chapter 6

Simona turned around and saw Dorian.

He had returned sooner than she expected.

She withdrew her hand from his grasp, her voice calm. "I sorted out some things I don't need, just tossed them. Better than letting them take up space."

Dorian didn't take it seriously, nodding, then reached out again to take her hand. When she sidestepped, he sulked, withdrawing his hand and following her upstairs.

The moment they entered the apartment, Dorian immediately sensed something was off—the tapestry that once displayed Simona's hand-drawn wolf pack totems and the shelves holding their hunting keepsakes, like fangs, were all gone.

Only the basic furniture remained, leaving an emptiness he couldn't quite put into words.

He asked, "Simona, why did you throw away so many things?"

Simona replied calmly, "Out with the old, in with the new. Thought I'd change up the style."

"Fair enough." Dorian tried to rekindle their old intimacy, softening his gaze.

"As long as you're happy, I'll go along with whatever you want."

He paused, then suggested, "How about we still go to that wolf pack totem art exhibit? After, we can grab some barbecue you used to like, then hit Ironclaw Pack Cinema for the new wolf documentary. It's been ages since we had a proper date."

Simona wanted to refuse, but couldn't find a reason.

The exhibit was something she genuinely wanted to see, and it was the final showcase of a Northern Wolf Pack's veteran artist. Being accompanied by others wouldn't necessarily be bad.

When the two reached the garage, Dorian opened the passenger door for Simona—but froze in surprise.

"Wait, I'll clear some of this first," he said apologetically.

Simona glanced at the passenger seat—there was a pink lumbar pillow and headrest, along with scattered hairbands and scrunchies.

Emma's voice echoed in her mind, dripping with sarcasm. "Pink—Rowena's favorite color. And he didn't even bother hiding it, just left all this out in the open. Disgusting man!"

Simona sighed quietly.

Indeed, they had engraved their affections into each other, yet they still dragged her into it, treating her like an insignificant backdrop.

She waved her hand lightly and said softly, "No need, I'll just sit in the back."

With that, she opened the car door and settled into the rear seat.

Seeing her so calm, Dorian panicked internally.

In the past, Simona had been almost obsessively protective of his passenger seat—she had said, "An Alpha's passenger seat should be reserved for the future Luna."

She had even gotten into a heated argument with a packmate who had accidentally taken the seat before.

Now, she didn't even give it a second glance.

He felt as if something was tugging at his chest, a dull ache spreading through him, a sense that an important bond was quietly slipping away.

His wolf, Ron, spoke just in time. "Why panic? She's finally acting like a proper future Luna—measured and sensible, not causing trouble. Rowena doesn't have much time left. She knows it, so she'll give in. You're her fated mate—she can't run from that."

"You're right," Dorian murmured. "Simona and I are fated mates. Sooner or later, we'll bond."

He forced himself to push down the strange emotions, started the car, and drove out of the parking garage.

Simona stared out the window the entire ride until her communicator buzzed. It was Robert's call.

She answered softly, "Robert."

"Simona, Noah just came by. I asked him, and he confirmed that you two are indeed fated mates and have been dating for some time. He even said the bonding ceremony could be done however you like, so I finally feel relieved."

Simona froze. Noah had helped me cover the truth?

Before she could react, Robert added, "By the way, Noah already ordered your bonding gown, made according to Frostmoon Pack traditions. Try it on when you get back and see if it fits."

"Bonding gown?" Simona was shocked.

"Yes, you didn't know? Oh no, that might be Noah's surprise for you. Just pretend I didn't say anything and make sure you come back soon!"

After the call ended, Simona was still thinking about why Noah had helped her cover the lie and even ordered her bonding gown.

Then she heard Dorian ask, "What gown?"

Simona stayed silent for a moment before answering, "My brother's friend is having her bonding ceremony, and I'm going back to help her choose the gown style."

"I see," Dorian replied, not pressing further.

He knew Simona had studied traditional wolf pack patterns and was particularly sensitive to bonding gown styles, so helping someone pick one seemed natural.

Still, a lingering unease pressed in his chest, making him feel suffocated, forcing him to take deep breaths to calm himself.

The feeling persisted until they reached the convention center, where he opened the car door and took her hand.

She didn't pull away, obediently letting him lead her. The suffocating tension that had been pressing at his chest instantly dissolved.

…

At the gallery, the veteran artist's works filled the entire hall, from totems depicting the origins of the wolf pack to landscapes of the Polar Night Sanctuary, each piece radiating the deep, rich heritage of their kind.

Simona studied them intently, occasionally brushing her fingertips over the placards, her eyes shining with rare fascination.

But her focus was repeatedly interrupted.

Dorian's communicator buzzed silently in his pocket. The faint vibration sounded unusually loud in the quiet gallery, drawing curious glances from other pack members nearby.

Finally, she said, "If you have something important, just go. I can take my time and look around by myself."