Thirty-Three Times My Alpha Left Me At The Altar

After my Luna Ceremony, my fated mate, Alpha Ryker, still hadn’t marked me.

He even crashed my victory feast—the one celebrating me ending the three-clan war in just eight hours—with his student, Isla, on his arm.

I fought back the crushing pain in my chest, the ache from a mate bond left incomplete. I watched Ryker walk toward me.

"Freya. You look stunning tonight." He gave me a routine kiss on the forehead.

Isla trailed behind him, her tone cruel as she showed off.

"Sorry to interrupt your celebration, Freya. But I finally had my 100th successful shift today. Ryker said we could celebrate it along with your party."

Her 100th shift?

Ryker was celebrating the most basic werewolf skill like it was a major victory.

Bile rose in my throat.

"Is that so? Congratulations," I said with a smile, my voice perfectly smooth.

The feast began, and the hall filled with guests.

Every important figure in the supernatural world wanted to talk to me. They wanted to know how I’d gotten three generations of enemies to make peace in just two days.

But my eyes were glued to the other side of the room.

Ryker was surrounded by a group of Alphas.

That included Marcus from the Eastern Lands—our biggest political rival, an ambitious wolf who wanted to swallow our pack whole.

"Freya is truly impressive," Marcus’s voice carried clearly across the room. "But I hear your bonding is still incomplete? That's... unusual."

My wolf snarled inside me.

It was a direct challenge.

Questioning a fated pair's bond was questioning our stability—and Ryker’s power.

I put down my glass, ready to walk over and shut him down.

But Ryker’s reaction froze me in place.

He didn't defend me.

Instead, he just shot Marcus a warning glare, then turned, picked up a glass of champagne, and handed it to Isla.

"Here's to your 100th shift."

Isla took the glass, her eyes filled with adoration.

Then, as everyone watched, they raised their glasses and drank as one.

The room fell silent before whispers erupted.

"Why is Ryker parading that girl around like she's his Luna?"

"Alpha Marcus was right. Maybe they're not going to bond after all."

The pain in my chest flared, sharp and blinding, like something inside me had finally shattered.

Amy appeared by my side, gripping my arm. "Freya?"

I took a deep breath, and I forced the mask of the perfect Luna back on.

"I'm fine."

I sipped my drink, but my mind drifted back three years.

Our pack was finally stable. Elder Thomas from the werewolf academy had invited Ryker back to teach a class on shifting.

He’d held me close then, his face full of reluctance.

"What's the point of teaching a bunch of pups at the academy? I want to be with my mate! I don't want to teach some stupid shifting class."

I’d kissed him back, playful.

"Elder Thomas helped us a lot when we were building this pack. Just think of it as paying him back."

He pressed me down, his kisses leaving marks all over my body.

"Fine, I'll go. Anything for you."

A month after he started at the academy, he began mentioning a student named Isla.

"Some pup from the South. Her wolf is pathetically weak. She's always whining about her shift. I'm so sick of it."

I had urged him to be patient. "If you train her well, maybe she can join our pack one day."

He just shook his head and kept kissing me.

Later, Isla became his "special student."

The one who "needed extra guidance." The "one hope" among the students he couldn't give up on.

I snapped out of the memory, watching Isla nestled against his side. A cold smirk touched my lips.

Normally, I would have thrown a fit by now.

But I was tired. So tired of waiting for him to bring up the bonding ceremony, waiting for him to keep his 33rd promise.

He’d just sworn to me two days ago that we would finally bond after this feast.

As the party wound down, true to form, Isla created another crisis.

She clutched her chest and fell to the floor, crying about her wolf acting up again, about how useless she was.

Ryker turned to me, his eyes full of that familiar apology.

"Freya, Isla's wolf is unstable again. I know we agreed to complete the marking tonight, but—"

"Go," I cut him off, my voice flat.

Ryker froze. "What?"

"I said go, Ryker."

He stared at me, searching for any trace of anger or disappointment. He found none.

My heart was already dead.

"You... you're really okay with this?"

"I am."

He let out a breath of relief and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for understanding. Tomorrow, we’ll go to the Moon Temple—"

"Whenever."

Ryker nodded and hurried away.

I listened to his footsteps fade down the hall, then pulled out my phone. I found the email I’d received three days ago.

"The Southern Alliance formally invites you to serve as our Chief Beta Advisor..."

The Southern Lands.

The one place Ryker had ever suffered a crushing defeat in a territory war. His greatest shame.

A second later, a new post popped up on the pack's feed. It was from Isla.

In the photo, she was wearing Ryker’s black jacket, sitting in his private study.

I knew that desk intimately—our Luna Ceremony photo sat right on the corner.

She had tagged me.

The caption read: "Thank you, Alpha, for calming my wolf. He gets so wild sometimes. @Freya #latenighttutoring #feelingsosafe"

I stared at the picture for two long minutes.

Then I clicked "Accept Offer" on the email.

Once I'm in the South, we'll never see each other again. And that's a promise.