Chapter 1My Alpha mate and I were supposed to spend Thanksgiving at my parents' den this year.
We were heading out the door when he stopped. "Oh, I forgot to switch the delivery address. The package went to Violet's again."
Three years as his mate, and he'd never once updated the default address.
The microwave I ordered? Delivered to his ex-she-wolf. He shrugged and said hers had just broken, anyway.
My anniversary gift? She signed for it. He said it would be too awkward to ask for it back.
The Valentine's roses he promised me? Sent straight to her door.
He told me he couldn't give me flowers meant for me if they'd already been delivered to her. So he let her keep them.
This time, I'd warned him two weeks ahead. I picked out the Thanksgiving gift box myself and reminded him twice.
It still ended up at her place.
I kept my voice steady, even though my claws were itching to break skin. "GO GET IT BACK. Right now."
His jaw tightened. "She already opened it, Phoebe. What am I supposed to do? We'll just grab something on the way."
"Get. It. Back."
"God, why do you always have to blow everything out of proportion? You're exhausting."
That line. Every single time something landed at his ex's apartment and I asked him to fix it, that was what I got.
My claws dug into my palms as the front door slammed behind him. A low growl rumbled in my chest, but I swallowed it down.
I furiously wiped my cheeks and texted my pack lawyer.
[Happy Thanksgiving. I know this is a holiday, but I need you to draft a bond-dissolution agreement.]
...
I grabbed replacement gifts and drove to my parents' den alone.
They noticed right away.
"Where's Silas? Weren't you two coming together?"
"Everything okay, pup?"
I forced a smile. "Sorry, he got called into pack business at the last minute. You know how it is."
They nodded. "Well, duty is duty."
But I was already looking at my phone.
Violet had posted. Nine photos. One caption.
[The Thanksgiving surprise he put together just for me. He's the best.]
The artisan pie box I'd spent weeks researching - unboxed, baked, and laid out on her table like she'd made them herself. Arranged on pretty dishes. A full spread.
In one photo, a pair of hands was pulling a pie apart. Long fingers, bony knuckles, a scar on the right thumb.
Silas Ashford's hands.
And on his left ring finger - nothing.
No mating band. No faded mark. Not even a tan line.
Our mutual pack friends flooded the comments.
[omg you two need to just get mated already!!]
I liked the post.
Silas's texts hit within minutes.
[Phoebe, you kicked me out on a holiday. What was I supposed to do, starve?]
[Liking her post? Really? It's bad enough when you pull this drama with me, but dragging Vivi into it? You want everyone to think we're a joke?]
Every message pointed the claw at me.
All I did was tap a heart on a post.
What about him?
He called her Vivi - warm and familiar, like the name still belonged in his mouth.
He called me Phoebe. That was it.
I brought it up once. He barely looked up. "It's just a name. I'm used to it."
"Why do you have to make everything into a thing?"
I scrolled back through our chats.
[Hey, where's my iced caramel macchiato? It's been two hours. Did the driver get lost?]
[Forgot to change the address. It went to Vivi's.]
[Can you please change the default address already? And delete her address?]
[It's one coffee, Phoebe. Why are you being so dramatic? Just order another one yourself. This is embarrassing.]
He was the one who promised to send me that drink. I waited two hours. Then got blamed for asking where it was.
I scrolled further.
[Silas, it's almost midnight. Valentine's Day is basically over. Where's the surprise you promised me?]
[Forgot to change the address. It went to Vivi's. I'll make it up to you.]
I couldn't pinpoint when it started.
But somewhere along the way, this became the only conversation we ever had.
Packages. Deliveries. Wrong address. Always her.
We'd planned a year ago to spend this Thanksgiving together at my parents' den. He sent their gifts to Violet by mistake. Then followed the gifts right through her door and spent the holiday there too.
I stared at the photo. Silas's bare finger.
My wolf whimpered low in my chest. I felt pathetic.
Maybe none of it was an accident. Maybe the wrong address was never wrong. Maybe everything was always going exactly where he wanted it to go.
She wasn't the mistake.
I was.
My phone buzzed.
The lawyer.
[Hi, Phoebe. Happy Thanksgiving. I've drafted the dissolution papers and attached them.]
I said goodbye to my parents, drove home, and printed the papers.
I was about to sign when Silas walked in, two shopping bags in hand.
"Those pies are nothing special. You can get them anywhere. I went back and got the clothes I bought your parents. That's what actually matters."
"My bad. Let me take you somewhere nice tonight. That French place. Sound good?"
I didn't correct him. You couldn't get those pies just anywhere. I chose that bakery specifically because my parents have health issues, and they were the only ones who accommodated their strict dietary needs.
But I didn't say any of that.
