Chapter 24
Third–person pov
Jillian had been missing for a full moon cycle before Alpha Floyd finally realized something
was truly wrong.
At first, he’d brushed it off as one of her dramatic little games–a childish bout of defiance, maybe just her playing hard to get. He was used to her stubborn streak. But when every call went unanswered, when even the pack’s best trackers couldn’t catch her scent,
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he
He began reaching out–one by one, contacted her closest friends in the pack. But
each of them swore they hadn’t seen her, hadn’t even picked up her scent in weeks.
Frustrated, Alpha Floyd slammed the phone down, stormed into his study, and pulled open his laptop. He tapped into her bank account- the one tied to the black card he’d given her
after they mated.
She hadn’t touched a single cent of the Jenkins. Pack’s money. She’d left with nothing but her
own savings.
“Tch. Stubborn little wolf,” he muttered,
shutting the laptop with a snap. “Trying to provoke me with this petty stunt? She thinks I’ll chase her just because she vanished?”
He leaned back in his chair, jaw tight. “Such childish tactics won’t work.”
The next morning, the manor buzzed with domestic peace. Over breakfast, Leon and Yolanda chattered excitedly about their upcoming school events. Monica, ever graceful, served their plates with practiced elegance, occasionally flashing Alpha Floyd a soft smile
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that tried to charm but somehow missed the
mark.
“Dad!” Yolanda tugged at his sleeve, her bright eyes wide. “Next week is the parent–child sports day at school! Will you come with Aunt
Monica?”
“Of course,” Alpha Floyd replied automatically. Then something made him pause. “Who came with you last year? Your mother?”
Both children made identical faces of distaste.
“She did… but we really don’t want her there anymore,” Leon said, pushing his food around his plate, his tone cold.
“She just stays home all day cooking and cleaning. She doesn’t dress up or talk to other parents. We were embarrassed,” Yolanda added bluntly. “Aunt Monica always looks so pretty- other kids say we’re lucky!”
Monica blushed modestly, then poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Alpha Floyd.
“Floyd, I asked the kitchen to make it just the way you like it.”
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He took a sip and grimaced ever so slightly. Too sweet.
Jillian had always made his coffee herself. Hand–ground beans, just the right splash of milk, no sugar. She knew his taste like she knew the rhythm of his heartbeat.
“What’s wrong?” Monica asked, picking up on his expression. “Isn’t it right?”
“It’s fine,” he said shortly, setting the cup down and adjusting his cuff. “I’ll be heading to the office.”
The days that followed passed in a strange, uncomfortable quiet. On the surface, the Jenkins household ran smoothly–staff kept the place immaculate, Monica floated through the halls like a Luna–in–waiting. But something was off.
Monica never lifted a finger for the home. After a few half–hearted attempts at chores, she left everything to the maids. The warmth that had once permeated the manor had disappeared, replaced by a kind of clinical perfection.
No more freshly ironed shirts laid out before.
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sunrise. No warm cup of milk waiting on the nightstand. No scent of roasted herbs and bone broth in the kitchen at dusk.
Everything functioned–but it no longer felt like home.
One night, after returning late from a business banquet, Alpha Floyd stumbled into the
darkened living room. His Beta, Elmer, tried to follow, but Floyd waved him off with a tired growl.
“There’s nothing for you here. Go.”
The door shut behind him, and silence fell.
He stood there for a moment, rubbing his temples. His wolf shifted restlessly beneath his skin. Without thinking, he muttered:
“Where is she…?”
Only when the words left his mouth did the emptiness truly hit him.
No glow from the wall sconce. No steaming bowl of hangover soup waiting on the coffee table. No quiet footsteps padding in from the kitchen.
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He grabbed the landline and dialed the servants‘ quarters, his voice tight.
Points
“Wilona. Why isn’t anything ready? I told you I had a late meeting tonight.”
Wilona hurried into the room moments later, wringing her hands.
“I’m so sorry, Alpha Floyd. We–we didn’t think to prepare anything. Everything you used to have when you came home late… that was all done by the Luna. She always handled it
herself. Never let us interfere.”
She hesitated, then added in a softer voice, “Even the hangover soup. She’d go out and buy the herbs herself. She’d stay up simmering it for
hours.”
“I can make it now if you’d like…”
Alpha Floyd didn’t answer right away. Something twisted in his chest–something sharp and unfamiliar. His wolf stilled.
He had known, of course, that Jillian was
devoted. He’d known she’d cared for the family.
But only now did the weight of her quiet efforts
sink in.
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folded it into his shirts, stirred it into his coffee,
left it waiting in the warmth of the lights she’d
leave on for him.
And he’d ignored it. Overlooked it. Maybe even taken it for granted.
A bitter realization settled in his gut, thick and inescapable.
He had wronged his mate. And now, her absence echoed louder than any words she could have spoken..
