At the office, Anya arrived shortly after Alaric. After reporting his schedule, she returned to her desk and rubbed her temples, still feeling unwell from the alcohol.
Suddenly, Alaric's voice came through the desk phone.
"Anya, bring in the documents for the Western Corporation partnership."
Anya stood quickly and entered his office. After placing the files down, dizziness overtook her, and she could no longer stand.
Alaric rushed forward and caught her as she fell into his arms. In his embrace, Anya instantly felt safe and comfortable. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling she had not felt in years.
Alaric felt her weight against him and remembered his old desire to protect her.
"Stay like this for a moment. You'll feel better soon," he said gently, patting her head.
Skin contact with the mate was a powerful form of healing. Though Alaric had not formally claimed Anya, their connection was stronger than ever now that they were adults and when he had unsealed their bond.
After a while, Anya stepped back, feeling much better.
"Thank you, Mr Stone. I feel much better now," she said, blushing.
"No need to thank me. Do you want to go home and rest?" Alaric asked.
"No. Thank you for your concern. I'll head out now," Anya said softly and left.
Watching her back, Alaric felt deeply lonely. He knew he needed to be more proactive in mending their relationship.
******
That night, Anya sat alone on the edge of her bed.
She opened the drawer she rarely touched and took out a small wooden box. The lid creaked softly as she lifted it. Inside were fragments of a childhood she had never truly let go of. Old photographs. A bracelet too small for her wrist now. A seashell Alaric had once pressed into her palm, declaring it a promise.
She traced the edges with trembling fingers.
She had told him to leave.
She had been young, frightened, and overwhelmed, but the responsibility was still hers. She had no right to resent him.
The thought that Alaric might only have a few months left shattered her composure. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she hugged the box to her chest.
Across the city, Alaric froze mid-step in his study.
The pain was not his, yet it tore through him all the same.
Anya.
Without hesitation, he grabbed his coat and drove straight to her apartment.
****
When the door opened, Anya barely had time to react before Alaric pulled her into his arms. He did not speak. He simply held her, firm and warm, grounding her trembling body against his.
She cried into his chest until the storm passed.
"I don't want you to leave," she whispered.
"I'm not going anywhere," he replied quietly.
That night, he stayed.
He sat beside her bed until sleep claimed her, but even then, her tears did not stop. She called his name in her dreams, begging him not to go.
Regret crushed him.
Later, Leo's voice reached him through their bond, telling him the truth of Anya's past. The abuse. The escape. The years of silence.
Alaric clenched his fists.
He should never have left.
When Anya cried again, he lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms.
"I'm here," he murmured. "Always."
She clung to him instinctively, finding peace she had not felt in years.
****
Morning light filtered into the room.
Anya woke to warmth and realized she had been holding Alaric all night. Flustered, she tried to move away, but he gently pulled her back.
"Good morning," she said shyly.
"Someone kept calling my name all night," he replied lightly.
Their conversation unfolded slowly, honestly, until Anya finally asked the question she had been holding onto for years.
"Do you still hate me?"
"If I did, I wouldn't be here," Alaric answered.
She cried again, softer this time.
"I forgive you," he said, wiping away her tears.
Alaric then explained the truth about the three months.
"It isn't my life," Alaric said at last. His voice was low, steady. "You misunderstood."
She looked up instantly. "Then what does it mean?"
He took a slow breath. "Three months before I have to make an irreversible decision. About my future. About my responsibilities."
Her fingers tightened. "So you're not sick?"
"No," he said firmly. "I'm not dying. I'm not leaving this world yet."
For a moment, Anya just stared at him.
Then the tension drained from her face all at once.
Relief flooded her so suddenly that her body reacted before her mind could. Her shoulders sagged. A shaky breath escaped her lips, and her eyes filled with tears she hadn't realized she was holding back.
"I thought…" Her voice cracked. "I really thought I only had three months left with you."
She raised a hand to her face, embarrassed by how quickly she was unraveling.
Alaric reached for her hands gently, pulling them down before she could hide. "Anya," he said softly. "Look at me."
She did.
He brushed his thumb beneath her eye, wiping away the tear that slipped free. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as if she were something fragile and precious.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know how Leo had mentioned to you. I never meant to let you believe that."
Her fingers curled around his, holding on this time instead of pulling away. "Do you know how scared I was?" she whispered. "Every day I was living in sadness and fear. Because I thought you were running out of time."
His chest tightened.
"I know," he replied quietly. "And I hate that I put you through that."
She leaned forward without thinking, resting her forehead lightly against his shoulder.
"I'm glad you're safe," she said.
"I'm here," he said softly. "And I will be. Whatever happens, I won't disappear without telling you why."
Anya nodded against him, her grip on his shirt tightening. "That's all I needed to hear."
*****
In Central City, deep within a forest far from the city center, the wolf pack owned a secluded villa. It was a place meant only for their kind, hidden from human eyes.
