Three years of desperate attempts to conceive with my mate had led to nothing but heartbreak. Month after month, hope had risen—only to be crushed into dust.

       Then, on an ordinary day, fate revealed its cruel truth.

       It started with a casual moment, a simple act—I took my daily folic acid supplement in front of my best friend, our Pack doctor. Her sharp eyes caught the bottle in my hand. Something in her expression shifted. Without a word, she snatched it away, her fingers tightening around it as her brows drew together.

       A second later, she crushed one of the pills into powder and brought it to her nose, her wolf instincts kicking in, detecting what mine had failed to notice for years.

       “This isn’t folic acid,” she said, her voice a low, dangerous growl. “It’s a fertility suppressant.”

       The world tilted beneath me. “That’s impossible.”

       But deep down, I already knew she wouldn’t lie. I sent the pills to the Pack Alchemist for testing, dread coiling in my stomach like a predator waiting to strike.

       The results confirmed my worst nightmare.

       For three years, I had been unknowingly taking fertility suppressants.

       And the one who had been feeding them to me? Alpha Dashiell Hargrove—my mate, my Alpha, my supposed protector. He had always been so gentle, so considerate, handing me a pill before every time we were together, whispering that it would help my body, that it would ensure a healthy pregnancy.

       A perfect mate. A perfect lie.

       Rage simmered beneath my skin, my wolf howling for justice. I was ready to confront him, ready to tear through the deception with my own fangs, when my phone vibrated.

       A message from our Pack’s social group chat.

       My stomach twisted as I saw the sender—Callista Wren, a Beta female who had always clung too close to my mate.

       Attached to her message was an image.

       A pregnancy test.

       Two bold, crimson lines.

       Then her words, laced with playful cruelty:

       [Alpha, let’s make a bet, shall we?]

       [Do you think I’ll give birth to a little Hargrove or a little Wren?]

       [I’m betting on a little Hargrove.]

       Silence thundered in my ears. My claws pricked the tips of my fingers, my wolf surging forward, thirsting for blood.

       Two minutes later, another message.

       [Oops, wrong chat! I can’t delete it now, so… let’s just pretend you didn’t see anything, okay?]

       A slow, bitter smile curved my lips. The last shred of restraint inside me snapped.

       With eerie calmness, I typed my response:

       [Give me a month. I’ll come with you.]

       A pause. The group chat stilled, as if the Pack itself had stopped breathing.

       Then, one by one, the messages poured in.

       [Congratulations!]

       [When did you two become mates? Why didn’t you tell us? We should celebrate!]

       Someone initiated a Pack Gifting—a sacred tradition. A show of unity. A mockery.

       Gifts and blessings flooded in. Callista hesitated for only a second before sending two shy emojis.

       [Thank you all for your blessings. Please, don’t make a big deal out of it. Just pretend you didn’t see anything.]

       Pretend? How ironic. This chat was filled with Alpha Dashiell’s old packmates—the same ones who had once greeted me with wary eyes when he first brought me around, introducing me with a single word: friend.

       [Introduce her then! Maybe one of us single guys will get lucky,] someone had joked that day.

       Dashiell had said nothing. And neither had I.

       I had never belonged here. I had always been an outsider, watching from the edges, tolerated but never embraced. Even Callista had barely spared me a glance back then—just another Omega, insignificant in her eyes.

       [You all act like you’ve never seen a female before. Go find your own,] Dashiell had laughed back then, brushing it off.

       Our Packs—Hargrove and Gardner—were both powerful, our bloodlines strong. Our union should have been celebrated. Our families had planned a grand mating ceremony, a glorious event worthy of our lineage.

       But Dashiell had dismissed it.

       “I’m at a crucial point in my Alpha career,” he had said. “I don’t have time for a big ceremony. Not even a small one. Let’s postpone it.”

       Postpone. A month became a year. Then another. Five years passed. And I had stopped hoping altogether.

       Even now, his packmates still didn’t know he was bonded. But they all knew about Callista—the Beta female who had once been his golden girl in college, his ‘best friend.’

       My phone buzzed relentlessly, the screen illuminating the darkness of my clenched fist.

       I stared at it, my vision sharp with unshed tears. But I refused to cry. The pain was there, festering, but it would not break me. Not this time.

       For a single, foolish second, I hoped—hoped that Dashiell would step in. That he would deny it. That he would call it a mistake. That he would fight for me.

       But he didn’t.

       Instead, his packmates laughed and cheered, tagging him with playful jeers.

       And still, he said nothing.

       Then, finally, Callista sent one last message.

       [Thanks again, everyone. Consider this a small meeting gift for the pup.]

       [Once the pup is born, we’ll all get together to celebrate.]

       The last remnants of my bond to him disintegrated.

       Something inside me shifted, snapping like a chain breaking under the force of a beast too wild to be tamed.

       Fine.

       If they wanted a celebration, I’d give them one to remember.