The morning came, and when I finally opened my eyes, the bed was empty. The scent of food drifted into the room. I dragged myself out and found Othello in the kitchen, humming as he plated breakfast. Like nothing happened.
"Morning, love," he greeted, flashing me a soft smile. "Come eat."
I just stared at him. How could he be like this? How could he pretend everything was fine?
I didn't say a word as I sat down. I couldn't. I had nothing left to say. Othello, too busy making sure my plate was full, didn’t even notice my silence.
And then my eyes shifted, unwillingly landing on the small box and bouquet of flowers beside my plate.
"Happy 2nd anniversary," the note attached read. "I'm sorry I forgot to give you this yesterday. I'll make it up to you today."
I blinked, my fingers brushing over the ribbon on the box. The words were sweet, but they felt hollow. Cold. Like a bandage over a wound too deep to heal.
That was when his phone buzzed on the table beside me. A flash notification popped up on the screen.
I wasn’t going to look. I wasn’t.
But my eyes betrayed me.
And what I saw made my blood run cold.
"Melanie’s husband is dead. She’s coming back. She’s looking for you."
I stopped breathing. The fork slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the plate.
Othello finally looked at me. "You okay?"
I forced a smile. "Yeah. Just lost my appetite."
Because once again—Melanie had returned to ruin my life.
The moment Othello saw the message, his entire demeanor changed. He stood up from the table, grabbing his phone and dialing a number as he walked away. His voice was urgent, almost desperate. "Where are you? Are you okay?"
I watched him, numb, already knowing who he was talking to. Then he hung up and turned to me. "Pack duty. I have to go."
I let out a bitter smile. "Of course. Go ahead."
He hesitated for a moment, like he was about to say something else, but then he just nodded and left. No apology. No explanation.
As soon as the door shut behind him, I exhaled shakily and reached for my phone.
A year ago, we had both agreed to install a tracker on each other’s devices—something we laughed about, calling it a safety measure, a way to always find each other no matter what. I never thought I would actually need it.
But today, I did.
I opened the tracking app, my heart pounding as I watched his location update. He wasn’t going to the packhouse or his office.
He was going somewhere else.
My wolf growled inside me, seething with rage, but I swallowed the anger and grabbed my coat.
I parked a few streets away from the restaurant, my fingers gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. Through the large glass windows, I saw them.
Othello and Melanie.
They were sitting in our favorite restaurant. The one we always went to for anniversaries, birthdays, even just casual date nights. The place where he once told me he loved me.
But today, he was sitting across from her.
Melanie was crying—dramatically, like she was in some tragic movie.
And my husband?
He reached out and pulled her into his arms.
I froze.
His hands, the same hands that held me, were now holding her. He whispered something in her ear, something that made her sob even harder.
And then—he kissed her forehead.
Just like he used to do to me. The way he comforted me. The way he loved me.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced myself to stay still. To watch. To see just how much of a fool I had been.
I reached for my phone, my hands shaking. I dialed his number, holding onto the last sliver of hope that maybe—just maybe—I still mattered.
Inside the restaurant, I saw him glance at his phone. He didn’t even hesitate before he declined the call.
A text popped up instead.
"Pack meeting. Busy."
I let out a strangled laugh, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand. Right. Of course.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palm. He had made his choice. But I wasn’t done.
I followed them.
They had no idea I was trailing behind, keeping my distance as they left the restaurant together. The drive wasn’t long. My heart pounded harder with every turn they took.
And then—
They arrived at her house.
My breath caught in my throat as I watched from the shadows. Othello stepped out of his car first, opening the door for her, ever the gentleman.
Melanie looked up at him, her face filled with something I once believed was meant only for me.
And then it happened.
She grabbed his face and kissed him. Not just a kiss. A desperate, hungry kiss. And he kissed her back.
I felt like I had been punched in the gut. But it wasn’t over.
Right there, in the doorway of her house, their hands started roaming. His lips trailed down her neck, and she arched against him, moaning softly.
I covered my mouth, biting down on my lip to stop the sob that threatened to escape. Othello lifted her up, carrying her inside as their mouths crashed together, filled with a passion I hadn’t seen from him in years.
And then—the door shut. Locking me out.
I stood there, motionless, as my world shattered all over again. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.
All I could do was watch as my husband—the man who had sworn loyalty to me—devoured another woman in front of my eyes.
