His Mate’s Love Vanished with the Roses

Kyle

The morning light seeping through the window did little to warm the icy tension in the room. Bree’s movements were stiff as she placed a plate of eggs and toast in front of me without even a glance.

“Good morning,” I said hesitantly.

“Morning,” she replied, lacking its usual softness.

"Did you not sleep well?"

She shrugged, leaning against the counter with her coffee.

"Not really."

Her indifference was like a knife twisting deeper with each passing moment. Bree wasn't just upset - she was distant and unreachable.

I poked at my food with my fork, losing my appetite quickly.

"Something's bothering you. You know you can talk to me, right?"

This time, she met my gaze with a coldness that sent shivers down my spine.

"Can I?"

It sounded like a challenge, but before I could respond, she turned and left the room with unanswered questions.

Later that morning, I went outside to clear my head. The rose garden had always been Bree's sanctuary, our haven when the responsibilities of being pack leaders became too much. But as I stepped onto the patio, I froze.

It was gone.

The roses, once vibrant reds and whites had been ripped out, and the soil lay barren and raw as if someone had taken the heart of the garden away overnight.

"What the hell..." I muttered.

Two omegas were nearby, sweeping up the last remnants of petals and leaves. They stiffened as I approached.

"What happened here?" I demanded; my tone harsher than intended.

One of them hesitated, glancing nervously at the other.

"Luna's orders," she blurted.

I was stunned.

"Bree ordered this?"

"Yes, Alpha. Last night. She said everything had to be gone by morning."

My jaw tightened as I scanned the desolate garden. Bree loved this place. It was where we shared some of our most intimate moments - our first kiss, whispered confessions, stolen glances. Now, it looked as empty as her eyes had this morning.

"Why would she do this?" I muttered to myself, more than to the omegas.

They didn't answer, and I didn't push them further.

I found Bree in the kitchen again, her back to me as she washed a coffee mug in the sink.

"You had the garden cleared," I said in a low but steady voice.

She didn't turn around.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"They were just roses," she replied casually as if that explained everything.

I moved closer, studying her carefully.

"You've never thought of them as 'just roses.' What changed?"

Bree finally turned to face me, her expression blank except for a flicker of something indistinguishable - pain or anger, perhaps.

"I changed, Kyle. Can't I do that?"

Her tone was sharp and final, like an impenetrable wall between us.

"Bree..."

"I don't want to talk about it," she interrupted, brushing past me with the same cold detachment she'd carried all morning.

I stood there, fists clenched, the weight of her words pressing down on me. Something was wrong.

The rest of the day passed with me doing all of responsibilities and pack duties, but Bree's emotional distance lingered in my mind. By evening, I couldn't shake the feeling that something big had changed between us. When I returned to the house, I saw Bree sitting at the coffee table in the living room. She was engrossed in her calendar, crossing out dates and jotting down notes on the margins.

"What are you planning?" I asked casually, trying not to let my curiosity show.

She froze at the sound of my voice and quickly closed the calendar, avoiding eye contact.

"Just organizing my schedule," she replied without looking up.

I couldn't help but step closer, catching a glimpse of the marked dates with red circles and cryptic notes like "final decision" and "last chance". My heart beat faster as I reached for the calendar, but Bree snapped it shut before I could see anything else.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" she said coolly, standing up and brushing past me.

Her words stung like a slap, and I stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at the closed calendar. Bree was planning something she didn't want me to know. And it terrified me.