Not Coming Back

Three days ago.

Torin navigated the morning traffic, one hand resting loose on the leather steering wheel of his SUV. The city skyline passed by in a blur of gray concrete and glass. His phone chimed, and he tapped the console to route the call through the car’s speakers. It was Gareth, the private investigator he hired a few weeks prior.

“Sir, your wife is cheating on you.”

The words dropped like concrete. Torin slammed his foot on the brake pedal. The tires screeched against the asphalt. Horns blared in a chaotic chorus behind him. He swerved onto the shoulder of the road, throwing the car into park. His chest heaved.

“Shut the fuck up, Gareth,” Torin snarled, his voice guttural. “My wife will never do that.”

He refused to believe it. He sacrificed his birthright for Fiona. He walked away from the Frost Peak pack, chained his inner wolf, Tor, in the darkest corners of his mind, and spent three years building a logistics empire from the ground up. He did it all to give his human wife the safe, luxurious life she deserved. He did it for their unborn child. She was two months pregnant.

“Sir, it has been going on for three months,” Gareth replied, his tone flat and professional. “If you go home right now, you will see it for yourself. If I am telling lies, you can put a gun to my head, and I won’t fight back.”

The sheer certainty in the investigator’s voice planted a seed of dread in Torin’s gut. The anger drained, replaced by a cold, hollow sensation. He ended the call, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned stark white. He threw the SUV into drive, ripped a U-turn across the median, and sped back toward his penthouse.

Torin did not park in his usual spot. He pulled up to the curb a block away and walked the rest of the distance. Approaching his garage, he spotted a strange silver sedan parked in the driveway. The seed of dread sprouted into a suffocating weed. He unlocked the front door quietly. The sprawling penthouse was silent, save for a faint rhythmic thumping echoing from the master bedroom down the hall.

A trail of clothing littered the hardwood floor. He recognized Fiona’s expensive silk blouse, discarded carelessly next to a pair of men’s denim jeans. His blood ran hot, searing his veins. He crept down the hallway, stopping inches from the bedroom door, which sat slightly ajar.

“We can’t continue like this,” Fiona’s voice drifted through the gap, sounding breathless. “I’m married now, and Torin is a very good man. I’m also pregnant. Someone will suspect our affairs and know that the child is not for my husband. I will lose everything.”

“But I’m your first love,” a strange man replied, his tone dripping with arrogance. “I hurt you, but I came back. Does he do it better than me?”

“This is not right. Torin left everything for me.”

“But you still love me,” the man insisted. “If not, you would not have allowed me every time I came here. I know that I’m better than him.”

“You are not better than him,” Fiona argued weakly. “He is just busy because his company is new. He was very happy about the pregnancy.”

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” the man said, his voice lowering into a smug purr. “The child you are carrying is mine. I am just patient because he will put everything under our child’s name. So let him take care of the company while I take care of you.”

A wet, slapping sound echoed from the room.

“Arrhhhhhh, harder and faster,” Fiona moaned.

Torin pushed the door open. He did not kick it or slam it. He just pushed it wide, standing in the doorway like a grim reaper.

The scene before him burned into his retinas. Fiona was bent over the edge of their custom mattress, naked, her hands gripping the rumpled sheets. The strange man stood behind her, his fingers digging harshly into her hips. The man’s cock drove deep into her pussy with wet, rhythmic thrusts, sliding in and out in plain view. Fiona’s breasts swayed heavily with each brutal shove of his hips.

The man turned his head, catching sight of Torin’s massive frame filling the doorway. He froze instantly, his eyes widening in sheer terror. His cock slipped out of her pussy, slick with moisture, as he scrambled backward.

Fiona, oblivious to the silence, kept her eyes closed. “Why did you stop? I said faster.”

Getting no response, she opened her eyes and glanced over her shoulder. She let out a piercing shriek, scrambling to pull the bedsheet over her naked body. She froze, her face draining of all color.

Torin stared at them. Dead, chilling silence stretched across the room. He did not shift. He did not roar. He looked at his naked wife, taking in the reality of her betrayal, before turning on his heel and walking away.

Two days later, Fiona burst into his corporate office. Her eyes were red and swollen, her designer makeup running down her cheeks. She pleaded, begging him to return home, spinning desperate excuses. Torin sat behind his mahogany desk, looking at her with ice in his eyes.

“I, Torin Vaughn, reject you, Fiona Croft, as my fated mate,” he stated. His voice was a flat, ruthless command.

The mating mark on his neck—a dark crescent shape the humans mistook for a tattoo—faded into the skin, vanishing into nothing. The severing of the bond stung, a sharp pinch of phantom pain, but it was nothing compared to the hollow cavern in his chest. Fiona screamed, refusing to accept the rejection, but Torin paid her no mind.

He called his lawyers. Within forty-eight hours, he liquidated his massive assets, sold the logistics company to a rival firm, and transferred every dime into a private offshore account. When Fiona returned to the penthouse, the locks were changed, the property already sold. Torin pulled the SIM card from his phone, snapped it in half, and tossed it out the window of his SUV. He pointed his car north, driving back to the Frost Peak pack lands to reclaim the birthright he abandoned for a lie.

The drive up the winding mountain roads offered no peace. The bitter, lingering pain of the betrayal clouded his mind. He took a sharp curve near the pack border, his focus slipping for a fraction of a second. A figure appeared through the morning fog, walking along the shoulder of the dirt road.

