Stole My Mate, Lost Her Name

I hung up after locking in the aerial dinner time.

Soon, I'd vanish from their lives—for good.

"Who was that?" Jack slid in behind me, arms at my waist.

"Just confirming our anniversary dinner."

"You're too sweet. Mating you was the best thing that ever happened to me." He kissed my cheek. "How about I bake your favorite cherry pie tonight?"

Seven years mated to Jack—always thoughtful, always polished. Like some perfect academic gentleman who never broke a rule.

Before me, Silvernorth knew him as a ghost—no drama, no dirt. Just clean lines and cold stares.

"Wyettta, you scored big," my bestie used to tease. "Jack Sterling's got discipline. Youngest prof with tenure, top herb professor, only mates once. What'd you do, hex him?"

I thought that soft side was just for me.

Then I found the journal.

That softness? Bought and paid for. To shield Rose.

"Oh, right. Family dinner tomorrow. Rose is carrying a pup." He dropped it like weather. "I'll swing by, bring a gift, congratulate her on that symposium win. No need for you to come—I'll be in and out."

"The symposium—"

"You don't need to go. Let's plan a getaway instead. Think about a pup of our own. You're stressed, babe. It's not good for your system."

Funny. For years, he said no pups. Claimed it would split the love he had for me. Said I was enough.

Now he's all in?

He just didn't want me outshining her.

I walked into the clinic. Crimson roses everywhere.

"What is this?"

"Anniversary surprise." Jack grinned like it meant something.

He gave me roses every holiday. I never liked them—especially not red.

Said they meant burning love.

Now I knew who that fire was for.

I smiled like I meant it. "Anniversary's in two days. You're early. I booked us an aerial dinner—day after tomorrow. Promise me you'll show."

"Of course. Wouldn't miss a night with you."

All that effort for a she-wolf he didn't even love. Must've been exhausting.

That night, I didn't sleep. Just lay there in his arms, staring at his profile—so calm, so sure.

His chest rose under my hand like nothing was wrong. I played with the pendant he never took off.

Caught the back by accident.

A rose. Tiny script beneath it: [To my dearest Rose Howell.]

That was it.

Something in me snapped clean.