LOGINFreya’s POV:
“This... this can't be real.” Tears welled up as I stumbled forward a step, my voice breaking the silence. “Tell me it's not what it looks like!" Mason cursed under his breath, hastily zipping up his pants while Selene casually adjusted her skirt, her expression smug rather than ashamed, as if she'd won some prize. Then he turned to me, his brown eyes cold and detached, nothing like the warm gaze that had once made me feel cherished. "Freya, what the hell are you doing here?” "How long?" I sobbed, the tears streaming down my cheeks now. "How long have you been doing this behind my back?” He remained silent, so I turned to Selene. “You told me to come here, because you wanted me to see this, didn't you?" Selene shrugged, crossing her arms with a smirk but I ignored her, focusing on Mason, my mate, the Alpha whose bond still pulsed faintly in my veins despite the agony. "Why did you do this to me?" He sighed heavily, running a hand through his disheveled hair, his muscular frame tense under his rumpled shirt. "I'm tired of being married to you, Freya. I should have listened to my mother when she warned me not to marry you. But I was blinded by infatuation, mistaking it for love, and I stupidly went ahead with it anyway." His words hit like a punch, each one knocking the air from my lungs as I shook my head, refusing to let it sink in. "No, Mason, you're just upset. You don't mean that. We've had our struggles, but…" "Along the line, I stopped being in love with you." He cut me off. "But I couldn't resist the urges from the mate bond and it kept pulling me back, making me sleep with you even when I didn't want to. At some point, though, my hatred became stronger than those urges. That's why I stopped coming home because I couldn't stand being around you anymore. Then I got close to Selene, and I realized she offers me things you could never give. And now... she's carrying my child, a child you couldn't provide." "No... no, that's not true.” I cried, stunned that Selene was also carrying his child. He shook his head, his expression hardening further. "I want a divorce, Freya. I can't force myself to stay married to you anymore. I've had the papers drawn up for a long time now, but I didn't know how to present them because you seemed so... pitiful and I felt sorry for you." ‘Pitiful?’ The word echoed in my mind as my legs gave way, and I fell to my knees on the cold office floor. “Mason, no... please, don't do this. I have nowhere to go if I lose you. We can work through this, please .” I pleaded, pathetically. He remained unfazed and unapologetic, with his arms crossed as he looked down at me with something akin to disgust. "Once you sign the papers, I'll compensate you wholly and you'll have enough money to start a perfect life out there, away from here.” "I don't want your money!" I yelled, clutching at his leg desperately, my nails digging into the fabric of his pants. "I want you! You're my entire life and my only family. Please, Mason, don't throw me away like this." Annoyed, he stepped back, shaking me off. "God, Freya, you're pathetic and weak, clinging to a man who doesn't want you anymore. This constant naivety of yours is exhausting, and that's why I chose Selene. She's smart, and strategic so she'll make a perfect Luna, unlike you." Hearing him compare me to her again, elevating her while grinding me into the dirt, ignited a fire in my veins that overrode the pain as I shot to my feet. "You bastard!” I snapped, lunging toward Selene, claws extending instinctively, ready to tear into her smirking face. But Mason grabbed me from behind, his grip ironclad around my waist, holding me back effortlessly. "Don't you dare, Freya. If you try to hurt Selene, I'll call the police on you right now. Do you understand?" That threat made it crystal clear that no matter how much I begged, fought, or reminded him of our past, Mason would never choose me because he didn't love me anymore; perhaps he never truly had. On realizing this, I went limp in his hold, the fight draining out of me as he released me, and I turned away, forcing the tears to stop as I gathered my handbag from the floor and made my way outside because I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me crumble further. The drive home was endless with my mind numb to everything but the ache in my chest. By the time I reached the Packhouse, I stumbled to our bedroom and collapsed onto the sheets that still smelled of him, sobbing until I fell asleep. But barely five minutes had passed when a loud banging on the door jolted me awake. Before I could react, the door burst open, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Elena stormed in, and marched straight to my wardrobe, yanked it open and pulled out my suitcase. “Mrs. Elena, what are you doing?" I sat up, rubbing my eyes, scared that Mason was sending me away tonight like some unwanted stray? But she didn't spare me a glance as she began stuffing my clothes into the suitcase. "You need to leave the Packhouse immediately, Luna. There's no time." Confused and terrified, I swung my legs over the bed, standing on shaky feet. "What? Why? What's happening? Did Mason order this?" Mrs. Elena paused briefly, zipping the half-full suitcase before meeting my gaze, her hazel eyes filled with pity. "Alpha Mason's mother just called to let me know that she would be arriving with a physician in the next hour to check if you're pregnant because she noticed that you had pregnancy symptoms the last time that she came.” I froze, my hand instinctively going to my belly. "But... How is that a problem?” She ignored my question, shaking her head as she grabbed more items and crammed them into the suitcase. "Listen to me, child. Alpha Mason is having an affair with your best friend, Selene." “How... how did you find out?" I asked, as the revelation slammed into me anew, though I'd just lived through the discovery. "That's not important right now." She snapped, her voice urgent as she closed the suitcase with a click. “What matters is that Selene's father is a powerful businessman who's partnered with Alphas and tycoons across the realm. He has the finances to bail out Mason, who's been struggling with money issues in the company and the pack. And his mother has given him the go-ahead to be with Selene, but