When Alaric Stone received news that one of his pack brothers had been injured, he immediately went there to meet with the others.
"Alpha, you came at the right time," a young man said anxiously as Alaric entered the meeting room. "We were just about to discuss our next move."
"What happened?" Alaric asked, his voice steady but sharp with concern.
"One of our pack members was injured during a mission. His condition is serious," the man replied, his brows drawn tight. "We need to find out who did this and make sure our people are protected."
"We won't sit and wait," Alaric said calmly, authority radiating from him. "Organize a team immediately. Investigate every lead. Find the enemy and secure our territory."
More pack members gathered in the room, their expressions grim. Plans were discussed quickly and efficiently. Every one of them understood the stakes.
Alaric will be the next heir to leadership of the Central City wolf pack. Protecting his people was his responsibility. With only two months left before his formal ascension, he knew this attack was no coincidence.
Someone was provoking them.
***
On the following Monday, Anya noticed almost immediately that something was wrong.
Alaric did not come into the office.
At first, she told herself not to overthink it. He was often busy, pulled into meetings or away on short trips without warning. But even on those days, there were always instructions waiting for her. A message. A brief note. Something concise and impersonal, yet unmistakably his.
Today, there was nothing.
No email. No call. No task list dropped onto her desk.
The silence felt heavier than his coldness ever had.
Anya tried to focus on her screen, but the numbers blurred together. Every few minutes, her gaze drifted toward the closed office door that had remained untouched all morning. By noon, the unease in her chest had grown sharp enough to hurt.
After hesitating for a long time, she finally picked up her phone.
Her thumb hovered over his name.
She told herself she was just checking in. Just making sure he was all right.
The line connected.
"Hello…"
The voice that answered was female.
Anya's breath caught so abruptly it felt as if all the air had been punched from her lungs. Her fingers went numb. Before her mind could form a single coherent thought, she ended the call.
The screen went dark.
She stared at it for several seconds, her heart pounding violently against her ribs.
She did not call again or send a message.
Whatever she had just interrupted, she had no right to intrude on it further.
The rest of the day passed in a dull haze. With Alaric absent, there was very little work for her to do. She sat at her desk, pretending to organize files she had already sorted twice, her thoughts spiraling despite her best efforts to rein them in.
She knew now that Alaric was not in danger.
She knew he had forgiven her.
And that knowledge, instead of bringing comfort, left her with a hollow ache.
Because if he was safe, if he was whole, if the past between them had been resolved, then she no longer had a reason to stay.
She had come because she thought time was running out.
But it wasn't.
Hours later, as the office lights dimmed and people began to leave, Anya remained seated, staring at the blank document on her screen. Her reflection stared back at her faintly, tired and uncertain.
Finally, she exhaled and began to type.
It took her less time than she had expected.
The resignation letter was simple. Polite. Professional. She thanked the company for the opportunity and stated her intention to leave effective immediately.
Before she could second-guess herself, she attached the file and sent it directly to Alaric's email.
The moment it was gone, her chest tightened painfully.
She shut down her computer, gathered her things, and stood.
She would return to Riverside and she would find another job.
She would rebuild her life somewhere that did not revolve around him.
Anya told herself this was the right thing to do. Alaric had his career. His responsibilities. His world. And women who belonged to it far more naturally than she ever could.
Being able to face their past, to hear that he had forgiven her, was already more than she had dared to hope for.
****
After the meeting ended at the pack's villa, the atmosphere in the room slowly dispersed, but the tension in Alaric did not.
Gamma Serena Hale followed him out into the corridor, tablet in hand, her expression composed as always.
"Alpha," she reported evenly, keeping her voice low. "You received five calls today. None were urgent. Your work emails are currently being handled by Leo."
"Understood," Alaric said, holding out his hand.
Serena placed his phone back into his palm. The moment it touched his skin, his focus narrowed.
His first instinct was immediate and unmistakable.
Anya.
Without thinking, he unlocked the screen and scrolled through his call log. His thumb slowed, then stopped.
An answered call.
From her.
Duration: two seconds.
His brows drew together slightly.
She had called him but hung up.
Something tightened in his chest, sharp and instinctive.
Before he could press her number, another notification lit up his screen.
"Alpha, check your email."
Leo's message.
Alaric opened his inbox and the subject line hit him like a blow.
Resignation Letter.
For a moment, he didn't move. The noise of the hallway faded into nothing as he stared at the screen, his jaw slowly tightening.
He opened the email.
The words were polite. Controlled. Carefully distanced.
Too calm.
His grip on the phone tightened imperceptibly.
They had only just reconciled.
Only just cleared the misunderstanding that had haunted them for years. He had finally unsealed what he had buried. Finally allowed himself to feel again.
And she's already planning to leave him. Behind him, Leo had already sensed the shift.
"She quit," Leo said quietly, stepping closer. It wasn't a question.
Alaric didn't answer right away.
His gaze darkened, something cold and dangerous settling behind his eyes.