My Alpha's Retribution

Chapter Two

The sun barely touched the curtains when I opened my eyes. The house was quiet, too quiet for what it used to be. I lay still, staring at the man beside me. Dylan. My husband. My Alpha. His arm was sprawled lazily across the bed, his chest rising and falling like nothing had happened.

He looked peaceful. Too peaceful.

Last night flashed through my mind again—the laughter, the low whispers, the way Maya’s perfume lingered even after she left. It was still in the air now. Sweet. Heavy. Disgusting.

I turned away from him, pressing my face into my pillow. I could still smell her there too. I had washed these sheets yesterday, but somehow, her scent had found a way to stay.

He moved beside me. “You’re awake early,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

I didn’t answer. My throat felt tight.

He shifted closer and pressed a lazy kiss on my shoulder.

His lips touched my skin, warm and familiar, but my whole body tensed. My stomach turned at the scent of him—soap, cologne, and something else that didn’t belong to me. I felt trapped beneath the weight of his touch. His breath against my neck made my skin crawl. My chest rose and fell too fast. It took everything in me not to flinch, not to jerk away from him like his touch burned. The same warmth that once made me melt now felt like poison seeping under my skin.

I could feel the ghost of his hand tracing down my arm and had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from pulling away too soon. My wolf whimpered inside me, quiet but restless.

I finally moved, slow enough not to seem obvious. “I couldn’t sleep,” I said flatly.

He chuckled, like everything was fine. “You’ve been tense lately. Maybe I should cancel a few meetings and spend the day with you.”

I looked at him then, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “No. I’m sure your secretary needs you more than I do.”

He didn’t even catch the sting in my words. Or maybe he did and chose to ignore it. “Maya’s good at what she does,” he said simply, standing and stretching his tall frame. “You’ll like her once you get to know her better.”

I laughed under my breath. “Oh, I’m already starting to.”

He smiled, thinking I was joking. I wasn’t.

He went to shower, leaving the faint sound of running water in the background. I sat there, staring at the spot he left on the bed. For a second, I remembered when that same man used to worship me.

I could still see that night in my mind — the night of the first full moon after we got married. We had gone hunting with the pack. I had twisted my ankle during the run, and Dylan had carried me all the way home, refusing to let anyone touch me. He had wrapped my foot with his own hands, kissed my forehead, and whispered, “You’re mine. I’ll never let you hurt alone.”

I almost laughed now. What a lie.

When he came out of the shower, water dripping down his chest, I didn’t look away. I wanted to see if I could still feel what I once did. But I didn’t. All I felt was disgust.

He gave me a quick peck and left for work, saying, “Don’t wait up too long. I’ll bring something for dinner.”

The door closed. Silence filled the room again.

I got up, walked to the window, and stared out at the forest line beyond the packhouse. The air smelled of pine and distance. Freedom.

I needed that.

By the time I went downstairs, I already knew what kind of day it would be. The kitchen smelled like freshly brewed coffee and betrayal.

Maya was there, standing by the counter, humming a tune as if she owned the place. She wore a dress that was far from office-appropriate—tight, short, and clinging to her like second skin.

She leaned casually against the counter I had scrubbed spotless just yesterday, the same counter where I used to prepare Dylan’s meals. Her hip pressed against the edge like she was marking her territory. She poured herself coffee from my favorite mug—the one Dylan bought for me when we first moved in. The words “Luna of SilverClaw” were printed in fading gold letters. She lifted it to her lips, smirking faintly as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

When she noticed me standing there, she didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head toward the mirror hanging near the window and adjusted her hair, using the reflection to meet my eyes. For a heartbeat, it felt like I was looking at a stranger living my life, while I stood in the doorway like a ghost in my own home.

Her smile brightened when she finally turned to face me. “Good morning, ma’am,” she said sweetly.

Ma’am. The word tasted fake.

Dylan walked in a moment later, already buttoning his shirt. “Morning, love,” he said to me, before turning to Maya with that easy smile that once belonged to me. “Did you get the reports I asked for?”

