The pack house felt suffocating as we made our way back to our private quarters.
The evening's events replayed in my mind like a broken record—Elara's perfect tears, the pack's sympathetic murmurs, and worst of all, Damien's questioning gaze. My hands trembled slightly as I removed my earrings, the simple act feeling monumental in the heavy silence between us.
Damien moved around our bedroom with careful precision, loosening his tie and hanging his jacket in the closet. He hadn't said a word since we'd left the gathering, but I could feel his tension through our bond—a tight coil of confusion and something else I didn't want to name.
"I'm going to shower," he said finally, his voice carefully neutral.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. The bathroom door clicked shut, and I heard the water start running. Only then did I allow my shoulders to sag, the weight of the evening pressing down on me like a physical force.
That's when I saw it.
Damien's phone lay face-up on the bedside table, the screen still glowing from a notification. He must have forgotten to lock it in his haste to escape the awkwardness between us. I wasn't the type to snoop—I'd never felt the need to. Our trust had always been absolute.
But something about tonight, about the way he'd looked at Elara, made my feet carry me toward the device before my rational mind could stop me.
The notification was from Instagram. My heart stuttered as I read the preview: "Ela_Wayne _official posted a new story."
My finger hovered over the screen. This was wrong. I knew it was wrong. But the doubt that had been planted tonight was growing like a poisonous vine, and I needed to know.
I tapped the notification.
What I found made my knees buckle.
Months of activity. Months. Every single photo Elara had posted, liked by @DamienCastro_Alpha. Every story, viewed within hours of posting. There were pictures of her morning coffee, her yoga sessions, her travels. And Damien had been watching it all, consuming every detail of her life like a starving man.
I scrolled back further, my chest growing tighter with each swipe. The activity went back to just after our mate bond ceremony six months ago. While I'd been planning our future, dreaming of our Luna ceremony, he'd been secretly following his ex-fiancée's every move.
A particularly painful discovery made me gasp aloud—a photo of Elara in a red dress, the same shade I'd worn to our anniversary dinner last month. Damien had liked it the very day I'd asked him if he preferred me in red or blue. He'd said blue, claiming red wasn't his color. But here was proof that red was very much his color—on her.
The shower was still running, giving me time to dig deeper into this betrayal. I found more evidence of his obsession: viewed stories of her morning routines, her favorite restaurants, even her workout videos. He knew more about her daily life than I did, and she'd been gone for two years.
My hands shook as I set the phone back down, trying to position it exactly as I'd found it. The evidence was damning, but more than that, it was heartbreaking. While I'd been building our life together, he'd been living a double life, emotionally cheating with a ghost from his past.
The water shut off, and I quickly moved to my vanity, pretending to remove my makeup. In the mirror, I watched Damien emerge from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He looked so normal, so innocent, that for a moment I wondered if I'd imagined what I'd seen.
But the images were burned into my memory. Months of secret devotion to another woman.
"You're quiet," he observed, reaching for his phone. I watched him check it, his face giving nothing away.
"Just tired," I managed, my voice surprisingly steady.
He nodded, already distracted by whatever he was reading. Probably her latest update, I thought bitterly.
I lay awake long after he'd fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling and trying to reconcile the man beside me with the evidence of his betrayal. By morning, I'd made a decision. I had to confront him.
***
Damien was already dressed and checking his phone when I woke up. The sight of him scrolling through what was likely Elara's feed made my stomach churn.
"We need to talk," I said, sitting up in bed.
He didn't look up. "Can it wait? I have an early meeting with Leo about the territory expansion."
"No, it can't wait." My voice was sharper than I intended. "I saw your phone last night."
That got his attention. His head snapped up, and I saw a flash of guilt in his eyes before his expression hardened.
"You went through my phone?"
"It was unlocked. I saw the Instagram notification from Elara, and I—"
"You invaded my privacy." He stood up abruptly, shoving the phone into his pocket. "That's a new low, even for you."
"For me?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Damien, you've been stalking your ex-girlfriend's social media for months! While we've been together, while we've been planning our future, you've been obsessing over her!"
"I wasn't obsessing," he snapped, but his denial rang hollow. "I was just... keeping tabs. She's back in the territory now, and as Alpha, I need to know—"
"You liked her workout videos, Damien! You watched her morning coffee stories! That's not keeping tabs for security reasons, that's emotional infidelity!"
His jaw tightened. "You're being dramatic. It's just social media."
"Just social media?" I stood up, my hands clenching into fists. "You told me you didn't like me in red, but you liked dozens of her photos wearing red! You've been living a lie, and you've been making me live one too!"
"I don't have time for this paranoid bullshit," he said, moving toward the door. "Maybe if you spent less time snooping through my private business and more time understanding what it means to be a Luna, we wouldn't have problems like last night."
The accusation hit like a slap. "Problems like last night? You mean when you chose to believe your ex-fiancée's crocodile tears over the testimony of our entire pack? When you asked if I had done something wrong instead of defending me?"
"Elara was upset—"
"Elara was manipulating you! And it worked perfectly because you're still in love with her!"
The words hung in the air between us like a live wire. Damien's face went pale, then flushed with anger.
"You're out of line," he said quietly, but his voice carried a dangerous edge. "I chose you. We're mates. That should be enough."