Torin slammed the brakes. The heavy SUV skidded, stopping mere inches from a young woman hauling a battered duffel bag.

Cursing his carelessness, he shoved the car into park and rushed out. “I am so sorry, I didn’t see you—”

He reached out, his hand brushing against her bare forearm.

A jolt of pure electricity ripped through his veins. Sparks danced across his skin, sinking deep into his bones. The breath vanished from his lungs. The hollow cavern in his chest instantly filled with a rushing, consuming warmth.

“Mate,” the single word tore from his throat.

Deep within his mind, Tor, his inner wolf, erupted with brutal force. After three years of suffocating dormancy, the beast roared to life, pacing and scratching at the forefront of his consciousness, demanding to claim the female standing before them.

Torin stared down at her, his heart hammering against his ribs. She was petite, with striking blonde hair, but her eyes held a profound, deep bitterness. There was no joy in her expression. Only an incurable, devastating sadness. Before Torin could process the rejection in her gaze, she snatched her arm away, grabbed her duffel bag, and sprinted toward a rusted taxi idling down the road.

By the time Torin shook off the paralyzing shock of the mate bond, the taxi was already speeding away, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Now, standing in the center of the pack clearing, the dust settling around his parked SUV, Torin grabbed his father’s shoulders. The memory of the blonde girl fueled the frantic fire in his eyes.

“Dad, please,” Torin pleaded urgently, his fingers biting into Alpha Vaughn’s jacket. “Do you have any idea who she is?”

Vaughn’s face fell. The older man looked conflicted, the heavy weight of guilt settling into the deep lines around his mouth. He glanced at the pack warriors watching them, then back to his eldest son.

“Yes,” Vaughn finally confessed, his voice thick with regret. “She is an Omega. Her name is Maeve. She is destined for your younger brother, but Declan rejected her.”

Vaughn paused, bracing himself. He expected Torin to recoil. He expected his eldest son to spit in disgust at the thought of being paired with a discarded Omega. Instead, a brilliant, desperate hope illuminated Torin’s eyes.

“So, she will be back, right?” Torin asked, his voice steadying, anchoring onto that glimmer of hope.

From the doorway of the packhouse, a harsh scoff cut through the air. Declan leaned against the wooden frame, crossing his arms over his chest. His lip curled in sheer, unapologetic disgust.

“Wait, so you want an Omega as a mate?” Declan mocked, pushing off the doorframe and stalking toward them.

Torin dropped his hands from his father’s shoulders and turned to face his brother. Despite the underlying tension, a genuine smile touched Torin’s lips. The heavy depression of the past three days was gone, washed away by the sudden, unexpected gift from the fates.

“Little bro, the moon goddess makes no mistakes,” Torin said, his mood soaring. He didn't care about ranks. He only cared about finding her.

Declan’s eyes narrowed, flashing with spite. He stepped closer, invading Torin’s space. “If the moon goddess makes no mistakes, then why did she give you a cheating mate? Or did she just not know?”

The air in the clearing turned lethal. Alpha Vaughn shot Declan a glare so dark it promised a severe beating. Torin’s smile vanished, his jaw clenching as his Alpha aura flared, pressing down on the clearing and forcing Declan to shut his mouth.

“Dad, can we go now?” Torin asked, turning his back on his brother.

“Of course,” Vaughn agreed quickly, eager to diffuse the escalating tension. “I was planning to visit her house to speak with her mother anyway. I owe them an apology.”

Torin marched to his SUV, climbing into the driver’s seat. Vaughn took the passenger side. To Torin’s irritation, Declan pulled open the rear door and slid into the back seat, his face set in a stubborn, disgruntled scowl. Torin ignored him, throwing the car into gear and speeding off toward the outskirts of the territory.

The sleek, expensive black SUV looked entirely out of place as it rolled into the impoverished Omega community. The smooth pavement gave way to uneven dirt roads lined with crumbling shacks and rusted fences. Pack members in tattered clothing stopped their chores to stare at the striking vehicle, their eyes wide with caution and fear.

Torin parked the car outside a small, run-down cabin. A woman with graying hair sat on the porch steps, her chin resting in her hands as she stared blankly into space. She jolted upright at the sound of the car doors shutting, her eyes widening as the Alpha, the Beta, and the newly returned eldest son approached her yard.

She stood up quickly, wiping her dirt-stained hands on her worn apron. She looked terrified, likely assuming they were here to punish Maeve for failing to report for packhouse cleaning duties.

“Alpha, Beta,” Edith greeted, her voice trembling. She offered a stiff bow, unsure of how to address Torin, who lacked an official title after his long absence.

“Edith, how are you?” Alpha Vaughn asked, his tone gentle, trying to ease the older woman’s fear. “Is Maeve there? Can I see her? I owe her an apology on behalf of my son.”

From the back of the group, Declan rolled his eyes, thoroughly disgusted by his father’s polite treatment of a lowly Omega.

Edith stared at the three men. She looked at Vaughn’s guilty expression, Declan’s sneer, and the frantic, hopeful desperation burning in Torin’s eyes. She forced a fragile, hollow smile, her shoulders sagging under the weight of a mother’s broken heart.

“It is too late, Alpha,” Edith said softly, delivering the crushing blow. “Maeve left this morning, and she swore she is never coming back.”