She Alpha Bullied Me-Now They Kneel

I wake again in my twenty-eight-year-old form, this time with lucid memories: beside me sleep six-year-old Liam and four-year-old Nora; across the room lies Jessie Bancroft, top she wolf alpha.

Once I thought myself victorious, yet loneliness festered beneath our bond's glamour.

Last week, I carried a bond break pact to LS Café, straight to Byron Hawke-Jessie's sweetheart, her first love.

I pushed the pact across the table: "I want a bond break. Take Jessie. Take the cubs."

Byron's fingers traced his cup's rim, brow furrowed:

"Aidan, what game is this?"

"No game," I said flatly.

"I'm done being overlooked. Since they prefer you, take my place."

His lips quirked: "Generous. I'll accept."

"But know this: what I claim, I keep."

"Fear not," I smiled.

"No regrets."

For I'd tasted last life's solitude. Fire claimed me, my final wish: "Next life, no more wasted love."

Back at the villa, I packed through the night: Jessie's gowns, cubs' toys, family sigil-stones-all into crates.

When the door cracked, Nora shrieked: "Father! Why throw my moon-rabbit?"

Liam stood protectively: "We visited Byron! Must you rage?"

Jessie's gaze sliced through me:

"pack meeting. Quiet." She led the cubs away, leaving me in chaos.

As the door closed, tears fell. My heart ached, yet lighter than ever.

For now, this home would sway without me-and I'd sacrifice no more.

Since signing the bond break pact, I've abandoned all duties.

No more pre-dawn rises for cubs' breakfasts, no more moonlit vigils to brew Jessie's tonic. What were once my sacred tasks now fall to servants.

At first, none noticed.

Until Liam's school tardy, Nora's lost scroll, Jessie's stalled timepiece. Servants fumbled, failing my standards: unwashed dishes, strewn toys, wrinkled tunics.

As I closed my book by the study window, sunlight dappling my form, I sensed the manor's order crumbling.

"How long will this tantrum last?" Jessie's voice sliced the air, cold as moonstone.

"No tantrum."

She approached, nails clicking the table:

"Then why shirk duties? Still sulking?"

I set the book aside, voice flat: "Servants can manage."

Memories surged: last life's pre-dawn rituals-45-degree coffee, golden croissants, hand-washed cub tunics. All for her tender looks toward Byron, cubs' cries of "Uncle Byron," and my lonely end.

"Aidan Colton," her tone iced,

"Speak plainly. Don't act the three-moon pup."

My lips twitched: "No act. I seek rest."

The door burst open.

Liam and Nora charged in, eyes blazing.

Nora shrieked: "Father's lazy! We want Uncle Byron!"

Liam roared: "Byron's kinder, harder-working-ten thousand times better!"

Jessie's gaze pinned me, waiting for submission.

I exhaled: "If he's better, summon him. No objection."

"Certain?" she demanded.

"Certain."

Nora tugged Jessie's sleeve: "Go now! Bring Byron!"

Liam sneered: "Leave this manor, Father!"

Jessie's final glance was arctic.

She led the cubs out, their cheers fading.

Alone in the manor, I closed my eyes. Soon, I'd honor their wish-vanish from their lunar lives.

Since Byron Hawke moved into the the manor, my world fractured.

Dawn broke as workers hauled out the mahogany sofa