The Alpha’s Regret Under the Blood Moon

Elder Rowan studied her for a long moment after she promised to handle Nathanie herself. At last, his stern expression eased. “Very well,” he said, folding his hands atop the desk carved from ancient oak. “If Alpha Nathanie raises no objection, the Healing Council will not stand in your way.” Adriana inclined her head. “Thank you, Elder. I’ll speak to him. He’ll consent.” She gathered the blood-sealed parchment and stepped out of the council chamber with measured composure. The moment the heavy doors shut behind her, that composure cracked. Her confidence had been easy to display in front of the elder. Convincing Nathanie would not be so simple. The full-moon ceremony that would formally bind them as Alpha and Luna was barely a month away. The pack had already begun preparations. There had been a time when she had counted the days in anticipation. Now she counted them like a prisoner marking a cell wall. Just days ago, when she tried to discuss the ceremony, Nathanie had waved the subject aside. “The territory is overwhelmed with rogue attacks and border disputes,” he had said flatly. “We don’t need a grand mating ritual. We’ll mark the bond quietly before the elders and be done with it. There’s no need for spectacle.” She had swallowed her disappointment then, telling herself he was simply burdened by responsibility. Until that same night. Standing on the balcony outside their chamber, she had paused when she heard his voice drifting from the shadows below. “Don’t worry, Olivia,” he murmured softly. “There won’t be any ceremony. If I choose not to hold one, no one can compel me.” The tenderness in his tone had pierced deeper than any blade. In that instant, she understood. It wasn’t the pack’s unrest that made him refuse a public bond. It was Olivia. The realization left her strangely empty, as though something vital inside her had already been severed. Their engagement—if it could even be called that—felt like a hollow promise. Leaving the territory suddenly seemed less like escape and more like mercy. But would he allow it? Her thoughts tangled as she crossed the stone courtyard. Distracted, she failed to notice the solid figure stepping into her path. She collided with a broad chest and stumbled. A sharp cry escaped her as her ankle twisted painfully. She would have fallen if not for a strong arm circling her waist, pulling her upright. “What’s going on with you?” Nathanie’s deep voice cut through her haze. “I called your name three times. You didn’t even react.” Even after years at his side, being held so close still unsettled her. Heat crept into her cheeks as she met his steady gaze. There was no sign on his face that he knew she had just secured approval to leave him behind. “I was thinking about the infirmary,” she said lightly. “There’s been a lot to handle.” His eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing her answer, but he let it pass. Instead, he crouched in front of her, lifting the hem of her trousers to examine her swollen ankle. His fingers pressed carefully along the joint. She hissed at the sting. Without hesitation, he slid one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her as though she weighed nothing. “It’s not minor,” he said. “You’ve strained it badly. You shouldn’t be walking for a few days.” The courtyard guards glanced their way, and Adriana stiffened. “Put me down,” she whispered urgently. “People are watching.” He ignored her protest entirely and smacked her lightly on the hip when she tried to wriggle free. “Stop struggling. You’re injured.” Despite everything, her wolf reacted to his touch—an instinct she despised. He had only taken a few strides toward the infirmary when his communication crystal vibrated in his pocket. He paused, shifting her weight slightly as he answered. A bright, sugary voice floated from the device. “Nathanie? Are you at the manor? I think I’m coming down with something. Could you check on me? I feel terrible.” Olivia. Adriana didn’t need to see the name etched on the crystal to know. She watched his expression soften almost immediately, the stern Alpha replaced by something gentler. A small smile curved his lips. Adriana lowered her gaze and began counting silently in her head. One. Two. Three. Before she reached ten, he stopped walking. Carefully, almost reluctantly, he set her back on her feet. “There’s an urgent matter,” he said, avoiding her eyes as he steadied her briefly. “Someone at the manor needs me.” Of course they did. She forced a faint nod. “I understand,” she replied evenly. He hesitated for half a heartbeat, then turned and strode away, already issuing quiet instructions through the crystal. Adriana remained standing in the courtyard, her ankle throbbing, watching his retreating figure. The decision she had made in the council chamber no longer felt uncertain. If she left this territory, there would be nothing here holding her back.

