Chapter 7

Matthew's POV

I stared at the prescription bottle on my desk, the small white pills promising temporary oblivion. My fingers hovered over the cap before I pulled back, remembering the words of that nursing student at State University.

“'Valerian root tea can help with insomnia,' she'd said, her voice surprisingly steady. 'And maybe some lavender oil for the nightmares.'”

The gentle knock on my office door interrupted my thoughts. I quickly slid the pill bottle into my desk drawer.

"Come in," I called, straightening the papers on my desk.

The door opened to reveal Abigail, one of our pack's younger members. Recently turned nineteen, she'd been making it increasingly obvious that she was interested in the position of Luna—a position I had no intention of filling.

"Alpha Matthew," she smiled, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

"Just reviewing some reports," I replied, gesturing to the stack of papers. "What can I do for you, Abigail?"

She stepped further into the office, her flowery perfume a bit too strong for my enhanced senses. "A few of us are having a bonfire party tonight at the creek. Nothing fancy, just some music, food, maybe a few drinks." Her smile widened. "It would mean a lot if you could join us."

"I appreciate the invitation," I said, already formulating my excuse, "but I have these security assessments to complete by tomorrow."

Her face fell slightly. "Oh, but surely you can spare a couple of hours? You work so hard, Alpha." She perched on the edge of my desk, closer than professional boundaries would dictate. "Everyone says you never come to any events anymore. We miss having you around."

I felt a flicker of irritation at her persistence, but kept my expression neutral. "Perhaps another time. The pack's security takes priority."

She leaned forward slightly. "I could help you with those reports afterward," she suggested, her tone making it clear she was offering more than administrative assistance.

"That won't be necessary." I stood, signaling the end of our conversation. "The party sounds enjoyable. I hope you all have a good time."

Recognizing defeat, Abigail nodded and slid off my desk. "The invitation stands if you change your mind."

As she reached the door, I added, "Please remind everyone to stay within pack boundaries. The security team reported unusual scents near the creek last week."

"Of course, Alpha." She gave me one last smile before leaving.

Through my open window, I could hear her rejoin her friends waiting outside the community center.

"Well?" one of them asked.

"Another rejection," Abigail sighed. "I don't get it. He's so distant these days."

"Maybe he's just not into you," another voice teased.

"It's not just me," Abigail defended. "When was the last time anyone saw him at a pack gathering that wasn't official business? He's becoming a total recluse."

"My mom says he works too hard," a third voice added. "Says he needs to find a mate before he burns out."

I closed the window, but not before hearing Abigail's final comment: "Good luck with that. The man's practically married to his paperwork."

If they only knew the truth.

Most people in the pack believed I simply hadn't found my fated mate yet. I'd let them think that—it was easier than explaining the truth. Only my Beta James, his wife Olivia, and a few others knew I wasn't missing my mate; I'd lost her.

"Fate's cruelest joke," I muttered, running my hand through my disheveled hair. "Connecting us only to tear us apart."

That was the thing about fated mates—the Moon Goddess brought you together, made you feel whole for the first time in your life, then expected you to survive when half of your soul was ripped away. Two years since the attack, and the wound felt as fresh as the day it happened.

Sleep had become my enemy. Each time I closed my eyes, I was back there, watching her die, powerless to save her. So I walked instead, night after night, wearing paths in the carpet of my office and the hallways of our community center.

For the first time in months, I hesitated before taking my usual sleeping pill. I'd known the dangers of long-term use—hell, I'd lectured patients about it back when I still practiced medicine regularly. But knowing something and acting on it were entirely different things when sleep brought nothing but memories of blood and death.

Maybe tonight I could try something different. If Rachel could see me now, wouldn't she want me to stop drowning myself this way?

I reached for the bottom drawer of my office's medicine cabinet, pushing aside bandages and antiseptic to find the herbs I'd stored there months ago but never used. I wasn't primarily a doctor anymore—hadn't been since taking over as Alpha of Spring Valley pack. Six months after Rachel died, my father had insisted I step into the leadership role, believing responsibility might pull me from my grief.

On the surface, it had worked. During daylight hours, I managed pack affairs efficiently, occasionally treating seriously ill members when my medical expertise was needed. That's why I kept the medicine cabinet stocked—officially. The sleeping pills were my private supply.

Everyone thought I was fine. Healthy. Normal. Only James knew about the insomnia, the nightmares that visited me nightly.

I brewed the herbs into a bitter tea, not bothering with honey. The bitterness was nothing compared to what lived inside me. I drank it slowly at my desk, reviewing security reports without really seeing them.

I don't remember when I fell asleep.

I felt something warm and moist on my face, like steam rising from a cup. My wolf, Hati, senses registered another presence—too close—before I even opened my eyes. When I did, I jolted upright at the sight of a face mere inches from mine.

My fist was already cocked back before I recognized James. He jumped backward, hands raised defensively.

"Hey! It's me," he said quickly, keeping a safe distance now. "Easy, Matthew."

I lowered my arm, heart still hammering against my ribs. "What the hell, James? You know better than to get that close to a sleeping wolf."

"I was checking if you were breathing," he said, setting a steaming mug of coffee on my desk. "You were so still I thought you might have finally managed to work yourself to death."

Most Betas would have shown deference when talking to their Alpha—a lowered gaze, a more submissive posture—but James rarely did. We'd grown up together, chasing each other through the forests before either of us knew what positions we'd eventually hold.

In some ways, I appreciated that he didn't bow and scrape like others might. Having my childhood friend look me in the eye while speaking his mind felt like one of the few authentic interactions I still had.

I straightened, feeling vertebrae pop in protest. "Just fell asleep reviewing those security reports from the Autumn Valley border." The lie came easily, practiced.

He gestured to the empty teacup on my desk. "Trying something new for the insomnia?"