That was when my senses caught it—the cloying perfume of another woman clinging to him. Not mine. Hers. My wolf recoiled violently, a low growl reverberating through me, though I swallowed it down. My stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat.
Instinctively, I shifted away from his touch.
His hand froze mid-air. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. ” Rowena… did you see something?”
I burrowed deeper beneath the covers, my voice muffled. ” No. Just tired from the cold. I want to sleep.”
By morning, the fever had broken, leaving me clearer than I’d felt in weeks. I rose and began to pack, methodically erasing my presence from the house we had shared.
That was when I realized how many little couple’s trinkets I had bought over the years—matching mugs, keychains, wolf figurines symbolizing eternal bonds.
Once, he’d used them with me.
Somewhere along the way, they had been shoved into corners, left to gather dust.
I tossed them all into the trash.
Then my hand fell upon an album—thick with memories: photos from our travels, postcards we’d written to each other, train tickets from the days we’d endured long-distance, and letters penned in his once-passionate hand.
It was heavy with our history. And yet, since Sophie appeared, not a single new memory had been added.
When Alpha Leopold walked in, I was dropping the album into the fire.
With a snarl, he lunged forward like a wolf driven mad, yanking it from the flames with his bare hands. The fire licked at his skin, blistering instantly, but he didn’t flinch.
“Are you insane?” he roared—a first for him. His Alpha aura cracked in the room like thunder. “Do you have any idea how important this is to us? Why would you burn it?”
His anger felt raw, maybe even real—but so was the fact that he was planning to stand before the Moon Goddess with another woman.
I had no strength left to fight.
“It was moldy and infested,” I said coolly. “I already backed everything up. I’ll make a new one.”
The fury bled from his eyes, cooling to something unreadable.
Later, as I applied ointment to the burns on his hands, he studied me intently. His gaze searched my face as though he could claw the truth out of me. Then, suddenly, he spoke.
“Rowena, you haven’t seemed yourself lately. Is work stressing you out?” His tone softened, almost coaxing. “I booked you a custom private trip. Go take a break. Clear your head.”