Wolves Can't Play

SIMONE

"Where are you, Leo?" I hissed into the phone, pacing the glasshouse until my heels clicked a nervous rhythm against the glass floor.

"Seriously, Leo. How long are you going to keep doing this to me?"

"I'm sorry, babe. I'll be right there, I promise. A minute." His voice crackled through the speaker, breathless, like he was already running.

"You said that thirty minutes ago."

"Simone"

"No. Don't. Just get here." I hung up before the soft, practiced apology in his voice could do what it always did.

I sat back down, staring at the candles burning low, the food going cold in its gold dishes. Five years ago tonight, Leo built this glasshouse with his own hands and bonded me under a full moon, in front of the entire André and Evergreen packs.

I remembered every second; the roar of the pack howling their approval, his teeth at my throat, the moonlight turning the glass walls to silver. Tonight marked our bond mate anniversary. I should have been glowing. Instead I sat alone, watching wax drip onto the tablecloth, a cold thread of doubt curling in my chest.

Alphas were busy. Pack business didn't wait, even for this. The thought sat wrong anyway, the way a lie always does, even the ones you tell yourself.

The door burst open twenty minutes later. Leo strode in, arms already spread for a hug, that easy grin on his face like the last half hour hadn't happened.

"I'm sorry, my Luna."

"You keep doing this. Every year."

"Relax." He said it like my anger was an inconvenience he'd already decided to ignore. "I wasn't going to forget our anniversary. I got you something."

He held out a small gift bag. I took it anyway, hating myself a little for it, hating him more for knowing I would.

I opened it and my breath caught. "The moon amulet. Leo, how did you even get this?"

"Made someone kneel at the sacred mounting for three years to earn it." He straightened, chest puffing the way it always did when he talked about his own power. "I'm Alpha Leo. Nothing's out of reach for me."

I let myself lean into him, the amulet cool against my palm, and told the doubt in my chest to be quiet for one night. "I made your favorite. Evergreen wolf soup, simmered under moonlight."

"You always remember." He kissed my temple.

We ate. We talked the way bonded mates were supposed to talk on their anniversary; soft words, old memories, his hand finding mine across the table.

He told the story of the night he'd first shifted in front of me, exaggerating the size of the buck he'd taken down until I laughed despite myself.

But every few minutes his eyes flicked to the phone lying face-down beside his plate, and each time, his jaw tightened a little more, the warmth in his voice thinning to nothing.

"Is everything okay?"

He startled, like he hadn't expected me to notice. "Yeah, don't worry about it."

I studied him a second longer, then let it go. Five years teaches you which doors not to push on.

"I wanted to ask you something. How you've been handling my pack members, the Evergreen pack..."

His phone buzzed against the table, and he was on his feet before I finished the sentence.

"Excuse me. I have to take this."

He walked out fast, already pressed to his ear before he cleared the doorway. He never left a call for later. He never looked at me like that, like he was bracing for something.

I sat there, my soup going cold for the second time, telling myself it was nothing. Alpha business. Nothing to do with me.

Then my eyes landed on the table where he'd been sitting.

A piece of paper, folded neatly, tucked half under his plate, like he'd forgotten it was there. Or like he hadn't meant to leave me alone with it long enough to notice.

I told myself not to touch it. A good Luna trusted her Alpha, and five years of loyalty should count for something.

I touched it anyway.

My fingers weren't steady as I unfolded it, the paper crackling too loud in the quiet glasshouse. My eyes moved down the page.

By the second line, my whole body had gone cold. Olivia.The name sat there in his handwriting, circled twice, next to a date I recognized, our anniversary, last year. The candlelight seemed to dim at the edges of my vision.

I read it again, willing it to say something different.

It didn't.

The door opened. Leo froze in the threshold, phone still in his hand, taking in my face, the paper trembling in my fist, something between heartbreak and murder carved into my expression.

"It's not what it looks like, Simone"

"Not what it looks like?" My voice came out low, shaking, nothing like the woman who'd laughed at his stories ten minutes ago. "Then tell me what it is. Tell me exactly what this is."

He stepped toward me, hand out, like he was approaching something wounded and unpredictable. Maybe he was.

"Just let me explain..."

He didn't get to finish.

A sound tore through the glasshouse, glass shattering, sharp and sudden, raining down in bright shards that caught the candlelight like falling stars. Someone had walked straight through the wall.

No one walked into this place. Not without Leo's permission. Not ever. Not even members of his own pack, or mine.

I turned, the paper still crushed in my fist, my heart slamming so hard I felt it in my throat.

The woman standing in the wreckage didn't smile so much as bare something at me, teeth, almost.

"Hello, Simone."

I knew that voice. I'd know it anywhere.

I turned toward her slowly, still half-blind with fury, still not understanding, not yet how deep this betrayal actually ran, or what my mate had already done behind my back while I sat here polishing an amulet like a fool.

It was Olivia.