Alpha's Worthless Remorse

As Thorn Pack's Luna, I was once the envy of countless werewolves. My love story with the handsome and powerful Alpha was considered a legend across Southspire.

But tonight, Jacob was nothing like the gentle, respectful man he used to be. He said I was rigid, lacking passion—like an ornamental figure collecting dust in the corner.

What shocked me more was his hand—the same hand that once traced my face with such tenderness—now slipping beneath Hazel's dress.

Hazel Rhea. The newly arrived Omega, young and full of restless energy. Her gaze brimmed with playful provocation. It was clear she knew exactly how to ignite his desire.

Yet, despite witnessing it with my own eyes, I felt nothing—no sharp ache, no burning sense of betrayal. The unique bond that should connect us as mates felt distant, as though it had quietly unraveled without me noticing.

Later that night, Jacob staggered back to the castle, reeking of alcohol, his friends propping him up on either side.

"Chloe, why are you still awake?" His voice was thick, edged with a forced warmth as he pulled me into his arms, laughing along with their jeers. He was worried the chill from outside might make me cold.

But it wasn't the cold that unsettled me. It was the overwhelming scent of perfume clinging to him—a sharp, cloying sweetness that didn't belong to me.

I pushed him away. He wasn't expecting it, and he stumbled to the floor.

"This smell," I said quietly, "is disgusting."

For a moment, panic flickered across his face before he smoothed it over with feigned calm.

"Oh, that? It's from the servants' new batch of liquor," he said lightly. "They love mixing flower petals into everything. Some must have spilled on me by accident."

Once, I would have believed him. If I hadn't overheard what he said about me tonight.

"The wine tonight was my own brew," I said, my voice steady. "Bloodwine. There were no flower petals."

Declan McGraw, one of his most loyal men, reacted first. Without hesitation, he grabbed his mate, Mindy Marrock, and slapped her across the face.

"It's your fault!" he barked. "Pushing your homemade flower wine on the Alpha—look what you've done now!"

Then, turning to me with a forced smile, he added, "I'm sorry, Luna. My mate insisted on offering her brew tonight. But the Alpha—he only drinks the wine you make. He was afraid you'd be upset."

The others quickly joined in, eager to smooth things over.

"Yes, Luna, the Alpha was worried you'd misunderstand."

"You'll never find a man more devoted to his mate," another chimed in.

Jacob, always quick to follow their lead, sighed and said, "Everything I have has always been under your Luna's care. From now on, no one is to touch my things without her permission."

They all held their breath, waiting for me to offer a smile, to forgive and forget, to play the gracious and understanding Luna.

But I didn't.

I lifted a finger and pointed at the faint smudge on his neck.

"Then tell me—whose lip print is this?"