Nathanie had already taken several strides away when he slowed. For a second, it seemed like he might come back. Instead, he half-turned, his expression distant. “You’re a healer, Adriana. It’s not that bad. You can treat it yourself, can’t you?” Not that bad? Only moments ago, he had insisted it was serious. Or maybe seriousness depended on who was hurt. A quiet laugh almost escaped her. In his world, some wolves bled gold. Others barely registered. The memory that surfaced next made her throat tighten. Years ago, during one lazy summer evening in the Alpha manor, she had sliced her finger while cutting fruit in the kitchen. It hadn’t even broken skin properly—just a thin red line across her nail. Nathanie had reacted as if she’d been gravely wounded. He had lifted her onto the couch, scolded her for being careless, and insisted on cleaning and wrapping the tiny cut himself. He had hovered for the rest of the night, refusing to let her move. Back then, she had believed that kind of care meant forever. Now, standing with a swelling ankle and watching him hesitate over whether she was worth the inconvenience, she felt something inside her quietly fracture. Her eyes stung. She turned her face away before he could see. As she shifted her weight, her gaze fell on the edge of his coat—one button missing. The sight dragged her back to another night. Just a week ago, the Healing Division had hosted a gathering in a neighboring territory. She had drunk more berry wine than she intended. By the time it ended, the roads were nearly empty, and the transport wolves had long since retired for the night. After waiting in the cold for what felt like hours, she finally used her communication stone. “Nathanie,” she had said, her words slightly blurred. “I can’t find a ride. Could you come get me?” On the other end, she could hear him running—his breathing steady, controlled. Olivia’s laughter drifted faintly in the background. “I’m out with Olivia,” he had replied briskly. “It’s late, and I can’t let her return alone. Wait a couple of hours. I’ll escort her back first. If you can’t wait, take whatever transport you find and tell me the cost.” He hadn’t even paused to consider that she had already said there was no transport available. Olivia’s safety had been immediate. Adriana’s had been optional. In the end, she walked. Twenty kilometers through dim forest paths, her heels blistered and her wolf exhausted. Headlights eventually cut through the darkness behind her—an expensive black Audi A8 gliding to a halt. Nathanie stepped out, furious. “Are you trying to be dramatic?” he snapped. “I circled the spot you mentioned three times. You weren’t there.” “I waited—I couldn’t—” she began. He didn’t let her finish. He grabbed her wrist, pulled her into the car, and slammed the door shut hard enough that something metallic scattered across the floor. Later, she realized one of the buttons from his coat had broken off during his outburst. From that night onward, she stopped telling herself stories. She knew where she stood. Forcing her thoughts back to the present, she looked at him calmly. “I’m part of the Healing Corps too,” she said gently. “I’ll manage. You should go. Don’t keep… whoever it is… waiting.” Whatever faint flicker of hesitation he might have had disappeared at her easy tone. He stepped forward, brushing a quick kiss against her forehead. “Alright. Rest. I’ll come by later.” The gesture felt routine—automatic. She nodded just as lightly. Without another glance, he turned and strode down the corridor toward the manor exit. Only after he vanished from sight did she lift her head fully. Her fingers moved instinctively to the corners of her eyes, wiping away the dampness before anyone could notice. She tried to count how many times he had left her mid-conversation for Olivia. She gave up halfway through. And Olivia’s sweet, breathy voice earlier? Any trained healer could tell it carried no trace of illness. There had been no weakness in her tone. Yet Nathanie always responded as though summoned by instinct. Adriana adjusted her balance and made her way back toward the infirmary wing, her limp pronounced now that the adrenaline had faded. A few pack members lounging near the entrance spotted her and grinned. “Well, Luna-to-be,” one of them called teasingly, “you and the Alpha need to save that energy for the full moon. Don’t overdo it during daylight hours.” Another chimed in, laughter in his voice. “Careful, Adriana. If our Alpha gets exhausted and can’t lead the next border patrol, the elders might hold you responsible.” She managed a tight smile and raised both hands in mock surrender. “It’s nothing like that,” she said, lifting her trouser leg slightly to reveal the swelling around her ankle. “I wasn’t watching where I was going and paid for it.” They chuckled sympathetically, their assumptions unchanged. Adriana lowered the fabric again and stepped inside her office. The door closed softly behind her. In the quiet, she allowed herself one long breath. Very soon, she told herself, none of this would matter anymore.

