Chapter 5

Estelle's POV

After a brief silence, I let out a quiet laugh.

It was thin and hollow. Not even my wolf felt comforted by it.

"Don't worry," I said, pushing back my chair. The legs scraped softly against the floor as I stood. "It won't be long now."

I didn't look at him again. I went straight upstairs.

His scent lingered behind me—dense, dominant, edged with an irritation I couldn't quite name. The feeling rolled beneath his skin like distant thunder before a storm, trapped and searching for release.

He sensed something.

He just didn't understand what.

I turned off the bedroom light before he came in.

Lying on my side of the bed, I faced the window. Wind moved through the mountain woods outside, a low whistle threading through the night. Obsidian Manor was always cold after dark. I kept my scent tightly restrained.

I compressed it to almost nothing—thinned it until it was barely a trace, as if deliberately erasing the existence of a mate.

The shower stopped running.

Minutes later, the mattress dipped.

He smelled of clean water and fir trees, beneath it the unmistakable weight of Alpha bloodline dominance. Once, that scent had drawn me in without thought. Now it only tightened my nerves.

His arm came around my waist the next second, firm and instinctive, pulling me away from the edge of the bed and into him.

It wasn't tenderness.

It was possession.

An Alpha's reflex when he senses something slipping beyond his control.

I went still.

Deep inside my consciousness, my wolf opened her eyes. But she didn't move toward him.

She lay there quietly, tail curled close, watching without emotion.

I let his warmth press against my back. I let his mate-scent try to wrap around me.

But my wolf did not answer him.

Not once.

The next morning, I made breakfast for one. Just bread and milk.

Simple and silent, like the routine of a lone she-wolf.

When Cassius came downstairs, I was already seated at the table. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, illuminating the polished surface and the empty chair across from me.

I didn't look up.

His footsteps paused, then approached.

His scent brushed past me as he deliberately softened his voice—almost conciliatory.

"I'm going out to sea this weekend. Just the two of us."

I took a bite of bread and chewed slowly. "Mm."

That was all, no excitement, no anticipation, like confirming a meeting.

I caught the faint hitch in his scent—uncertainty.

Alphas hate losing control.

The day before the weekend, he canceled.

Wind roared faintly through the phone speaker, carrying the distant trace of another pack's territory.

"There's a project up North that needs attention," he said. "Last-minute."

His tone was rushed, with no explanation, no reassurancem, not even a sorry.

The call ended.

I set my phone down. My heart felt like a lake sealed under winter ice.

How long had it been since we'd truly shared a meal?

Since we'd breathed in sync?

Since our wolves had reached for each other in the dark?

He kept telling me I couldn't think about breaking the bond.

But the truth was—

I had already been pushed out of his territory.

That weekend, I started packing.

One book at a time, I removed my things from the shelves and placed them into boxes, dismantling a life that had quietly died.

My phone rang.

Lyra. Cassius' mother.

I answered. "Hello."

"Come back," she said, her voice cool and precise. "About what we discussed—I believe it's time we formalized an agreement."

My grip tightened slightly. "Is that necessary?"

"Yes."

There was no explanation.

The former Luna didn't negotiate. She just commanded.

I glanced at the half-packed suitcase on the floor. "I'll come this afternoon."

"Noon," she corrected.

I paused. "...All right."

The line went dead.

I arrived at Obsidian Manor just before noon.

Dark clouds pressed low over the mountains. The wind carried a damp chill. Silver wolf-claw insignias were carved into the black stone walls—the mark of the Thunderclaw Pack.

The gatekeeper stiffened the moment I stepped out of the car.

My scent was nearly nonexistent.

That meant I didn't want attention.

But tension still coiled in his posture.

Technically, I was still the Alpha's mate.

The hallway stretched long and shadowed. Portraits of former Alphas lined the walls, their painted wolf eyes glinting in firelight.

Before I reached the main entrance—

A soft, crisp laugh drifted out.

"I won again, Cassius. Are you letting me win on purpose?"

My steps stopped.

His pheromones filled the air—dominant, unmistakable. But they were tangled with another scent.

Young. Bold. Deliberately sweet.

It was a declaration.

For a moment, my mind emptied.

Then it all made sense.

The gatekeeper's tension.

The hurried call.

The cancellation.

I t was all because that the Alpha was home, with another she-wolf.

A quiet laugh left my throat. Cold as frost.

I pushed the door open.

I had dressed simply. White shirt. Jeans. Hair pulled back. No jewelry.

But my scent was clean and controlled—like roses touched by first snow.

The scent that should have belonged to Luna.

Cassius looked up.

His pupils tightened instantly. "How did you—"

"Your mother asked me to come," I said evenly. "I thought you were in the North discussing alliance matters."

Silence pressed down.

His scent faltered.

He felt guilt, and I can smelled it.

The young woman rose from the sofa. She released the slightest hint of scent—not heavy, just enough.

She stepped toward me and extended her hand. "Hi. I'm Melody."

I walked past her without looking.

Her smile froze.

Lyra emerged from the inner hall, her scent sharp and cold, weighted with years of authority.

She took Melody's hand first.

"Did you enjoy yourself today, Melody? Make yourself at home."

The message was clear.

Only then did she glance at me.

"This is Estelle Miller, one of our company's executive managers. We have business to discuss."

My identity erased in her words.

Melody lifted her chin slightly. "Oh. So you're company staff."

The sweetness in the air thickened—victory.

I ignored her.

My gaze found Cassius.

I kept silent and waiting.

And he didn't correct it, didn't deny it.

In that silence, I understood.

It wasn't that he didn't know what happened.

He simply didn't care.

I withdrew my gaze and looked at Lyra. "You said we needed to discuss business. Let's do it here."

"Another time," she replied coolly. "Since you're already here, stay for dinner."

"No, thank you." I turned toward the door. "I have other matters to handle."

"Stop."

Her authority cracked through the room like thunder.

The former Luna's presence bore down on me, heavy and absolute.

"I asked you to stay for dinner. What exactly is that attitude?"

I stopped, turned,and met her eyes.

Inside me, my wolf rose—not in aggression, not in submission, just steady, calm.

"Fine," I said quietly. "I'll stay."

My gaze swept over all of them. A faint smile touched my lips.

"But don't regret it."