Chapter 1

My mate’s latest conquests have fled the pack again.

This time, Shepherd Larson, the Alpha of the Larson Pack, attempted to lure them back with a signed rejection agreement. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve witnessed this game. I’ve cried, raged, even contemplated disappearing like the other she-wolves he’s pursued. But each time, he hands me a check with another zero added, smirking as he asks, “Is this enough?”

I took the rejection papers and signed my name without hesitation. Shepherd’s smirk deepened, and he patted my head, his tone condescending. “Good girl. It’s just a formality. I’ll nullify it once the cooling-off period ends.”

“You’ll come back to me, won’t you?” he continued, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Every Alpha enjoys a challenge, especially when it involves a pair of elusive beauties. Once I’ve claimed them, I’ll settle down with you.”

I didn’t argue. Instead, I picked up the check from the floor. He didn’t know I’d already decided I was done waiting for him.

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“Your rejection registration is complete. It’ll be finalized in a month,” Emryn Payne, the pack clerk, handed me the receipt. Shepherd snatched it from my hands to snap a photo, grinning like a lovesick pup. Emryn gave me a sympathetic glance. Shepherd and I had staged this mock rejection so many times that the staff recognized me on sight.

After a while, Shepherd looked up, his face alight with excitement. He produced a small velvet box and held it out to me. “Brinley, do you think these are stunning?”

“Will Calliope and Noemi like them?” Inside were two expensive rings. I nodded calmly. “They’re stunning.”

I instinctively touched the faint imprint on my ring finger, memories flooding back. A week ago, Calliope and Noemi had thrown fits—one cutting her wrists in a coastal town, the other overdosing abroad—demanding Shepherd propose with the same rings from our marking ceremony.

He had personally ordered these unique rings for me; there was only one pair in existence. He lied, saying he’d sent the rings for maintenance as he took them off while I slept. I knew the truth; both had been flushed down the toilet, all to appease his latest distractions.

As we got into the car, Shepherd instinctively reached for my hand. My interior design had been swapped for pastel shades. Noticing my stare, Shepherd quickly explained, “Those two are so fickle, insisting on a color change. I’ll revert it later.”

I murmured a soft “hmm,” knowing that a rejected mate’s car should naturally change its appearance. It wasn’t just the overwhelming new scent but the trunk filled with flowers that made me sneeze repeatedly, finally drawing his attention from his phone.

Seeing the rash creeping up my neck, he frowned. “I forgot you’re allergic to pollen,” he muttered, instructing the driver to head to the pack healer immediately. But as we stopped at a red light, a call changed his expression to one of concern.

“Pull over!”

He turned to me, his tone dismissive. “Calliope got a burn from hot water. She’s usually so composed about her looks, but she’s crying now and needs me.”

“Brinley, you should go to the healer by yourself.”

He nudged me out of the car, leaving me standing before the traffic, somewhat stunned. Only when my phone notified me of a successful ticket purchase did I snap out of it and hail a cab to the healer’s den.

Alayah Harvey, the pack healer, seemed surprised to see me alone. “Your mate didn’t come with you this time?”

My allergy sensitivity often meant Shepherd fretting over even a speck of dust, whisking me to the healer every time, even once delaying a pack meeting for me. I smiled and shrugged. “He’s busy.”

As I sat receiving treatment, the healers buzzed with excitement at the station.

“Wow, that Alpha is so handsome.”

“Has anyone ever brought ninety-nine roses for their mate at the healer’s den? And carried her along with the flowers!”

“It’s just a little redness from the burn; it would’ve healed on its own soon.”

Through the window, I saw the vibrant red roses and Shepherd engrossed in something.

“Ding!” A message from him. “Brinley, how are you? Feeling better?”

Looking down, I saw him pocketing his phone and walking away, hand in hand with a she-wolf. Their fingers intertwined, the rings gleaming brightly in the sunlight.

I accepted two friend requests on social media, noticing how their profile pictures matched Shepherd’s recent change. Before this, his profile picture had always been of me. The bold young she-wolf didn’t hold back. “Since you’ve already rejected Shepherd, please move out and clean up by today.”

They didn’t know that out of guilt, Shepherd had signed over eighty percent of his assets to me, including the estate I currently lived in. I sent over the section of the agreement outlining the terms, and the response was silence.

Soon, a call broke the quiet. “Aria, what theme do you want for the marking ceremony?”