By the time Adriana finally sat down and peeled back the fabric around her ankle, the bruising had deepened into an angry shade of purple. The swelling was far worse than before. Walking on it earlier—out of stubbornness more than necessity—had clearly made it deteriorate. A sharp breath escaped Dr. Donovan, who was reviewing patient charts beside her. “That looks bad,” he muttered, then immediately waved over a passing nurse. “Go inform Alpha Reed. If his future Luna limps around like this and we ignored it, we’ll all hear about it later.” Adriana’s head snapped up. “No—wait, don’t call him—” But the nurse had already hurried down the corridor before she could finish. She exhaled, shoulders sagging. After a brief hesitation, she reached for her communication stone and sent Nathanie a message. [Someone noticed my ankle and sent a nurse to tell you. I tried to stop them. Please don’t make a fuss over it.] She stared at the screen afterward, waiting for the faint glow that would signal his reply. Nothing came. When the nurse returned several minutes later, her steps were slower this time. She avoided Adriana’s eyes at first. “Alpha Reed said he’s aware,” she began carefully. “But… Lady Olivia is in his office. They’re talking. He didn’t say he would come.” The room seemed to grow smaller. Adriana kept her gaze lowered, focusing on the edge of her desk as though the grain of the wood required intense study. “He must be occupied,” she said quietly. The words felt like they scraped her throat on the way out. Her stone vibrated in her palm. A voice message. She opened it almost instantly. Nathanie’s voice came through—steady, composed, distant. “Got it.” Two simple words. No concern. No question. No instruction to rest. Just acknowledgment. It felt as though every wolf in the infirmary could hear the emptiness in it. Before the silence grew too suffocating, the receptionist called out from the front. “Healer Adriana? A patient is requesting you.” The excuse came like a lifeline. “I’m coming,” she replied, rising too quickly and wincing as pain flared through her ankle. The need to escape the room—escape their sympathetic glances—felt painfully familiar. The last time she’d wanted to disappear this badly had been during her engagement feast. That evening had been meant to mark the formal announcement of her union with Nathanie before the pack elders. He had arrived late. Hours late. “Something urgent came up at the infirmary,” he had said, as though she hadn’t spent the entire evening answering polite but pointed questions alone. For her, it had been a milestone. For him, an afterthought. Later, whispers had reached her ears. He had been seen leaving the territory early that afternoon—with a woman. She hadn’t needed clarification. She knew. Now, adjusting her white healer’s coat over her shoulders, she forced herself forward despite the pain. The rest of the afternoon blurred into duty. Patients came and went. She cleaned wounds, prescribed herbs, issued instructions. She didn’t allow herself to think. Only when dusk settled beyond the infirmary windows did she finally sit back. As she stood, agony shot up her leg, nearly buckling her knees. She glanced down. The swelling had worsened, puffed and discolored. She hadn’t even treated it. A tired sigh left her lips as she lowered herself back into her chair. Nathanie had said he would pick her up. She decided to wait. The corridors gradually emptied. Voices faded. Night-shift wolves replaced the daytime staff. Still no sign of him. No message. No call. The silence pressed heavily against her chest. Finally, she pushed herself upright again, determination overriding sense. She would go to his office. She managed only a handful of steps before her ankle throbbed so violently that cold sweat broke across her skin. She leaned against the wall, breathing shallowly. This was pointless. With trembling fingers, she retrieved her communication stone and called him instead. He answered quickly. “Yes, Adriana?” His tone was calm—neutral, almost casual. For a second, she wondered if he truly didn’t remember. If the promise had meant so little. She swallowed, pride burning in her throat. “You told me earlier you’d come for me after your shift,” she said softly. “I’m still here.