I also didn't tell him I hate French food.
I'd told him before. A dozen times.
He never listened. He never would. And if I reminded him now, I'd just be dramatic again.
It didn't matter anymore.
Chapter 2
I tore open the bags with my claws.
Every piece had already been unwrapped. Tags ripped off. And on the beige pants, there was a faint smear of pie filling someone had tried - and failed - to wipe away.
Dried now. Impossible to miss.
No way to return any of it.
I stared at that stain. It looked about right. A perfect match for the last three years of my life as his mate.
"Why are these open?"
Silas's ears flattened. His voice softened, almost coaxing. "Vivi got the package. She assumed it was for her, so she just opened it..."
"So she opened them. Got food on them. And you brought them back for my parents."
He bared his teeth. "They're already open! What do you want me to do? The tags are gone. I can't return them."
"They're in your parents' sizes. Nobody else can wear them."
"If you don't want to give them to your parents, then throw them out. Happy?"
Nobody else can wear them.
I didn't need to ask who he meant by "nobody else."
They didn't fit anyone at Violet's. That was the only reason they came back.
If they had fit, they would have disappeared - just like every other package that ended up at her den and never came home.
I shoved the clothes back into the bags and held them out.
"You deal with it."
I turned toward the study.
His voice caught me in the hallway. "Can you stop? I went out of my way and booked a nice French restaurant tonight. For you. To apologize."
"It's a holiday, Phoebe. Can we not fight about every little thing?"
He pulled me out the door before I could answer.
But when we got to the table, someone was already sitting there.
Violet.
Fitted dress. Strappy heels. Full makeup. Every detail deliberate, down to the last curl.
And me - dragged out of my own den by Silas - in an oversized tee and joggers, hair twisted up in a claw clip.
I might as well have wandered in off the street.
Silas in his blazer, Violet in her dress. They looked like the real pair. I looked like I'd crashed their date.
My wolf bristled. My claws itched to extend.
I didn't ask why Violet was already seated at the restaurant he'd booked to apologize to me.
He sat me down and launched into his explanation. "Vivi can't go home for the holiday. She's been dying to try this place, so I told her to come."
"She's alone for the holidays, Phoebe. Cut her some slack."
I looked at him.
Before we bonded, he told me himself that his ex-she-wolf was six months older than me.
And now he was calling her "just a pup" and asking me to be the bigger wolf.
Whether he'd genuinely forgotten or just didn't care - I was done trying to figure out the difference.
He forgot that I loathed French food.
But he remembered exactly where Violet had been dying to eat.
I didn't bother asking who this reservation was actually for.
The answer wouldn't have changed anything.
I sat across from them and watched.
They shared a menu, shoulders almost touching, heads bent together like I wasn't there.
"Sil, you love macarons. We have to get some."
"Good memory. Let's get two orders."
"Ooh, the escargot looks amazing."
"I knew you'd pick that! This place has the best escargot in the city. You're going to love it."
They handed the menu back to the waiter, and only then seemed to remember I existed.
Silas cleared his throat. "We ordered enough for three."
Violet gave me a bright, practiced smile. "Sorry, Phoebe. Once Sil and I start talking about food, we kind of forget everything else."
Sil.
The name landed somewhere behind my ribs. My wolf whimpered low.
Two years of dating. Three years as his mate. He and Violet had been broken up for almost six years.
She still called him Sil. He never corrected her.
And the one time I tried it - just being playful - he made a face. Told me it was cringy. Told me it didn't sound right coming from me.
Said it gave him the ick.
My claws dug into my thigh under the table.
The food arrived.
Escargot. Foie gras. Oysters. Mussels.
And a beautifully plated poached salmon.
I didn't touch my fork.
Across from me, Violet lit up with every plate. A little gasp. A little bounce. Fork already in hand before the dish hit the table.
Silas cut the foie gras and slid a piece onto her plate without being asked.
She beamed at him. "You're too sweet."
Then he glanced at me. Frowned. "The salmon's here. The one you love. Why aren't you eating?"
My voice came out flat. "I'm allergic to seafood. I've never eaten salmon."
He went still.
Chapter 3
A second later, his expression shifted into blame.
"I forgot. Why didn't you say something earlier?"
"It's not like there's nothing else you can eat. There's beef carpaccio right there."
I didn't eat raw meat either.
Silas used to know that. I didn't know when he'd stopped caring to remember anything about me at all.
My wolf went quiet. Not angry. Just done.
I sat there and couldn't think of a single reason to stay.
I stood up and walked out.
Behind me, Violet's voice - all sweet concern: "Is Phoebe okay?"
Silas barely lowered his voice, not even bothering to hide his irritation. "She does this every time. Always has to kill the mood. Just ignore her. Let's eat."
