Don’t Come Looking for Me, My Mate

One year after my death, our Alumni Reunion was about to be held.

When the news broke that Shawn, now the Lycan King, would be attending, the entire alumni group lit up with excitement.

In the Pack Academy Alumni Chat, hundreds of old classmates were messaging nonstop — chatter, emojis, even old photos being dug up.

But I remained silent.

Not because I was shy.

Not because I had nothing to say.

But because I was dead — and the dead don't get to hold phones or join group chats.

The room I had lived in before my death remained untouched, frozen in time. The curtains still hung the way I had left them. The air still carried a faint trace of my scent.

And on the desk — the dried herbs I had prepared to resist silver poison still lay scattered, as if I might return at any moment.

But I wouldn't.

On the day of the Alumni Reunion, my soul drifted to the place where they were celebrating.

It was a grand werewolf hotel, spacious enough to host hundreds of wolves from different packs.

Invisible, silent, I hovered inside — watching as they arrived, one by one.

Then suddenly, something pulled me in.

My gaze was drawn to the last one to walk through the doors.

And the moment I saw him, my breath caught — or would have, if I still had lungs. My heart — or whatever was left of it — began to race uncontrollably.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, every inch of him radiating strength and power.

Shawn.

Dressed in a tailored, luxurious suit that spoke of quiet prestige and untouchable status. He looked calm, confident... devastatingly composed.

My eyes clung to him, refusing to look away — even though I knew I no longer had a place in his world.

And then —

She appeared.

A stunning she-wolf stepped through the entrance, her arm slipping naturally through his.

Her smile was radiant.

His eyes softened.

And just like that, reality struck again — brutal and cold.

"Shawn, are these all your alumni?"

He nodded, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

My breath — if I still had one — stopped.

As expected, the entire reunion revolved around him. Everyone surrounded Shawn, flattering him, laughing too loudly at his jokes.

He was the center of it all.

Just like he had always been.

Then, suddenly, someone glanced around the crowded room and raised a question — casually, but it landed like a knife.

"So... Kendra's the only one missing?"

"Who knows where she is? She practically vanished after graduation five years ago."

"Exactly. I mean, Shawn — the Lycan King — appears in the news all the time. But Kendra? She's like a ghost. Mysterious as hell. Maybe she's been claimed by some powerful alpha and just disappeared."

Their voices overlapped, opinions flying everywhere like careless daggers.

And then, Elizabeth — who had been silent the whole time, calmly sipping her wine — finally spoke.

"Nonsense," she said coldly. "How could she be claimed by an alpha? She's working — serving alphas, not being claimed by one."

"She's working as a werewolf flight attendant for an airline now. She's just... busy."

Elizabeth was gorgeous as always, dressed in elegance, her voice steady. She had mated with a beta last year — a good match, everyone said.

"Did you see her there?"

The question sparked a flurry of curiosity. One by one, they leaned in, hungry for gossip.

"A flight attendant? What a fast-track way to get close to alphas — especially with that airline aiming at prestigious wolves. She's always been... ‘smart' like that."

"Which airline is it? Can't believe I've never run into her before."

Elizabeth smirked, slowly setting down her glass.

"FullMoon Airways."

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

"Wow, FullMoon's famous for its gorgeous attendants and handsome stewards."

"Absolutely. I heard many of their attendants have been claimed by single alphas. It's practically a mating hub in the sky."

As the name FullMoon Airways echoed again, my soul drifted to where Shawn sat at the center of the hall.

His expression had darkened.

He didn't speak — but the glass in his hand trembled slightly. His claws began to emerge, scraping faintly against the glass.

His wolf was rising.

Barely restrained.

Luke, seated beside him, clearly noticed the shift. With a forced smile, he lifted his glass and smoothly cut in:

"Shawn, not everyone is worth remembering."

But Shawn didn't move.

He sat there, as if frozen in time, eyes unfocused — trapped in some memory no one else could reach.

The room fell silent.

One by one, the laughter died.

No one dared to breathe.

His beautiful mate, seated quietly beside him, looked slightly embarrassed. She gently reached for his hand, her touch soft, almost hesitant.

A few seconds later, Shawn seemed to return to himself.

He lifted his glass, tapped it lightly against Luke's, and forced a thin smile.

"I've forgotten for far too long," he said, voice low.

Then he took a slow sip of wine and tightened his grip on his mate's hand.

"There's something I forgot to mention."

He stood, eyes scanning the room that had fallen silent again.

"Next month, I'll be holding my bonding ceremony."

A pause.

"I hope all of you—my dear alumni—will come and witness the ritual at the Sacred Temple."

A murmur of surprise and applause followed.

But I, the invisible soul floating just above them, lowered my head in silence.

Forgotten.

Again.