Exhausted from crying, I lay down on the bed and drifted into a deep sleep, my body still aching from the emotional turmoil of the day. The scent of pine and snow lingered faintly in the air, a reminder of the cold winter outside the pack’s territory.

Late at night, Dean returned.

I quickly shut my eyes, feigning sleep, though my heart pounded in my chest. His footsteps echoed softly against the wooden floor, each one bringing him closer until he stopped in front of me. In the darkness, I felt his gaze heavy upon me, the weight of it almost tangible. There was a long silence, but no apology came—just a low, deep sigh that carried more regret than words ever could. Eventually, he left the bedroom, his presence fading as he moved into the living room.

The sound of his voice carried faintly through the walls, soft but unmistakable.

“Leaving on New Year’s Day? Not sticking around a bit longer?”

My chest tightened as I recognized the name he said next. “Lucia, don’t blame yourself. I know today wasn’t your fault. No need to rush off.”

A bitter taste filled my mouth, and I clenched my fists beneath the blanket. The bond between us, once so strong, now felt like a frayed thread, barely holding together.

“I’ll go with you to the theme park on New Year’s Eve,” Dean continued, his voice softer now, almost tender. “You’ve always wanted to see the fireworks, right?”

I closed my eyes tighter, trying to block out his words, but they seeped through anyway. “No worries, I’m free. Don’t stress about Jessica; we can visit her after the holidays. I’ll talk to her, and she’ll understand.”

A wave of indescribable bitterness welled up from my chest, rising to my throat. I turned my head toward the window, watching the snowflakes fall in silence, each one a reminder of the cold distance between us. Something inside me felt buried, frozen beneath the weight of his neglect.

I spent the night wide awake, my mind replaying every moment of the six years we’d spent together. Never had I been so clear-headed, so aware that this long, pointless journey had reached its end.

When I woke up the next morning, the apartment was as empty as ever. The scent of Dean’s wolf, once comforting, now felt suffocating. I packed a few belongings, my hands moving mechanically as I folded clothes and gathered essentials. Booking the next available flight was a relief, a step toward reclaiming my life.

Disappointment is like a coin. This time, I finally had enough for a ticket out.

When I stepped outside, the snow had stopped. The sky was clear and sunny, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside me. I wrapped my coat tighter around myself, the cold air biting at my skin, and picked up my suitcase. The path to the airport felt like a journey toward freedom, away from the suffocating hierarchy of the pack and the shadow of Dean’s indifference.

Before boarding, I opened my messaging app to Dean’s chat. My finger hovered over the screen for a moment, then I typed out a final message.

“I’m going home for Christmas. You don’t need to come this year.”

To my surprise, Dean, who usually left my messages unread, replied almost instantly.

“???”

I stared at the screen, the two question marks mocking me. But I didn’t respond. Instead, I turned off my phone and boarded the plane, leaving behind the life that had never truly belonged to me.

The announcement for boarding echoed through the loudspeaker. I turned off my phone, unwilling to engage with Dean further. Two hours later, the plane touched down. I had returned to the Silver Moon Pack’s territory, the place where I’d been born and raised. Although it lacked the bustling energy of the Crimson Fang Pack in London, the familiar scent of pine and the sight of the pack’s stone lodges filled me with a profound sense of calm.

Standing at the doorway with my suitcase, my father hesitated as if caught in a time warp. His broad shoulders, though slightly stooped with age, still carried the quiet strength of a respected elder. "Dad, I’m home. I came back by myself." He pressed his lips together, remaining silent for what felt like ages. His amber eyes, so much like mine, were full of understanding as he gently patted my back. "It’s okay, you’re home now. We can still have a good holiday together."

Tears brimmed in my eyes as I nodded. I retreated to my childhood bedroom and sank into the bed, exhaling deeply. The room still smelled faintly of lavender, a scent that had always soothed me. Almost instinctively, I reached for my phone and switched it on. Instantly, Dean’s messages poured in.

"Jessica, what’s going on?"

"You insisted on me joining you for Thanksgiving, and now you suddenly don’t want to go?"

"I’ve told you countless times, there’s nothing between me and Lucia. If there was, where would that leave you?!"

"...Ignoring my calls now?"

"Alright, you said you didn’t want me to come over; don’t regret it."

After that, there were no more messages from him. I glanced at Dean’s words, "If there was, where would that leave you?!" and couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly. The only reason I had agreed to be Dean’s mate back then was because Lucia, the elegant and high-ranking Gamma, had rejected him first, leaving me to pick up the pieces. But now, if I had the chance to do it all over again, I’d rather have never crossed paths with him.

