Before I could say anything else, he was already out the door. I stood there, staring at the empty space he’d left behind, the calm shattering inside me. How could he keep doing this? Acting so normal, so loving?
I grabbed my keys and headed out, following his car at a distance, my heart pounding with every mile.
My stomach twisted as I watched him pull up to the healer’s office, and then she appeared. His mistress. Jaxon walked over and took her hand, leading her inside with a warmth I hadn’t felt from him in ages. It hit me like a punch to the gut—this wasn’t just a fling. They were here for a check-up, probably for the pup they were expecting.
I felt a dull, throbbing ache in my ring finger, where our bond should have been strong and steady. But now, it was like a broken link, frayed and painful, a reminder of everything I thought we had.
From my hiding spot, I could see Jaxon pause, his face clouding with something like regret. For a moment, I let myself hope he felt even a sliver of the hurt he’d caused. The woman glanced up at him, concerned.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice soft.
He gave her a gentle smile, brushing it off like it was nothing. "Just thinking," he said, then led her inside.
I leaned against my car, my breath coming in shaky gasps as reality closed in.
He’d made his choice, and it wasn’t me. Clearly not me.
I watched in silence, hidden in the shadow of a nearby tree, as Jaxon and Amara laughed together, sharing little touches and stolen glances. My heart twisted painfully when I saw him slide our ring off his finger and tuck it casually into his pocket. It was as if he’d erased every promise, every memory, every word he’d ever said to me in one thoughtless move.
He looked so at ease, so focused on her, that it was like I was invisible. I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to walk over and confront him, but my shift phone buzzed in my hand, breaking me from my trance. I glanced down to see files and reports filling my screen—information on his mistress, her entire background in black and white. Her name was Amara Ironpaw, a lorekeeper associate. She came from an average family, nothing special in status. But her youth, beauty, and that refined air she wore like a crown? Those traits must’ve been what captivated him.