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. For several long seconds, all Adriana could hear was faint breathing. When Nathanie finally spoke again, his voice carried an edge of discomfort. “Adriana… I’m sorry. Something urgent came up at the manor, so I left earlier. Stay where you are. I’ll come back and get you.” As he spoke, she could hear movement in the background—plates clinking, chairs scraping lightly against the floor. Then Olivia’s bright, lively voice drifted clearly through the stone. “Nathanie! Dinner’s almost done. Where are you heading?” Adriana closed her eyes briefly and pressed her fingers against her temple. A thin, bitter smile curved her lips. “It’s fine,” she said evenly. “Don’t bother coming. I’ll handle it myself.” This time, his pause lasted barely a heartbeat. “…Alright,” he agreed. “Don’t rush. I made something special tonight. It’ll still be warm when you get back.” The call ended. Adriana remained standing in the dim corridor, the silence afterward heavier than the conversation itself. Her chest felt hollow, yet the ache inside only deepened. Her fingers brushed against the folded transfer contract tucked safely inside her coat pocket. How was she going to make him agree to her leaving the territory? Leaning her shoulder against the stone wall for support, she forced herself forward. Each step sent a sharp pulse of pain through her ankle. By the time she reached the main road outside the infirmary grounds, sweat had dampened her clothes despite the cool evening air. After what felt like forever, she managed to flag down a passing cab. The moment she sank into the seat, she realized just how drained she was. Her hands were clammy, her skin pale. The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Miss, you look unwell. Shouldn’t you call your boyfriend to pick you up?” Adriana let her head rest against the window, exhaling softly. A faint, humorless laugh slipped out. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Just a fiancé.” “Then call him,” the driver insisted gently. “You look like you might faint. No fiancé would want something happening to his mate.” She gave a quiet scoff, eyes fixed on the passing lights outside. “That would be nice. Unfortunately, he’s occupied… with someone else.” The driver frowned slightly before muttering, “That doesn’t sound very dependable.” She let out a soft chuckle. “Dependable?” she repeated. “I’d call it indifference.” Every detail of their upcoming mating ceremony—the invitations sent to allied packs, the arrangement of their shared quarters, the decorations for the hall—had been handled by her alone. When she once asked Nathanie for his thoughts, he had replied flatly, “You’re better at these things. Why ask me about every small decision? Handle it.” Yet when everything was arranged, he had found fault in nearly all of it. In the end, it was Olivia who adjusted the décor until he finally approved. Thinking about it now left Adriana feeling tired beyond measure. The cab pulled to a stop outside the Alpha manor. The distance from the gates to the main entrance was short—no more than a few hundred meters—but it took her nearly half an hour to cross it. Every step felt like walking through fire. When she finally reached the door, she reached instinctively for her keys. Her hand came up empty. She froze. Then she knocked. It took a while before the door opened. Nathanie stood there, his expression already edged with irritation. “Where are your keys?” he asked sharply. “Why do you keep knocking instead of letting yourself in?” Adriana didn’t answer immediately. She stepped inside slowly, the pain in her ankle forcing her to move with care. Only when she reached the living room did she set down her bag and retrieve her keyring. “My spare key?” she said calmly. “You removed it last week to give to Olivia. Don’t you remember?” His brows knit together as the memory surfaced. The annoyance faded slightly, replaced by a trace of awkwardness. “I’ve been overwhelmed lately,” he replied. “You could’ve just made another copy. You have time for that sort of thing.” Adriana offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She had long ago stopped expecting fairness. To Nathanie, anything concerning Olivia required immediate attention. Her needs could always wait. She moved toward the dining room, steadying herself against the wall. Olivia was already seated at the table. The moment she saw Adriana, she jumped up with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Adriana, you’re finally home!” Olivia chirped brightly, hurrying over and looping her arm through Adriana’s as if they were the closest of friends. She even stuck out her tongue playfully, her smile wide and innocent.