Selene's one condition is that he divorces you first." I staggered back, leaning against the bedpost for support, as Mrs. Elena continued. “When it's confirmed you're pregnant, his mother plans to let you bear the children then get rid of you afterward so you don't cause further trouble. Which means that you are no longer safe here, so you have to go now.”The change didn’t announce itself loudly. It came quietly, almost suspiciously so, like something slipping back into place after being broken for too long. At first, I didn’t trust it. Not even a little. Because I had seen what the poison did to him when it was at its worst—the way it twisted through his body at night, the way it stole color from his face, the way even breathing seemed like a negotiation between pain and endurance. So when the nights started getting quieter, when the tension in his body began to ease, when his breathing no longer carried that sharp, broken edge, I kept waiting for it to return. But it didn’t. Instead, something else happened. He began to sleep. Properly. Deeply. Without the constant interruptions of pain dragging him back into consciousness. The first time I noticed it, I stayed seated longer than usual, just watching him, my fingers still hovering over the herbs I had been preparing out of habit. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm,
It didn’t happen all at once.It never does.It was gradual, almost unfairly subtle at first, like something shifting in the background of my life without asking for permission, like a sound you only notice after it has already been there for a long time.Dante and I were always together now.Always.Not because we chose it in any romantic sense, not because anything had been spoken or agreed upon between us, but because there was no other option that made sense anymore; his body still needed constant attention, and I was the only one who understood what was happening inside him, the only one who could stabilize what the poison tried to undo every night.So I stayed.And he allowed it.That was the strange part.Not resistance.Not dominance.Just… acceptance.And in that forced closeness, something else began to grow.Something neither of us had control over.At first, I thought I could manage it the same way I managed everything else in my life—by categorizing it, by analyzing it, b
If someone had told me weeks ago that I would be sitting at the edge of Dante’s bed night after night, watching the rise and fall of his chest like it was the only thing keeping me anchored, I would have laughed in their face and gone right back to my work without a second thought, because back then, our lives never overlapped in any real way.We lived under the same roof, yes, but that was where the connection ended.He was always gone.If not physically, then mentally.Dante existed in maps and war strategies, in whispered meetings with commanders, in long rides to territories that either needed to be secured or subdued, and even when he was in the Packhouse, his presence felt distant, like he was already halfway to the next battle before the current one had even settled.And I… I had my laboratory.That was my world.A contained, controlled space where things made sense, where results could be measured, where effort had direction, and where emotions didn’t interfere with outcomes;
It started as something I tried to ignore.At first, I told myself it was nothing more than proximity, nothing more than the effect of spending too many hours in the same room, breathing the same air, listening to the same uneven rhythm of his heartbeat as I worked tirelessly to keep him alive. I told myself it was exhaustion, that my body was simply reacting to stress, to fear, to the constant pressure sitting on my chest like a weight I couldn’t push off.But the truth had a way of slipping through the cracks of denial.And this truth was loud.It flickered in my chest at the most inconvenient moments—when I leaned over him to check his pulse, when my fingers brushed against his wrist just a second too long, when his voice, rough and low from pain, called my name in the quiet of the night. It wasn’t steady, not yet, but it was there. Alive. Growing.The mate bond.I hated it.I hated how my body recognized him before my mind could catch up, how something deep inside me responded to
Night was the worst part.Not because the Pack grew quiet, or because the corridors emptied and the world seemed to slow down into something almost peaceful, but because the moment the last of the noise faded, the poison stopped pretending.It moved.Not in a way I could see, not in a way anyone else would understand, but I felt it in the way his body reacted, in the way the control we maintained during the day slipped through our fingers the moment the suppression began to wear thin, like something inside him had been waiting patiently for the chance to take over again.The first time it happened, I thought I had done something wrong.By the third night, I understood.This wasn’t failure.This was the nature of it.“You should be asleep.”His voice came out strained, barely holding together, but still carrying that quiet authority he never seemed to lose, even when his body was clearly betraying him.I didn’t look up from where I sat beside the bed, my fingers already resting against
The first time it worked, I didn’t celebrate.I didn’t breathe easier.I didn’t even let myself feel relief.Because with something like this, relief was dangerous—it made you careless, it made you believe you had won when in truth you had only managed to hold the line a little longer.But I knew the moment I saw the change in him.Not dramatic.Not obvious.Just… controlled.His pulse didn’t dip the way it had been doing every few hours, his breathing held steady without that subtle drag beneath it, and the faint gray undertone that had been clinging to his skin for days finally began to lift, replaced by something closer to normal, something that wouldn’t draw attention if anyone looked too closely.That was all I needed.Not a cure.Not yet.Just something that kept the poison quiet.Something that made him look alive enough.“You’re staring,” he said, his voice low but steady, as he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve with slow, deliberate movements that told me he was still far from







