Rejected Mate’s Final Winter

The snowstorm howled outside as I stumbled into the packhouse, my body numb from the cold. Celia had locked me in the car, leaving me to freeze while she celebrated Ivan Black’s birthday. I almost didn’t make it home, but here I was, half-dead and shivering. The hallway was a mess—clothes scattered everywhere, on the sofa, on the floor, in every corner. Even the bedroom had been claimed by them. I stood outside the door, listening to Celia’s fervent whispers:

"Ivan, I wish I could be your mate. I love you so much."

A bitter laugh escaped me. In the past, I would’ve barged in, using my Alpha tone to command them to stop. But now, I simply turned to the kitchen to bake some spiced honey cake. Six years of loving Celia had drained me of any fight.

The aroma of the cake filled the air, but its warmth couldn’t touch the chill in my heart. I curled up on the sofa, my fingers nearly frozen, unable to draw warmth from the dessert. The sound of the bedroom door opening shattered the silence. Celia and Ivan emerged, their faces smug and satisfied. Ivan, a Delta from the Crimson Fang Pack, wore nothing but boxers, flaunting his physique without a care. As for Celia, my mate and the former healer of the Silver Moon Pack, she hadn’t bothered to dress.

Ivan raised an eyebrow when he saw me, a smirk on his lips. Celia nonchalantly nudged him, "Go wait for me inside; I'll handle this." Ivan chuckled softly and obeyed, retreating to the bedroom.

Celia turned to face me, her expression devoid of guilt. She glanced at me carelessly, her tone flat, "You’re home?"

I set down the dessert, my gaze lingering on her bare body for a moment, then turned to the window, where the city lay buried under the snowstorm. My heart felt as cold and lifeless as the landscape outside.

She gracefully seated herself by the sofa and lit a cigarette. "I told you it was Ivan’s birthday. Why did you have to come and spoil it for everyone?" She puffed out a cloud of smoke, her tone edged with annoyance.

I watched her, feeling utterly drained. The first time I caught them together, Celia had been frantic, tears brimming in her eyes. "You know, Ivan has been my unfulfilled dream since my youth. I won’t be with him; I just need to have him. If you disagree, we can sever the mate bond." Her eyes were cold and stubborn, and Ivan was her unattainable love, much like she was mine.

Her family had fallen from grace, losing hope of being with Ivan. Yet, it gave me hope of being with her. We’d spent three years in this twisted bond, each time convincing myself she’d eventually let him go. She had promised not to bring Ivan to the packhouse, and yet here we were.

I couldn’t help but ask, "Did you ever consider I might have died