The wife he gave away

Untitled EpisodeChapter10

The beginning of the end

"The elders used to say that storms never announce themselves. They arrive disguised as ordinary days, ordinary choices, and ordinary people. By the time you recognize the storm, it is already standing in your house."

I had never understood that saying when I was younger.

Back then, life had seemed simple. Wolves found their mates. Families grew. Children were born. Packs prospered. Problems appeared, of course, but most of them could be solved with strength, patience, or wisdom. I believed those things because I had never experienced the kind of loss that permanently changed a person. I had never watched happiness slip through my fingers. I had never mistaken disaster for a blessing.

Then I met Elowen.

Even now, years later, thinking about her felt like standing beneath sunlight after a long winter. Some people were beautiful because of their appearance. Others were beautiful because of their character. Elowen possessed both in such abundance that people naturally gravitated toward her without even realizing it. Wherever she went, rooms seemed brighter. Conversations became easier. Children followed her. Warriors respected her. The elders trusted her. She had a gift for making people feel seen, and in a pack where everyone constantly fought for status and recognition, that gift was rarer than gold.

She had become my mate during a spring gathering hosted by a neighboring pack. I still remembered the exact moment our eyes met across a crowded courtyard filled with music, laughter, and hundreds of wolves celebrating the season. The mate bond had slammed into me with enough force to steal the air from my lungs. One second I had been listening to a council discussion. The next, nothing else existed. There had only been her. Her silver dress moving in the evening breeze. Her surprised smile. The warmth in her eyes when she felt the bond too.

Some memories faded with time, but that one never did.

People often imagined that powerful love stories were dramatic. They expected endless passion and grand declarations. What they never understood was that the strongest relationships were usually built from ordinary moments. My happiest memories with Elowen were rarely the important ones. They were mornings spent drinking tea together before council meetings. Evenings walking through pack territory while discussing nothing particularly significant. Long conversations after everyone else had gone to sleep. The simple comfort of knowing that no matter how difficult the day became, she would be waiting for me when I returned home.

She never feared me.

That was one of the first things I loved about her.

Most people treated an Alpha carefully. Respectfully. Sometimes even fearfully. Elowen never did. She challenged me when I was wrong. Mocked me when I took myself too seriously. Ignored my rank whenever she felt like it. There were moments when council members would sit frozen in their chairs because she had just contradicted me in front of everyone. Then she would smile sweetly and continue speaking while the room waited for my reaction.

The truth was that I secretly enjoyed it.

She reminded me that before I was Alpha, I was simply a man.

Those years were the happiest of my life.

The pack flourished beneath our leadership. Trade agreements expanded. Territory disputes settled peacefully. Crime decreased. Families prospered. Every challenge felt manageable because we faced it together. Whenever problems arose, Elowen approached them with a level of patience I never possessed. She saw possibilities where I saw obstacles. She understood people in ways I never could. More than once, she prevented conflicts simply by speaking to the right person at the right time.

The pack loved her.

And she loved them right back.

When our son was born, I became convinced that life could not possibly improve any further. I had a healthy child. A thriving pack. A mate who somehow made every day better than the one before it. Looking back now, I realize those were the years when I became careless. Not careless with my responsibilities. Careless with my gratitude. I had become so accustomed to happiness that I started treating it like something permanent.

Nothing permanent exists.

Life eventually teaches that lesson to everyone.

The first time Elowen mentioned her younger sister, I barely paid attention. Families visited each other all the time. Relatives traveled between territories constantly. There was nothing unusual about it. We were sitting in our garden one afternoon while our son, Elias, slept inside the house. Elowen was reading correspondence from her family while I worked through council reports. The conversation seemed completely ordinary.

"My sister wants to visit for a few weeks."

I glanced up from my paperwork. "The one living with your parents?"

She smiled. "Yes."

I shrugged. "She's welcome."

At the time, those three words felt insignificant. I had no idea how much I would eventually regret them.

Valeria arrived two weeks later.

The first thing I noticed was how much she looked like Elowen.

The resemblance was striking enough to be unsettling. They shared the same hair color. The same eyes. Similar facial features. Similar smiles. At first glance, many people could have mistaken them for twins.

But similarities only survived on the surface. Everything underneath was different.

Where Elowen's warmth felt genuine, Valeria's felt practiced.

Where Elowen listened naturally, Valeria seemed to calculate.

Where Elowen attracted trust effortlessly, Valeria appeared determined to earn admiration by force.

I noticed those differences immediately.

Unfortunately, I seemed to be the only one.

Elowen adored her younger sister. The rest of the pack found Valeria charming. Even Elias liked her. Within weeks, she had integrated herself into daily life so smoothly that it felt as though she had always been there.

I remained cautious… not because I had evidence of wrongdoing. I was silent because instinct rarely failed me.

Something about her unsettled me, and the feeling only grew stronger as time passed.

At first, the incidents were small enough to dismiss. A hand lingering on my arm longer than necessary. Compliments that felt strangely personal. Conversations that drifted into inappropriate territory before I redirected them. Each individual occurrence seemed harmless. Together, however, they formed a pattern I could no longer ignore.

One afternoon, I walked into my office expecting privacy and found Valeria waiting inside. She claimed she wanted advice.

The excuse made little sense, even less sense when I noticed how she was dressed.

I ended the conversation within minutes.

Another time, she appeared outside my training grounds carrying refreshments no one had requested. The visit might have appeared innocent to anyone watching. It wasn't innocent. The smile she gave me made that abundantly clear.

The worst part was that she never crossed a line obvious enough to justify confrontation.

Everything remained hidden behind plausible explanations. Politeness. Innocence. Coincidence… the favorite weapons of manipulative people.

I began avoiding her whenever possible.

When she he noticed, the realization seemed to amuse her.

Months passed. Then one evening, I entered my bedroom and found Valeria standing near the balcony doors alone.

My mate wasn't there.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke. The setting sun painted the room gold while silence stretched between us.

Then Valeria smiled, and I immediately knew I was about to become angry.

"You're in the wrong room."

She laughed softly. "I know."

The response irritated me more than it should have. I ordered her to leave. Surprisingly, she did. But not before giving me a look I never forgot.

It was the look of someone who enjoyed creating discomfort. Someone who enjoyed testing boundaries. Someone who believed rules existed for other people.

That night, I barely slept. And unfortunately, things only became worse from there.

The following months turned into a constant battle of avoidance and patience. Every time I believed the situation had finally settled, Valeria found another way to insert herself into my life. Nothing dramatic. Nothing obvious. Just enough to create tension. Just enough to make me wonder whether I was imagining things.

I wasn't.

Deep down, I knew that.

The problem was proving it.

Elowen noticed my frustration long before I finally spoke about it. She knew me too well not to. She knew every expression. Every mood. Every sign that something was wrong. For weeks she watched me grow increasingly irritated without understanding why.

Then one night she finally asked.

We were sitting together after Orion had gone to sleep. The house was quiet. The moonlight spilled through the windows. For a brief moment, it felt like one of those peaceful evenings I loved so much.

Then I broke the illusion. "I want her gone." The words came out harsher than intended.

Elowen looked up from her book. Confusion immediately filled her face. "Who?"

I stared toward the window, exhaustion settling heavily on my shoulders. "Who else?"

The answer seemed obvious.

At least to me.

Realization slowly crossed her face.

"Valeria?"

I didn't answer. I didn't need to. The silence said enough.

For several moments, Elowen simply stared at me. Then she closed her book carefully and set it aside, the confusion in her expression deepening.

And finally, she asked the question I had been dreading…

"Why?"