I remembered the day Dean had officially asked me to be his mate. We were standing in the Silver Moon Pack’s grand hall, the air thick with the scent of pine and the murmurs of pack members. He had taken my hand and spoken the formal vow, his voice steady and sure: "I, Dean Simmons, Beta of the Silver Moon Pack, claim you, Jessica Martin, as my mate. By the will of the Moon Goddess, our bond is sealed."

Back then, I had believed him. But over time, his attention had drifted, always toward Lucia, her presence like a shadow over our bond. The memory of their closeness, the way Dean’s eyes lingered on her during pack meetings, still stung. And now, after everything, he still couldn’t see how much he had hurt me.

I set my phone aside and stared at the ceiling, the quiet of the room a stark contrast to the noise in my mind. My wolf stirred faintly in the back of my consciousness, a soft whimper of pain and resignation. I ignored it, focusing instead on the sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside. Here, in the Silver Moon Pack, I was just an Omega, a quiet and overlooked presence. But at least here, I knew where I belonged. And for now, that was enough.

When I first joined the Silver Moon Pack, I struggled to adjust to the strict hierarchy and the constant scrutiny that came with being an Omega. My introverted nature made it hard to fit in, and soon, the other pack members started to avoid me. Some even had the audacity to call me "Frog Princess" behind my back, mocking my shyness and lack of confidence.

One day, during a pack gathering in the grand hall, a particularly nasty warrior—a Delta—shouted "Frog Princess" across the room, drawing the attention of everyone present. My face burned with embarrassment as the pack members turned to stare, their judgmental gazes cutting through me like knives. I stood frozen, unsure of how to respond, feeling the weight of my lowly status pressing down on me.

But then, Dean Simmons, the pack’s Beta, stepped forward. His commanding presence silenced the room immediately. He fixed the Delta with a sharp glare and spoke in a firm alpha tone, “Enough. Show respect to your packmate, or you’ll answer to me.” The Delta quickly backed down, his eyes darting away in submission. Dean turned to me, his expression softening as he offered me a small nod of reassurance.

A rush of gratitude filled me instantly. From that moment, Dean became my guiding light in the pack, the one person who made me feel like I belonged. Though I was just one of the many Omegas he occasionally interacted with, his kindness stood out in the otherwise rigid and often harsh pack dynamics. I found myself drawn to him, seeking his company whenever I could.

Later, I discovered that Dean had his own guiding light, Lucia Weaver, a high-ranking Gamma in the Crimson Fang Pack. She was everything I wasn’t—tall, poised, and elegant, with a commanding presence that made her the envy of many. I heard whispers among the pack that Dean had once confessed his feelings to her, but she turned him down, citing their difference in rank as a barrier. It wasn’t uncommon for high-ranking wolves to avoid forming bonds with those of lower status, as it could complicate pack dynamics.

During that time, Dean seemed distant, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a quiet melancholy. I reached out to him, sending comforting messages through the pack’s mind link when I sensed his mood was low. Slowly, we grew closer. He’d ask me to join him during pack training sessions, and afterward, we’d share meals in the pack hall. Sometimes, he’d invite me to watch him spar with the other warriors, his strength and agility a testament to his role as Beta.

The years passed quickly within the pack. In our final year together, while Dean was helping me with a particularly challenging training exercise, he suddenly paused and looked at me with a thoughtful expression. “Jessica Martin,” he said, his voice steady but warm, “you’ve really come into your own.”

I was stunned, unsure of how to respond. It wasn’t until later, when I caught my reflection in the polished surface of a pack artifact, that I realized what he meant. My features had matured, and the timid, awkward girl I once was had faded into the background. I even noticed my name being mentioned more often among the pack, usually in connection with Dean. It felt like everything was changing, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on how.

Just before Dean was set to leave for the Crimson Fang Pack, he invited me to a quiet corner of the pack territory, where we shared a meal under the moonlight. The warmth of the fire and the scent of roasted meat filled the air, but it was Dean’s presence that truly comforted me. Between bites, I jokingly complained about feeling unsure of my place in the pack. Through the flickering light of the flames, I heard Dean say, “Jessica Martin, be my mate. Then, we’ll go to the Crimson Fang Pack together.”

My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. The idea of leaving the Silver Moon Pack was daunting, but the thought of standing beside Dean as his mate filled me with a sense of hope I hadn’t felt in years.