“I’m sorry, Adriana,” Olivia said brightly, though her tone carried only the faintest trace of guilt. “I was starving and couldn’t wait any longer.” She slipped her arm through Adriana’s and guided her toward the dining table as if everything were perfectly normal. Adriana’s steps were slow, her ankle throbbing with every shift of weight. When she reached the table, she stopped. The dishes were nearly empty—just scattered scraps and cooling plates left behind. Whatever had been “cooked specially” was long gone. She stared at the remains in silence. A dull ache spread through her chest, heavier than the pain in her ankle. Disappointment. Hurt. Something quieter and more humiliating beneath it. “It’s fine,” she said softly after a moment. “I’m not feeling great tonight. I’ll skip dinner. You two go ahead.” She turned before either of them could see her expression and began making her way toward the staircase, gripping the railing for balance. Behind her, Olivia’s voice rose in exaggerated concern. “Adriana? Are you upset because I didn’t wait for you?” Nathanie’s low chuckle followed. “You think too much,” he said, reaching out to pat Olivia’s head in an almost indulgent gesture. “She twisted her ankle earlier. She’s just uncomfortable.” The easy familiarity of it—the way his hand lingered in Olivia’s hair—made Adriana pause for a split second. She glanced back without meaning to. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something. In the end, she said nothing. Only a quiet exhale left her as she continued upstairs and shut herself inside the master bedroom. The silence there felt thicker. Her mind replayed the day against her will. Olivia’s single call had been enough for Nathanie to drop everything and rush home. Meanwhile, she had limped through the hospital alone, waited alone, returned alone. The comparison cut deep. She shook the thought away and focused on the practical problem—her ankle. Opening drawers and cabinets, she searched for the first-aid supplies. Minutes passed. Nothing. Eventually, she remembered the spare medical kit that had once been placed in the guest room. She made her way there slowly and crouched with difficulty to peer under the closet. There it was. Dusty. Forgotten. Inside, she found only a small bottle of iodine—expired. She hesitated, then took it anyway. As she carried it back to the master bedroom, she noticed the guest room looked recently cleaned. The bed neatly made. Fresh sheets. She didn’t let herself linger on that detail. Back in the bedroom, she sat carefully on the edge of the bed and rolled up her pant leg. The swelling had worsened. The skin stretched tight and angry. She dabbed the cotton with iodine and pressed it gently to her ankle. Pain exploded up her leg. A sharp gasp escaped her before she could stop it. “You shouldn’t be using that.” The sudden voice made her freeze. She looked up. Nathanie stood at the doorway, a fresh bottle of herbal liniment in his hand. “That iodine expired months ago,” he said, stepping inside. “Didn’t you check? You’re still so careless.” There was no real harshness in his tone—just quiet reproach. He crouched in front of her and reached toward her ankle. Instinctively, she pulled her foot back. His hand stilled. “Do you not want me touching you?” he asked evenly. In the dim lamplight, his expression was difficult to read. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear to avoid his gaze. “It’s not that,” she replied quietly. “Olivia’s downstairs. You should go keep her company. Just leave the liniment here. I can take care of it.” He watched her for a moment longer. Then, without warning, he caught her ankle and drew it firmly into his lap. The sudden movement made her wince. “Nathanie—” she protested, but the pain forced the rest of her words into a soft cry. He paused when he saw the full extent of the swelling. The faint irritation that had lingered on his face disappeared, replaced by something rarer. Regret. “…Sorry,” he said under his breath. The word stunned her. In three years, she could not remember hearing him apologize like that. Not when he had once left her doubled over in pain with a ruptured appendix because he had to attend a medical summit. Not when she later learned Olivia had been there that same day, introduced publicly as his protégée. But now—over a sprained ankle—he apologized. She almost laughed at the irony. “Since when do you say sorry?” she asked lightly, trying to keep her voice steady. He avoided her eyes, focusing instead on spreading the liniment carefully over her swollen skin. “I should’ve checked it earlier,” he admitted. “It’s worse than I thought.” The sincerity in his tone tugged at something fragile inside her. For a fleeting second, she felt the warmth she had once clung to. But it faded just as quickly. “It’s only a sprain,” she said with a faint smile. “It’s not worth an apology.” Yet as she spoke, she knew the apology wasn’t really about her ankle. And that was what hurt most.

