The Third Wheel’s Return

    

    Eleanor

    

    THE diamond necklace trembled slightly between my fingers. I stared at it for a long moment before fastening it around my neck.

    Today was my third wedding anniversary.

    Three years since I had become Luna of the Belmont Pack. Three years since I had convinced myself that love would be enough. I glanced at the clock on the vanity.

    Eight o'clock.

    The anniversary dinner was supposed to begin at seven. Owen was late again. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. Maybe I should have expected it. After all, I had spent three years waiting for my husband.

    Waiting for him to come home. Waiting for him to notice me. Waiting for him to choose me.

    I stood in the entrance of our penthouse, the end of my midnight-blue dress feeling like a second skin. I had spent three hours getting ready. The table behind me was set for two: Wagyu steak, his favorite vintage red, and a hand-written letter detailing how I wanted us to start over. Truly start over.

    The elevator dinked. My heart did a nervous little flutter, the mate bond humming in my veins.

    "Owen?" I called out, a smile ready on my lips.

    The doors slid open. Owen stepped out, looking every bit the powerful Alpha of the Silver Crescent Pack, sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and eyes that usually held a storm. But he wasn’t alone.

    Susana was tucked under his arm, laughing at something he’d whispered. She looked up, her eyes widening in mock surprise when she saw me.

    "Oh, Eleanor! I didn't know you'd be up," Susana chirped. She wasn't just here; she was wearing the limited-edition Givenchy dress I’d seen in Owen’s shopping bag three days ago. I had thought it was my anniversary gift.

    My gaze dropped to Owen’s hand, resting firmly on her waist. "It’s our anniversary, Owen. Why is she here?"

    Owen’s expression hardened, that familiar wall of "Alpha logic" slamming down between us. "Susana’s apartment had a leak, Eleanor. I’m not going to let her stay in a hotel when we have four spare bedrooms. Don't start."

    "A leak? On our anniversary?" I felt the first sting of a bitter laugh in my throat. "She’s been back in the city for six hours and she already has a plumbing crisis?"

    "Eleanor, please," Susana stepped forward, her hand reaching out as if to touch my arm. I flinched back. "I told Owen I could handle it, but he insisted. He said the pack house is as much my home as it is yours. We’re family, remember?"

    "We are mates, Susana," I snapped, my wolf, Lyra, snarling behind my ribs. "There is no 'we' that includes you."

    Owen stepped between us, his Alpha aura flaring, a silent command for me to submit. It was a low blow. Using his power to silence his mate in favor of a 'friend.'

    "That’s enough," Owen said, his voice dropping an octave. "Susana is the new Head of Pack Relations. She’ll be staying with us indefinitely to coordinate the merger. Now, I’m exhausted. Susy, your bags are already in the guest suite."

    He started to walk past me, not even glancing at the candlelit table or the three years of my life I’d poured into his cup, only for him to let her drink it.

    "Owen," I said, my voice eerily calm.

    He paused, his back to me.

    "The dress. I saw the receipt in your car. It was meant for me, wasn't it?"

    He didn't turn around. "She needed something for the board meeting tomorrow. You have a closet full of clothes, Eleanor. Don't be greedy."

    He walked away. Susana lingered for a second, catching my eye. She didn't look guilty. She leaned in, whispering just loud enough for my wolf-ears to hear.

    "He might be your mate, Eleanor. But I’m his habit. And habits are much harder to break than bonds."

    She turned and followed him, leaving me standing in the dark, the smell of her expensive perfume choking the life out of my marriage.