She giggled. “Of course, Alpha. I stayed up late finishing them.”

I raised a brow. “Working hard, I see.”

She turned toward me, pretending not to hear the edge in my voice. “Just trying to make sure everything runs smoothly,” she said, brushing her hair back.

I nodded slowly, crossing my arms. “You’re doing more than just that, I’m sure.”

Dylan frowned slightly but said nothing. Instead, he grabbed his cup of coffee—my coffee, the one I used to make for him every morning—and handed Maya another cup from the counter.

She took it, her fingers brushing his, and they both smiled. I felt something inside me tighten.

“Don’t you have work to do, Celine?” Dylan asked casually. “You’ve been so quiet lately. Maybe you should go out. Visit the market or something.”

I bit back a scoff. “Oh, so now you’re suggesting I leave my own house.”

He blinked. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Of course not,” I said, forcing a smile. “Enjoy your coffee. Both of you.”

I walked away before either of them could answer. I could feel their eyes on my back, but I didn’t turn around.

By noon, I stayed upstairs, cleaning out my closet—not because it needed cleaning, but because it helped me think. Every dress, every folded shirt had a memory tied to it. The red one he bought me for the winter festival. The white one I wore on our mating anniversary. I remembered how proud he was, standing beside me, how the whole pack cheered when he kissed me in front of everyone.

Now, the same man couldn’t even look at me without comparing me to someone else.

My hand trembled as I folded the last dress. My chest burned with something between anger and heartbreak. I had thought betrayal would make me cry. But it didn’t. It made me cold.

That was when I reached for my phone. My hand shook, but I knew what I had to do.

The number was one I hadn’t dialed in a long time.

“Celine,” the voice on the other end said softly after the second ring.

“Hi, Aunt Lila,” I whispered. My voice cracked a little, but I steadied it. “I… I need a favor. I’ll be leaving soon. Three days, maybe less. I need a place to stay. Somewhere no one will find me for a while.”

There was silence on the other side. Then a sigh. “Does he know?”

“No. And he won’t. Not until I’m gone.”

“Good,” she said quietly. “Come to the old cottage near Silvercrest Woods. It’s still under my name. You’ll be safe there.”

Safe. The word sounded strange now.

“Thank you,” I breathed out, hanging up before my voice could break.

Three days. That’s all I was giving myself. Three days to pack my heart, my sanity, and my pride. Then I would leave this packhouse behind.

That evening, Dylan came home later than usual. Maya followed behind him again, her voice echoing through the hall as she laughed.

I stood by the staircase, pretending not to watch. She handed him a file, her hand brushing against his again. I noticed how he didn’t pull away.

“Goodnight, Alpha,” she said, lingering at the door.

“Goodnight, Maya,” he replied softly.

When the door closed, I came down slowly. “Long day at work?”

He sighed, loosening his tie. “You have no idea.”

“Looks like you had company,” I said lightly.

“She’s my assistant, Celine. Don’t start.”

I tilted my head, forcing another smile. “I didn’t say anything.”

He walked past me toward the living room, clearly irritated. I followed, stopping near the couch.

“Do you remember when you used to come home early just to have dinner with me?” I asked quietly.

He froze for a second but didn’t turn around. “Things change.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “They do.”

We sat in silence for a while. He turned on the TV, pretending to watch, while I stared at him. It was strange, watching someone you used to love fade into a stranger.

He yawned and said, “You’re quiet again.”

I looked at him, my voice calm but sharp. “If I start talking, you might not like what I say.”

He laughed softly, thinking it was another joke. “You’ve always had a temper.”

“Not anymore,” I said, standing. “Now I just have limits.”

He didn’t even look up. That told me everything.

Later that night, I lay beside him again, but I didn’t close my eyes. I could feel the distance, thick and heavy like fog. I thought about the three days ahead, the ones I had promised myself before leaving.

Three days to pack my heart. Three days to prepare my exit.

He murmured something in his sleep, and for a moment, I thought he said my name. But then I realized it wasn’t mine he whispered.

It was hers.

Maya.