Three days after the marking ceremony, I finally saw Donovan Sullivan again.
It was at the preschool entrance, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint musk of werewolves. Donovan, Alpha of the Sullivan Pack, was dropping off his newly acknowledged daughter for school. The principal, a Delta in the local pack, stepped out to greet him, her posture deferential.
“Alpha Sullivan, Luna White,” she said, her voice laced with respect, “we’ll ensure your pup is well cared for here. You have our word.”
Winter White, addressed as Luna, cast a subtle glance at Donovan, her cheeks flushing pink. Donovan hesitated for a moment, his broad shoulders tensing, but he didn’t correct the title. His wolf’s presence was unmistakable, even in his human form—dominant, commanding, and impossible to ignore.
Standing at a distance, I couldn’t help but find it bitterly amusing. Our bond hadn’t been severed yet, and here he was, allowing himself to be labeled as someone’s mate. My wolf stirred within me, a low growl of discontent that I quickly suppressed.
Before I could react, my nephew, a young warrior in the Edwards Pack, darted forward. He shoved Donovan, his small frame trembling with fury, and glared at Winter.
“You dishonor my aunt, Alpha Sullivan!” he spat, his voice sharp and accusing. “Just days ago, you were standing at the marking ceremony with her. When did *she* become your Luna?”
The crowd of parents and teachers froze, their eyes darting between us. Donovan, ever the composed Alpha, shielded Winter behind him and turned his cold gaze toward me. His alpha tone, deep and authoritative, cut through the tension.
“Luna Edwards,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of his rank, “control your pack. Don’t let him spread lies about my mate.”
His words were calculated, designed to shift the blame onto me while preserving his image. He was confident I wouldn’t challenge him publicly, confident I still harbored feelings for him.
I had imagined countless times how Donovan would approach me when we met again, but I never expected him to show not an ounce of remorse. His betrayal still burned, the bond between us frayed but not yet broken.
After he spoke, Donovan turned his back to me, his steps hurried as he followed the principal into the school. His daughter clung to Winter’s hand, her wide eyes darting between us.
When they emerged, I was still there. Winter kept her head down, avoiding my gaze. Three years ago, she had been an Omega in my pack, an intern I had personally mentored. Now, she stood as Luna of the Sullivan Pack, her position precarious but unchallenged.
Her daughter tugged at Winter’s hand and whispered, loud enough for me to hear, “Mommy, why does this lady always bother Daddy? She’s so annoying.”
I couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound sharp and humorless. “And what if I decide to pay attention, little one?”
Donovan sighed, his broad shoulders rising and falling as if burdened by my presence. “She’s just a pup, Aya. Don’t take it to heart.”
Winter, trembling, nudged her daughter toward me. “Apologize to Luna Edwards,” she urged, her voice wavering. “You upset her. Your father might leave you if you don’t behave.”
The child refused, clinging to Donovan’s leg and wailing loudly. The noise echoed in my ears, a cacophony of emotions I could no longer ignore.
And in that moment, I realized I didn’t need an answer from Donovan anymore. The bond between us, once sacred, had been tainted beyond repair. My wolf, restless and pained, urged me to move forward, to leave the past where it belonged.
As I turned to leave, Donovan’s voice called after me, softer now, almost pleading. “Aya, wait.”
I paused but didn’t turn back. “Goodbye, Alpha Sullivan,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “May the Moon Goddess guide your path.”
And with that, I walked away, the weight of his betrayal slowly lifting with each step. My wolf let out a quiet howl, a farewell to what once was, and a promise to what could still be.
