Betrayed by the One Who Claimed to Love

Dragging myself back to the pack house, I paused in the doorway and let my eyes wander over the place I had called home for five years. It was quiet—too quiet—just like my love for Asher.

Every corner, every creak in the floor seemed to echo memories of us, moments that now felt like sharp claws digging into my heart.

I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The moonlight streamed through the large windows, casting a glow over familiar furniture and keepsakes. There were silly little trinkets—matching mugs with cheesy wolf-themed designs, a framed photo of us at the pack’s annual bonfire, and even a pair of charms shaped like paw prints that supposedly glowed when we were close to each other. They’d all once meant so much. Now they felt like anchors pulling me into a sea of regret.

As I stood there, staring at those memories, a wave of exhaustion hit me. It wasn’t just physical—it was the kind of tiredness that seeped into your bones after fighting for someone who stopped fighting for you.

My mind drifted back to when I first met Asher, back when things were so different.

It had been years ago, during one of my late-night runs in wolf form. I’d gone deeper into the forest than usual, my paws crunching over leaves, the air thick with the scent of pine. That’s when I heard them—the low growls, the sharp snarls. Rogues.

I barely had time to react before they charged. There were three of them, their eyes glowing with hunger and desperation. My wolf fought back fiercely, but I was outnumbered and cornered. Just when I thought it was over, a blur of dark fur crashed into the rogues, sending them flying.

It was Asher; my brother best friend. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter. His wolf was relentless, taking them down one by one until they fled, yelping into the night.

After shifting back, he’d wrapped his jacket around me, his voice low but soothing. "You okay?"

I nodded, still shaken, and he smiled—a soft, lopsided grin that made my heart skip a beat. "Stick closer to the pack borders next time. I don’t want to have to rescue you again."

That was the start of everything. Asher became my protector, my confidant. He had this way of making me feel safe, like nothing could touch me as long as he was around. I remembered the nights we’d spent under the stars, talking about dreams and pack life, his arm slung casually over my shoulder. The way he’d always pull me close during bonfires, his warmth chasing away the night’s chill.

I shook my head, snapping myself out of the memory. That Asher felt like a lifetime ago. The man who had protected me, who had laughed with me, wasn’t the same one who now believed every lie Celeste fed him.

Unable to sleep, I grabbed a large cardboard box and started packing. The mugs, the charms, the blanket we’d fought over on countless cold nights—it all went into the box. Every item felt heavier than it should, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

By the time the sun rose, the place barely looked like mine. It was stripped of everything that had made it feel warm and personal. The colorful pillows were gone, the pictures packed away, the trinkets boxed up. The rooms were plain and cold, just like his absence.

Asher didn’t come home that night. Or the next. Days blurred into weeks, and the only sounds that broke the silence were my pen scratching across paper as I worked on my designs. At first, I missed his presence, but over time, I started to feel something else: relief.

I buried myself in my work, sketching late into the night. My wolf stirred occasionally, restless and aching, but even she knew it was time to move on.

One evening, when the weight of everything felt unbearable, I decided to reach out one last time. He deserved that—a chance for closure. I dialed his number, and it rang several times before going straight to voicemail. Moments later, a message buzzed in:

[If you’re god-damn ready to apologize to Celeste, then maybe we can talk. Otherwise, don’t bother.]

I stared at the screen, his words slamming into me like a rogue’s attack. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. That was it, then.

The night before I planned to leave, I packed the last of my things into a suitcase. The pack house looked foreign now—bare and cold, stripped of every memory I’d poured into it. But in the emptiness, I felt a strange sense of relief.

At dawn, I walked out the door for the last time. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scents of the forest surrounding the pack lands. My wolf paced in my mind, uneasy but resolute. This was it.

Just as I reached the pack borders, my phone buzzed. It was my birthday, and messages started pouring in.

[Happy birthday! Hope this year is full of joy and success.]

[Wishing you strength and happiness.]

[You deserve the best—don’t settle for less!]

I smiled faintly. Each message reminded me that my life wasn’t ending here—it was just beginning.

I powered off my phone and took a deep breath, my feet crossing the boundary. The gates loomed behind me, closing with a soft clang.

But I didn’t look back.

As the plane took off, I couldn’t help but think to myself, I will be happy. With everything ahead of me, I knew I had so much to look forward to.