Adriana knew how dangerous tenderness could be. If she allowed herself to soften now—if she clung to this small flicker of warmth—her resolve to leave the territory might crumble. She inhaled slowly, steadying herself. “Well,” she said lightly, forcing a teasing tone, “you’re the Alpha everyone has to schedule weeks in advance just to consult. Now you’re personally tending to me for free. I should feel honored. Most wolves can’t even get a proper appointment with you.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Nathanie’s hands paused for the briefest moment. His brows drew together faintly, as if he sensed something beneath her words. Was she mocking him? The thought irritated him more than he expected. He suppressed the feeling and resumed applying the liniment, his fingers firm but controlled as he worked around the swelling. Only after he finished rubbing the first layer into her skin did he finally speak. “Olivia’s place was broken into last night,” he said, voice calm. “I’ve arranged for her to stay here for a while. Just until things settle.” Adriana’s body went still. So that was it. The unusual patience earlier. The missing key. The guest room that had been freshly cleaned. None of it had been spontaneous. He had already planned everything. And only now was he informing her. A quiet understanding settled over her chest like frost. She considered objecting. For a split second, she imagined asking why he hadn’t discussed it with her first. But what would that change? “It’s your territory,” she replied after a moment, her tone even. “Handle it however you see fit.” Her compliance seemed to dissolve whatever explanation he had prepared. The tension in his shoulders eased. “You’re not bothered?” he asked, almost cautiously. She met his gaze. “No.” The answer came easily. Relief flickered across his face. He rose to his feet and placed the bottle of liniment beside her. “Reapply it gently in about half an hour,” he instructed. “I’ll go sit with Olivia. She’s downstairs alone.” Of course she was. “I’ll come back later,” he added. Adriana nodded faintly. Inside, she marked another tally. He had received reassurance. That was enough. He could leave without guilt. He reached the door and grasped the handle. Then he paused and glanced back. “Adriana,” he said, his tone shifting slightly, “Olivia is sensitive. Try not to behave so coldly around her next time. She might misunderstand.” She blinked. So that was it. Her quiet retreat upstairs had been impolite. Should she have stayed and shared their leftovers instead? Her fingers tightened around the liniment bottle until her knuckles paled. Still, she forced her lips into a polite curve. “I understand,” she replied softly. “Please apologize to her for me.” That seemed to satisfy him. He gave a small nod and left. The door closed with a soft click. The moment the sound echoed through the room, her composure shattered. Tears spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them. This was the wolf she had loved for three years. Her chosen mate. And yet, not once had she truly occupied the center of his heart. The throbbing in her ankle was nothing compared to the ache spreading through her chest. It felt as if her ribs were caving inward, crushing something fragile beneath them. When the time came to apply the liniment again, she did it herself. She didn’t expect him to return. Downstairs, faint laughter drifted up the staircase—light, easy, intimate. She lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling in the dim room, feeling colder than the night air outside. Eventually, thirst forced her to move. She pushed herself upright and made her way downstairs, gripping the railing as she descended. Each step sent a dull wave of pain up her leg. When she reached the kitchen and approached the water dispenser, she automatically reached for her usual cup. It wasn’t there. In its place sat a new porcelain mug—delicate, unfamiliar. She didn’t need to ask whose it was.

The porcelain cup sitting on the counter wasn’t random. It was part of a matching pair. One identical to the one Nathanie used every morning. “Adriana… I’m really sorry,” Olivia said softly, lifting the new cup with both hands. “I dropped yours earlier by accident. It shattered. If you don’t mind, you can use mine for now.” She smiled in that sweet, harmless way she had perfected over the years. Adriana looked at the cup without expression. She didn’t answer. Nathanie, however, spoke up before she could. “Olivia, don’t worry about it,” he said casually. “It’s just a cup. There are dozens in this house.” Just a cup. Adriana’s fingers curled at her sides. That cup had not been ordinary. It was the one they had used during their engagement ritual—the one they had raised together before the elders when their bond was announced. She had washed it herself every time. Kept it carefully on the highest shelf. To her, it had meant something. To him, it was replaceable. “It’s fine,” she said after a moment, her tone light. “I’ll grab a disposable one.” She poured herself some water, drank quietly, then returned upstairs without another word. Once inside the bedroom, she sat on the edge of the bed, her thoughts circling back to the transfer application tucked away in her drawer. The urgency inside her sharpened. If Nathanie refused to sign off on it as Alpha, the Council wouldn’t approve her departure. She needed to understand exactly where he stood. “Why are you still up?” His voice came from the doorway, pulling her from her thoughts. She quickly lifted her phone to her ear, as if she had been in the middle of a conversation. “Mm. Alright. I’ll ask him about it for you,” she said into the empty line before lowering the device. Then she looked at Nathanie casually. “You’re not asleep either. My ankle’s throbbing, so I was talking to someone from the infirmary to pass the time.” At the mention of her injury, something flickered across his face. He seemed to recall, belatedly, that he had said he would reapply the liniment. Without commenting on it, he stepped forward and pulled back the blanket, inspecting her ankle again. “The swelling’s gone down,” he observed. “Another few days of rest and it’ll be fine.” Then his gaze shifted to her phone. “Who were you speaking to?” he asked lightly. “You sounded pretty relaxed.” Adriana tightened her grip on