My Alpha Said I’d Crawl Back in Three Days

On the night of our eighth anniversary, I cooked everything Ethan loved.

He didn't come home.

I sat alone at the table until the food went cold.

Then I did what I always did.

I opened Selene's profile on the pack network.

New post.

One hour ago.

A photo of Ethan, shirtless, building a fire in her den.

Her hand on his shoulder.

Her face turned toward the camera with a smile that showed too many teeth.

The caption read:

Grateful for old friends who drop everything when you need them. Even their marking anniversaries.

I stared at it until my eyes burned.

Then I liked it.

Filed the bond-dissolution request.

And started packing the trunk I'd kept ready for months.

Ethan didn't believe it when he found out.

"She's throwing a fit," I heard he told his packmates.

"Give her three days."

"I'll crook my finger and she'll come running back."

"She always does."

What he didn't understand was why I always came back.

It was because I loved him.

That was gone now.

On the night of our eighth anniversary, I cooked everything Ethan loved.

He didn't come home.

I sat alone at the table until the food went cold.

Then I did what I always did.

I opened Selene's profile on the pack network.

New post.

One hour ago.

A photo of Ethan, shirtless, building a fire in her den.

Her hand on his shoulder.

Her face turned toward the camera with a smile that showed too many teeth.

The caption read:

Grateful for old friends who drop everything when you need them. Even their marking anniversaries.

I stared at it until my eyes burned.

Then I liked it.

Filed the bond-dissolution request.

And started packing the trunk I'd kept ready for months.

Ethan didn't believe it when he found out.

"She's throwing a fit," I heard he told his packmates.

"Give her three days."

"I'll crook my finger and she'll come running back."

"She always does."

What he didn't understand was why I always came back.

It was because I loved him.

That was gone now.

...

The Blood Moon rose at dusk.

Elena stood at the window of the Voss Pack manor, watching it stain the eastern mountains red.

Eight years.

Tonight marked eight years since Ethan had marked her throat in this very room, his canines breaking skin while the pack howled their approval outside.

She touched the scar.

Still sensitive.

Still his.

The bond between them hummed — thin, distant, but present.

She reached for it the way she always did, seeking his mood, his location, the background warmth of their connection.

Cold.

He was cold.

And moving fast.

She didn't need to check her phone.

She felt him through the link — thirty miles east, heart rate elevated, the particular chemical signature of his wolf when it was hunting.

Or protecting.

Or with her.

Selene had returned three days ago.

The foster sister, presumed dead in the rogue attack that had devastated