My claws sliced into my palm as I pushed through the door.
I walked out of the restaurant alone.
This time, I was done pretending.
The first thing I did was send my resignation email to the pack's office. Then I started packing.
I began with the study. Silas's duties kept him at the pack headquarters, so he never used this room. The books, the paintings, the notes - all mine.
My wolf approved. She could already scent the freedom.
I was halfway through when Silas came home.
The smile he came in with vanished the second he saw me. His ears went flat.
"Phoebe, what is wrong with you? It's a holiday, and all you've done since this morning is pick fights."
"Are you just trying to make everyone miserable today?"
Unbelievable.
Even now, standing in the doorway and watching me pack, he was still making me the problem. Still saying I was the one ruining things.
My wolf bared her teeth internally. I held it down.
I didn't have the energy to argue.
"Silas, let's dissolve the bond."
The words had barely left my mouth when his phone rang.
Violet's ringtone. A bright, bouncy melody. Every other call came through on factory default. He always said he was too lazy to bother with ringtones.
But Violet got one.
Three years as his mate. Three phones he'd gone through. And every single time, the first thing he did with a new one was reassign that exact ringtone to her number.
I asked him about it once. He said it was just a song he'd had since college. Old habit.
I found out later it had always been hers.
He picked up without a second's hesitation. His wolf's ears perked forward, his scent shifting the instant he heard her voice.
I couldn't hear what she said, but he was already turning toward the door.
"Don't worry. I'm on my way."
The door slammed behind him.
He didn't hear me ask for the bond to end. Or maybe he did, and he just didn't care.
I stood in the empty living room and let it land.
Maybe this bond had been wrong from the start.
The ringtone that had only ever been hers. The delivery address he never once changed. Every gift, every package, every small thing meant for me or my parents - all rerouted to Violet like that was where it had always belonged.
And I had blinded myself to it.
I kept waiting. Kept telling myself that one day he'd notice. He'd wake up. He'd change.
Nothing ever changed.
Three years of my life. Gone. And I was the only one who didn't see it.
My wolf let out a low, mournful howl inside my chest. I let her. No one else could hear it anyway.
I finished packing the study, showered, and went to bed.
It was almost one in the morning when Silas finally texted.
[Vivi had an emergency. Not coming home tonight.]
I didn't reply. I locked my phone, closed my eyes, and fell asleep. My wolf curled into a tight ball and didn't dream.
The next morning, I started packing the clothes and toiletries.
I hadn't realized how little I actually owned until I tried to pack everything.
Three years of packages rerouted to Violet's den had quietly hollowed out my life.
And I'd let it happen. Out of stubborn, wounded pride, I'd refused to replace anything he sent to her.
Matching slippers he'd ordered for us? Gone to Violet's and never replaced.
Matching loungewear? Same.
Little things I'd picked out on a whim - planters, knickknacks that caught my eye - all of it vanished into her den while I told myself I wouldn't be the one to buy them twice.
My wolf snarled at the memory.
The two electric toothbrushes on the bathroom counter were the perfect example.
Ugly. Barely functional. Identical drugstore models.
When we first bonded, I spent weeks researching the perfect electric toothbrush - great features, sleek design. I was about to order when Silas said he'd take care of it.
It went to Violet's. Obviously.
I asked him to get it back. He refused. So out of pure spite, I walked into the nearest store and grabbed two of the cheapest ones on the shelf. I stuck a waterproof sticker on mine so we could tell them apart.
And I refused to buy better ones. On principle.
I told myself that every morning, when he picked up that cheap, ugly toothbrush, he'd notice. He'd feel guilty. He'd remember why we had them and finally buy the ones I actually wanted.
That toothbrush model had been discontinued and replaced three times over. He never noticed.
We were still using them.
I looked at the two toothbrushes sitting side by side on the sink. My claws extended. I swept them both into the trash.
The clatter felt like a closing door.
I was almost done packing when Silas called.
"That bonus I told you about came through. My team is making me take everyone out to dinner to celebrate. You should come. I'll text you the address."
I was about to say no.
Then he added, "Mom and Dad are coming too. Don't be late."
I paused. Swallowed the refusal.
If I was really going through with the bond dissolution, I owed his parents a conversation. Face to face. Pack elders deserved that much.
The movers came. I watched them load the last box and sent everything to my parents' den. I called my mom, told her boxes were on the way, and that I'd explain everything when I got there.
Then I stood in the doorway and looked back at the den one last time.
Three years in this place. Three years of wrong addresses, wrong priorities, wrong wolf.
My wolf lifted her head and howled - silent, but final.
I closed the door.
And didn't look back.