the device. If he had looked closely, he would have noticed the dark screen—no call in progress. “Dr. Donovan,” she replied smoothly. “Everyone’s been talking about the overseas relief program. He was asking if you’d heard any updates.” Nathanie nodded, not questioning her. The program had indeed been a frequent topic at the infirmary. The initial volunteer numbers hadn’t met the quota, so the application window had been extended. “It’s not a short deployment,” he said thoughtfully. “But it’s useful for wolves who need credentials. Returning with international experience makes them stand out.” Adriana listened quietly, her heart steady despite the tension building inside her. “And what do you think?” she asked carefully. He didn’t hesitate. “You don’t need it,” he said flatly. “By the time you’d finish a term abroad, I could’ve already secured a higher position for you here.” There it was. The refusal she had expected. She exhaled softly, lowering her gaze. Of course. In his mind, her path should always run parallel to his. An old memory surfaced unbidden. In the past, when their arguments had spiraled, Nathanie’s temper had sometimes crossed lines. And afterward—perhaps out of guilt—he would soften, offering concessions to smooth things over. There had been one night in particular. Olivia had called, saying she’d cut her hand while preparing dinner. It was minor—barely more than a scratch. Adriana had asked Nathanie to stay. “Can’t someone else handle it?” she had said then, exhausted from her own shift. “It’s just a small wound.” He had gone anyway. But before he left, the argument had escalated. And when he returned later that night, anger still simmering beneath his calm exterior, he had struck her across the face. “If you hadn’t delayed me,” he had snapped, “Olivia wouldn’t have gotten hurt at all.” The words still rang clearly in her memory. As if she had been the cause. As if Olivia’s every misfortune could be traced back to her. Sitting now in the dim bedroom, Adriana looked at the wolf she had once believed was her future. And she wondered, not for the first time, how she had convinced herself that this was love.

In the past, whenever their arguments stretched into cold silence, it was always Nathanie who yielded first. After a few days of ignoring each other, he would eventually soften, writing a brief apology note just to bring things back to normal. Back then, Adriana had taken those gestures to heart. She had believed the effort meant he cared. Now, she understood something else. If a signed apology could once mend their relationship, perhaps a signature could also end it. “I don’t need you arranging my future,” she said lightly, a hint of challenge in her voice. “If I’m going to move up in rank, I’ll do it with my own abilities.” Nathanie let out a low laugh, clearly amused. To him, she sounded like a stubborn pup trying to prove herself. “Suit yourself,” he replied lazily as he reclined against the headboard. “Saves me the trouble. Just don’t come whining to me when no one notices your so-called talent. You might regret being so proud.” His tone was teasing, but beneath it lay something colder. Adriana heard it clearly. She held his gaze. “I won’t come to you. In fact, there’s something I want you to sign.” His brow lifted. “Sign what?” Without answering immediately, she stood and walked to the desk. Her movements were steady, though her palms were damp. She took out a blank sheet and began writing carefully: From this moment forward, Adriana Whitmore and Nathanie Reed shall maintain clear boundaries. Adriana assumes full responsibility for all her decisions and actions. Under no circumstances will her affairs involve or implicate any individual or authority. All consequences shall be borne solely by Adriana Whitmore. Signed: Nathanie Reed. When she finished, she brought the paper to him along with a pen. Her hands trembled slightly as she placed them on the bedside table. “Sign it.” Nathanie didn’t reach for it immediately. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. There was something different about her tonight—something he couldn’t quite define. “Why?” he asked evenly. She met his gaze without flinching. “What? Are you backing out already? Or are you afraid you’ll end up interfering behind my back?” She knew exactly where to press. Nathanie had always been sensitive about his pride. As expected, his expression darkened. “Have you forgotten who brought you into this territory’s infirmary?” he said sharply. “Without me, you’d still be in some remote settlement treating injured farmers and rogues. Don’t overestimate yourself.” The words cut deep. For a brief moment, it felt like something lodged in her throat. But she forced herself to remain calm. “Then prove it,” she replied coolly. “Sign. Let’s see whether I ever need you.” Her defiance seemed to dissolve his lingering doubts. With a faint scoff, he grabbed the pen. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll watch how long this independence lasts.” He signed his name in one swift stroke. The sound of pen against paper felt louder than it should have. Adriana watched the ink settle. A quiet sense of relief spread through her chest. Carefully, she folded the document and slipped it into her pocket as though it were something precious. She didn’t say the words aloud, but they echoed in her mind. This is the last thing I’ll ever ask of you. That signature wasn’t an apology. It was her release. --- The next morning, Adriana rose before dawn. The letter was still in her coat pocket, and for the first time in weeks, she felt something close to lightness. She dressed quietly and stepped outside toward Nathanie’s car, intending to take her usual place in the passenger seat. The window rolled down. Olivia’s face appeared instead, bright and smiling. “Adriana, sorry,” Olivia said sweetly. “I get motion sickness if I sit in the back. I have to take the front seat.” Her tone was innocent. Almost playful. Adriana paused. She knew for a fact Olivia had never had issues riding in the back. They had traveled together many times before. If anyone had struggled with motion sickness, it had always been Adriana. That was why she typically sat in front. But today, Olivia occupied that seat effortlessly, as though it had always belonged to her. As though she had every right to claim it.

