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We End Here Novel Cover

We End Here

Alpha Raelor Thorne promised to mark only one woman, but weeks before their ceremony, he demands to father an heir with his brother's widow, Seraphine. When a medical report reveals he has already marked her and she is pregnant, the betrayal is complete. Refusing to be a secondary mate, the protagonist destroys their shared history and abandons the Silvermoon Pack. She travels to the Obsidian Pack to become their Chief Healer, leaving Raelor behind forever.
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Chapter 4

"You don’t need to go to tomorrow’s ceremonial robe fitting." Raelor’s voice sounded behind me.

I looked at the calendar on the wall. Under tomorrow’s date was a simple sketch of a long ceremonial robe. It was the day we had scheduled to visit the tailor and try on our ceremonial robes.

I did not know why Raelor suddenly canceled, but it suited me perfectly. I had never planned to attend this ceremony anyway.

I nodded, my tone calm. "Alright."

Raelor paused. He clearly had not expected me to agree so readily.

In the past, even the slightest change would have made me anxious. I would have asked questions immediately, afraid he might be displeased.

He fell silent for a moment. Something unnatural flickered through his eyes before he masked it.

"It’s not canceled." After a brief pause, he continued, "It’s Seraphine. She said since Theron is gone, she may never have another chance in this life to wear ceremonial robes. She wants to try them on with me and take a few keepsakes, so she won’t have regrets."

His tone was flat, as if he were discussing how to divide the evening’s hunt or as if it were the most ordinary suggestion in the world, just like the day he informed me he intended to mark Seraphine.

On the surface, it sounded like a discussion. In truth, the certainty in his voice made it clear he had already decided. My feelings were irrelevant.

Unbeknownst to him, there was no future left for us.

I answered softly, "Alright."

Then I turned and walked into the bedroom to prepare for rest.

If I was no longer meant to be the leading she-wolf of this ceremony, then it no longer mattered who Raelor tried on robes with.

Raelor watched my retreating back. His brows drew together faintly. An inexplicable irritation stirred inside him.

I was too calm. Unnaturally calm. I had not even questioned him.

He had prepared explanations and comforting words. He had even braced himself for an argument.

Instead, I gave him nothing. It felt like throwing a punch into empty air, as though something important was slipping quietly through his fingers.

The next morning, when I woke, Raelor was already dressed for departure.

As he adjusted his bracers, he said, "After the fitting, Seraphine and I plan to spend a few days in human territory. They have professional prenatal guidance there, which will benefit the pup.

"As for the Marking Ceremony, keep it simple. I don’t have time to concern myself with altar arrangements or offerings. Decide everything yourself. There’s no need to consult me."

I continued organizing my belongings and replied lightly, "Alright."

Keep it simple.

There would be no ceremonial robes preserved in memory. No guests. No priestess blessings.

There would not even be a leading she-wolf.

Seeing how compliant I was, Raelor seemed to reconsider something.

After a moment, he added, as if attempting compensation, "After the ceremony, if you want, we can go to human territory and watch a movie. I remember you’ve always wanted to."

In the past, hearing Raelor propose going to a movie would have made me leap with excitement. I would have immediately started checking new releases.

I had asked him many times before to accompany me, but he always refused, claiming he was too busy with pack matters. He said he disliked the clamor of human society.

Now I simply continued sorting through my things without even lifting my eyes.

Raelor watched me pack and found it strange. He was about to say something when his wolf communicator lit up.

Seraphine was urging him.

He merely said, "We’ll talk when I return."

Then he hurried out.

I watched his figure disappear through the doorway.

My gaze drifted to the waste bin. Inside lay the only photograph we ever took together, torn cleanly in half.

It was a pity that in his eyes, there was only Seraphine. He had not even noticed.

I walked to the calendar and picked up a pen. Over the little robe icon marked "fitting", I drew a heavy cross.

Twelve days left.

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