Too Late to Apologize, My Dear Alpha

The next morning, the Alpha stumbled through the door, looking disheveled and exhausted. His eyes were heavy with the weight of a sleepless night.

“Diana had a high fever all night. It wouldn’t go down,” he said, his voice strained. Diana was Felicity’s child, and hearing her name felt like a reminder that he would put everyone else before me.

“Is everything okay now? Why didn’t you stay longer? It must be hard for Felicity to handle a sick child alone,” I replied, my words laced with a bitterness I didn’t bother to hide.

Upon hearing that, Dane paused, halfway through shrugging off his coat. A flicker of annoyance crossed his features. “Are you being sarcastic again?” he sighed, the sound heavy with weariness. Whether it was real or just another act, I couldn’t tell. “Look, I didn’t sleep all night. I’m very tired.”

“Then you should get some rest. I’m going to the clinic,” I said, reaching for my bag, already turning away.

“Celeste…” he began, reaching out to stop me.

“What is it?” I asked, my tone flat and devoid of interest.

“I'll make it up to you for the anniversary celebration next time, okay?” He suggested his voice a weak plea for reconciliation.

A ghost of a smile played on my lips, empty and devoid of feeling. “Nah, don't worry about it. I’m not mad,” I replied, the words hollow and meaningless.

He looked at me, searching for a response, and then pulled me into a hug. The gesture felt as empty as his promises. “There’s a gathering of different packs this weekend,” he murmured into my hair. “Let’s go together.”

It was obvious that Dane’s background was far more prestigious than mine. He was the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack after all. Not only that, but he was highly respected as well. I had attended gatherings and banquets with him, but everyone barely acknowledged me, treating me as an outsider.

Yet, they didn’t hesitate to ask for my help with minor health issues, leveraging my position at the pack's clinic. In the past, I had often brought Dane meals or medicine whenever he was sick, but he, whenever we weren't alone, would never acknowledge my presence. It was as if I was a ghost in his life as an Alpha, invisible and unacknowledged.

I snapped back to reality and replied, “No, I might have to work at the clinic overtime next weekend.”

“Suit yourself,” the Alpha hissed through gritted teeth, his frustration evident.

I didn’t attend the gathering, but I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. My phone buzzed incessantly while I was in the clinic, immersed in writing medical records. But before I checked my phone, I was preoccupied with something far more troubling.

For days now, I had been trying to connect with Cassia, my wolf. As a healer and a werewolf, the bond with my wolf was integral to my strength and well-being. Cassia had always been a steady presence in my mind, a source of power and comfort. But recently, I couldn’t feel her at all. It was as if she had vanished, leaving a gaping void where our connection used to be.

I sat at my desk, closing my eyes and focusing inward, trying to reach her. “Cassia, are you there?” I whispered, desperation creeping into my voice. But there was no response, just a suffocating silence.

The strain of our broken connection was taking a toll on me. My body felt heavy and sluggish, my senses dulled. The energy that once flowed effortlessly through me now felt blocked, stifled. It was as if a part of me was missing, and the emptiness was slowly draining my strength.

Just as I was about to try reaching out to Cassia again, my phone buzzed with relentless notifications. Someone had added me to the group chat, it was for the gathering. It seemed like although many wolves were old-fashioned, some still coped with trends. I clicked into the chat, my curiosity and dread mingling.

Photos from the event streamed in, showing various activities and smiling faces. Felicity featured prominently, her bright smile and effortless charm shining through. She fit in perfectly with the Alpha's circle, laughing and engaging with ease. One picture in particular made my breath catch: my mate carrying Felicity in his arms, lifting her off the ground like she was his Luna. She clung to his neck, her cheek resting against his chest. If she tilted her head just slightly, she could kiss his chin.

The group chat erupted with cheers and comments, tagging Dane and Felicity and calling them a “perfect match.” Flattery and eager compliments flowed in, each more effusive than the last, all seeking to ingratiate themselves with Dane.

Since I had been added to the group, I couldn’t ignore it. Maintaining a facade was essential, even if it meant participating in this farce. So, I typed two words, “Perfect match", my fingers trembling slightly as I hit send.

With a click, I exited the group chat and silenced my phone. The digital world buzzed on without me, its superficial praise and false cheerfulness nothing more than background noise. I returned to my work, the medical records providing a brief refuge from the storm raging in my mind. By the time I finished, darkness had settled outside.

While doing all that, I refused to listen to any of my mates' attempts to mind link me.

As I finally checked my phone again, I saw dozens of missed calls from him. There were even messages, but I refused to care anymore.

I stood up after hours of sitting, but suddenly my world felt like it was spinning. I thought it was because my body was shocked by the sudden movement, but when I looked in the mirror, I saw my nose bleeding.