Ever since Olivia began riding with them, the front passenger seat had quietly changed owners. It was no longer Adriana’s. She stood beside the car door, fingers still resting on the handle, when Nathanie’s voice cut through the still morning air. “Are you getting in or not?” he said impatiently. “If you’re not coming, then take a cab. Don’t waste time.” The words were blunt, stripped of any warmth. Adriana slowly released the handle. She stepped back from the car. “You two go ahead,” she said evenly. “I just remembered I left something inside.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked toward the manor, her movements steady despite the tightness in her chest. Only when the engine of the Audi A8 roared to life and faded into the distance did she stop. The parking courtyard was empty now. Dust hung faintly in the air. Two tears slipped down her face before she could stop them. This was the first time since joining the territory infirmary that she would be late. --- When she finally arrived at work, several colleagues looked up in surprise. “Adriana, how’s your ankle? Why are you here already?” “Did Alpha Reed make you come back so soon? He could’ve let you rest.” Their concern was sincere. She forced a small smile. “It’s much better. I didn’t want to fall behind.” She answered them gently, but her thoughts were far away. Nathanie had already driven off with Olivia. Whatever she did next had nothing to do with him. In that moment, an overwhelming clarity washed over her. She didn’t just want distance. She wanted out. Without hesitation, she turned and headed straight for the director’s office. When she placed the signed consent letter on the desk and presented her application for the overseas relief mission, the director scanned it briefly. With Nathanie’s signature there, there was nothing more to discuss. He signed the approval immediately. “Dr. Whitmore,” he said sincerely, “congratulations in advance. I hope you return safely.” Adriana nodded. For the first time in a long while, something inside her felt lighter. --- After leaving the hospital, she went straight to purchase a plane ticket. Then she returned home to pack. Three years with Nathanie had left surprisingly little behind. Most of what filled the manor belonged to him—or to memories she no longer wished to carry. Her suitcase was small. It barely filled halfway. A few simple garments. Essentials. Nothing more. As she set the suitcase by the door, she heard voices outside. The door opened. Nathanie walked in, Olivia at his side. Olivia’s arms were full of shopping bags—clearly new purchases. Adriana didn’t need to ask who had paid. “Adriana?” Olivia said brightly. “I didn’t expect you to be home so early. I would’ve brought you something too.” Nathanie cleared his throat awkwardly. “The season’s changing,” he said. “We’ll go out tomorrow and buy you some clothes.” Tomorrow. Adriana almost smiled at the irony. “I won’t need them,” she replied calmly. “As long as you’re both satisfied, that’s enough.” Her indifference seemed to irritate him. He frowned slightly, a faint scoff escaping his lips. Fine, his expression seemed to say. If she wanted to play cold, he could ignore her too. He decided then that he wouldn’t speak to her unless she came to him first. He didn’t realize that silence was exactly what she needed. --- The next day, Adriana did not show up at the infirmary. By afternoon, Dr. Donovan approached Nathanie. “Alpha Reed, have you heard from Adriana?” he asked. “She hasn’t reported in today.” Nathanie had been in the middle of a call with Olivia. The interruption clearly annoyed him. He waved dismissively. “She’s capable of handling herself,” he said coolly. “If she wants space, that’s her decision. She doesn’t appreciate me interfering.” Whenever he spoke of her lately, there was a sharpness to his tone. He clenched his jaw slightly, irritation simmering beneath the surface. Last night, she hadn’t spoken to him at all. Not one word. “Still,” Dr. Donovan ventured carefully, “shouldn’t you at least try contacting her? Just to make sure she’s alright?”