"Should be," I repeated, the words tasting bitter. "But it's not, is it? Because if it were enough, you wouldn't be secretly following her every move. You wouldn't have questioned my integrity last night. You wouldn't be standing there looking guilty as hell right now."
He stared at me for a long moment, and I saw the exact instant he decided to run rather than fight. "I'm late for my meeting."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone with the wreckage of my trust and the terrible knowledge that my mate's heart was divided.
***
I needed air. I needed space. I needed to get out of the pack house before I suffocated on my own doubts and disappointments.
The town center was busy with the usual morning crowd, wolves going about their daily business, blissfully unaware that their future Luna's world was crumbling. I found myself at Moonrise Café, a quiet little place I'd discovered months ago when I needed to escape pack politics.
I'd just settled at a corner table with my coffee when she walked in.
Elara.
Of course.
She spotted me immediately, her face lighting up with what looked like genuine surprise and delight. "Seraphina! What a wonderful coincidence!"
I watched her approach, noting how every head in the café turned to track her movement. She had that effect on people—that magnetic pull that made others want to orbit around her.
"Mind if I join you?" she asked, already sliding into the seat across from me. "I was just thinking how lovely it would be to have a proper chat, just the two of us."
I wanted to say no. Every instinct screamed at me to leave. But something about her confident assumption that she was welcome made me stay. I needed to understand what I was dealing with.
"Of course," I said, keeping my voice neutral.
She signaled the waitress for a coffee, then turned her full attention to me. "I hope you're not still upset about last night. I really didn't mean to cause any trouble."
"Of course not," I replied, matching her false sweetness with my own.
"I'm so glad you understand." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "You know, I've been thinking about our situation, and I want you to know that I'm prepared to be very reasonable about everything."
"Our situation?"
"Well, the Luna position, of course." She said it so casually, as if we were discussing the weather. "I know the pack has grown quite fond of you, and I wouldn't want to disrupt that unnecessarily. So I've decided—I'm willing to let you keep it."
Let me keep it. As if it were hers to give.
I felt my coffee cup tremble slightly in my hands. "How generous of you."
If she caught my sarcasm, she didn't show it. "I thought so too. After all, you've worked so hard for it, haven't you? All those years supporting Damien through his difficult period, helping him rebuild. It would be a shame for all that effort to go to waste."
Each word was carefully chosen, designed to minimize my role to that of a helpful assistant rather than a true partner and mate.
"Of course," she continued, stirring sugar into her coffee with delicate precision, "I hope you understand that this is quite a sacrifice on my part. Damien and I... well, we have such a deep connection. A history that goes back to childhood. First loves, you know how that is."
She paused, tilting her head as if a thought had just occurred to her. "Actually, maybe you don't know. I don't think Damien was your first love, was he? But he was mine, and I was his. That creates a bond that's... well, it's different from other relationships."
I set my cup down carefully, afraid I might throw it. "Is that so?"
"Oh yes." Her eyes took on a dreamy quality. "We used to talk for hours about our future, about the pack we'd build together, the children we'd have. He had such beautiful dreams. I imagine he's shared some of them with you too, though of course it wouldn't be quite the same."
The implication was clear—I was a substitute, a placeholder for the real love of his life.
"We were so young when I had to leave," she continued, her voice growing wistful. "The pressure from both our families was enormous. They thought we were too young, that we needed to experience life separately before making such a commitment. I fought them, you know. I wanted to stay, wanted to stand by Damien no matter what happened to his family's status."
It was a complete fabrication. I knew from Damien himself that she'd left the moment his father died, not wanting to be associated with his family's downfall. But she told the lie with such conviction that I almost believed her myself.
"But in the end, I was forced to go. It broke both our hearts." She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. "I never stopped loving him, though. Never stopped hoping that someday we'd find our way back to each other."
I wanted to call her out on the lies, wanted to throw the truth in her face. But something held me back. Maybe it was the public setting, maybe it was my ingrained desire to avoid conflict. Or maybe it was the growing certainty that no matter what I said, she would twist it to her advantage.
"That's quite a story," I said finally.
"It's not a story, it's the truth." Her voice carried a note of hurt innocence. "But I can see why you might find it difficult to accept. After all, you've built your entire relationship with Damien on being there during his lowest point. That must feel very important to you."
Another carefully placed barb. She was suggesting that my relationship was based on pity and gratitude rather than genuine love.
"But now that I'm back, and now that Damien is strong again..." She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air. "Well, I think it's only natural that he might wonder what could have been. Don't you?"
I stood up abruptly, unable to sit there and listen to any more of her poison. "I should go."
"Of course, dear." She smiled up at me, victorious. "I'm so glad we had this chat. It's important that we understand each other, don't you think? Especially since we'll be seeing so much of each other now that I'm back."
I left without another word, but I could feel her satisfaction following me out of the café like a cold wind. She'd accomplished exactly what she'd set out to do—plant more seeds of doubt, make me question everything I thought I knew about my relationship with Damien.
As I walked back toward the pack house, I couldn't shake the feeling that this 'coincidental' meeting had been anything but. Elara Wayne was playing a game, and I was finally beginning to understand the rules.
The question was: was I willing to play?
