Chapter 10
As my mind wanders back, I set my phone aside.
Looking back at the six years with Dean Simmons in the Crimson Fang Pack, I realize true happiness was elusive. Dean, as a Beta, loved to stay up late sparring with the warriors or reviewing pack security, while I, a lowly Omega, needed my rest to be ready for the next day’s duties. I protested, but in the end, I was always the one who gave in. Each night, I lay awake, listening to the faint growls and the clashing of claws from the training grounds where he worked, staring at the ceiling until the early morning.
Dean had an insatiable love for raw, spiced venison, which I just couldn’t handle. Still, he refused to accommodate my tastes. In the end, I found myself choking down the fiery meat by his side for six years, my wolf whimpering in discomfort as I forced myself to keep up with his preferences.
I couldn’t stand Dean maintaining his close relationship with Lucia Weaver, the high-ranking Gamma who seemed to outshine me in every way. Lucia’s presence felt like a thorn, constantly pricking at my heart. Dean never took my feelings into account, always putting Lucia first. Every disagreement ended with his dismissive remark, “Jessica, can’t you be more understanding? She’s a Gamma, and her duties are important to the pack.”
...
In every conflict, it was always me who backed down, who tolerated, who suffered. I clung desperately to the fleeting moments of kindness he offered, trying to mend things as best as I could. Time and again, I brushed away my tears and continued loving him unwaveringly. But the truth is, my love never tied him down—it only trapped me in my obstinacy. My wolf, though silent, often stirred within me, a quiet reminder that I deserved more than this.
Thankfully, that meal, the one that caused me unbearable stomach pain, was the wake-up call I needed. Breaking up over a meal may sound ridiculous, but it truly was the last straw that broke the camel’s back. Our story began with a shared fondue at the Silver Moon Pack’s gathering, where he first asked me to be his mate with the solemn vow, “I, Dean Simmons, Beta of the Silver Moon Pack, accept you, Jessica Martin, as my mate.” And it ended the same way, with me finally speaking the words I should have said long ago: “I, Jessica Martin, reject you, Dean Simmons, as my mate.”
The bond shattered, and though the pain was searing, it was also freeing. I realized I had been living in the shadow of someone who could never truly see me—not as an Omega, not as his mate, but as Jessica. And now, I am finally ready to step into the light that belongs to me alone.
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