with thorns. He recoiled slightly, his face hardening.

Kennedy noticed, her eyes lighting up with intrigue. “Oh, Ariane,” she said, her gaze fixating on my wrist. “Your tattoo looks exactly like the one Cameron used to have.” She laughed. “He had it removed months ago.”

I followed her gaze, taking in the tattoo of a Ariane flower on my wrist. Years ago, it had meant something to him too. I glanced at Cameron’s wrist, now bare, and felt the last bit of warmth drain from my heart.

“It’s just a tattoo. You can get it too if you want,” I said coolly, feeling a surge of anger I could barely contain.

I turned and walked out, my mind a whirl of pain and determination.

My phone rang, and when I glanced at the screen, it was my father. I picked up, keeping my voice steady.

“Ariane! How are you? How’s Cameron treating you?” he asked warmly.

My throat tightened. “I’m fine, Dad. How are you and Mom?”

He must have sensed my evasion, but he let it go. “Your mother and I miss you, sweetheart. We’ve been looking forward to your visit. When are you coming home?”

I bit back the ache in my chest. “I’ll be home in two days. I promise.”

After hanging up, I heard footsteps behind me. Turning, I saw Cameron approaching. His face was unreadable, his posture tense.

He didn’t say a word, just walked up the stairs. “Let’s crash here tonight,” he muttered.

I didn’t know why he wanted to stay, but I followed, feeling the weight of my decision looming closer.

The next morning, when I woke, Cameron was gone. I glanced at the clock—it was already past noon. Moments later, he returned, and I realized he’d made food.

“Come eat,” he said, his voice softer than usual.