When The Moonstones Meant Nothing

On the third day I gave him the cold shoulder, Ryker—my Alpha and mate-to-be—approved a solo research trip to the Moonlight Forest for himself and his Beta lover, Liana.

He thought I'd fly into a rage, just like always. I didn't.

A month later, he returned and saw it—I had changed.

He sided with Liana, handed her my research, and expected me to fly into a rage. I didn't. I just helped her organize the files.

He destroyed my lab, all to help her solidify her position in the pack.

I didn't fight back. I took the blame without a single word.

Liana gloated. "See? I told you. You can't fight Oliva head-on. Just use your Alpha authority and give her the cold shoulder. She'll fold. She's terrified of losing the mate bond, so she'll do whatever you say."

Ryker bought it hook, line, and sinker, even praising her for being so clever.

Then he pulled me aside. He increased my pack allowance, restored some of my privileges, and even brought up a grand bonding ceremony—the first time he’d ever mentioned it.

But he’d missed one crucial detail: while he was off enjoying his little getaway, he had already stamped my application to sever our mate bond, his approval given without a second thought.

And just like that, I was free of him.

Clean. Final.

————————

1

"Oliva, the Alpha needs this report urgently. Sorry to bother you, but you'll have to finish the data analysis before midnight."

Liana Farrow, Ryker’s Beta, slapped a thick stack of files onto my desk, her tone deceptively sweet.

I took them. "Got it."

She wasn't finished. Still smiling, she added, "The Alpha and I have a meeting later. Just leave the documents in his study. Oh—and remember to tidy up his study before you leave."

Then she sashayed away, her high heels clicking against the floorboards in a rhythm that matched her triumphant mood.

The office around me fell silent. My packmates shot me those awkward glances—half pity, half helplessness.

Everyone knew that Ryker Valerius, the Alpha of the Crimson Peak pack, was my fated mate. Everyone also knew about his blatant favoritism, and that Liana was his clear favorite.

He had elevated her from a lesser vassal family to be his right hand, then gifted her the pack-wide health monitoring project I had spent two grueling months developing.

When I fought back, he called a vote with the Council of Elders, assuming everyone would side with him.

He was wrong. The entire council voted for me. Liana got one vote. His.

He was furious. He accused me of bewitching them. It wasn't just the project—he stripped me of my title as head of the pack's research institute in front of everyone and cut resources to the elders who had supported me.

No one dared to speak up for me again.

Later, he apologized. He said he didn’t want it to look like favoritism. That Liana might feel left out.

I used to believe that bullshit. Now? It was a farce.

Liana wasn't even as competent as the nannies who cared for the pack's pups.

Didn’t want to look like he was playing favorites? Please. His favoritism was so blatant a blind wolf could see it.

I heard footsteps from upstairs and glanced up. It was Ryker.

He appeared at the top of the stairs, his gray wolf eyes sweeping over me without a flicker of recognition, as if I were a piece of furniture. He had changed into a tailored casual suit, its open collar revealing the sharp line of his collarbones. Even from a distance, the cloyingly sweet scent of Liana's evening primrose perfume reached me.

He never used to wear anything scented. That perfume was Liana's signature.

Yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing.

He'd been pulling these petty stunts for years.

It started when I discovered the goodnight messages they were sending each other through the mind-link. I couldn't stay silent—I confronted him.

Ryker said I was overreacting. Then, as if to prove a point, he used it as an excuse to promote Liana to his closest Beta, as if it were his right.

The angrier I got, the more he pushed—taking her to pack social events, carving her roast at moonlight feasts, even dabbing grease from the corner of her mouth with his own handkerchief.

When we argued, he would give me the cold shoulder. After I’d apologized, he would summon his confidants to lecture me, insisting I was consumed by jealousy.

For a while, I really did blame myself. I thought maybe I wasn't being understanding enough. I thought maybe that was why our bond had frayed.

But on the third day of one of his silent treatments—when I was burning up with a wolf fever, barely able to sit up, and he was still packing his bags to go with Liana on a rare "Blood Moon" hunt—I finally gave up.

It was in that moment I finally understood: he wasn't trying to be decent. He was just using my supposed oversensitivity as an excuse to do whatever he wanted.