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For six years, I never spoke a word in front of my mate. Why? My voice. My human frequency. It physically destroyed him. I believed them. I let Pack healers carve into my skull FIVE TIMES trying to "fix" my broken frequency. I cried myself unconscious. Eventually, I stopped talking altogether. Then one day? I found his "specialized hearing aid" on the floor. Guess what was playing inside. Not some psychic filter. Not medical tech. Just... music. And that's when I heard my son laughing with his dad: "I wanna pretend Mom's voice hurts me too, so I can ignore the mute human." Yeah. They were faking it the whole time. At dinner, Fenrir suddenly dropped his fork and rubbed his temple. "Mom, I think my mindlink's breaking. It hurts." For the first time in years—Garrick sitting right there—I opened my mouth. "We'll deal with it after dinner." My voice came out rough. Ruined. Like I'd swallowed broken glass and wolfsbane. Fenrir's face scrunched up immediately, playing his part. Garrick glanced up. Then went right back to eating like I hadn't said a word. I looked at him across the table, calmly chewing venison like nothing had changed. I knew exactly what this was— Father-son scam, round two. Something twisted in my ch//est. I had to breathe deep just to keep it together. Garrick knew how much I cared about our half-blood son. And he still let him pull this bullsh!t. If I hadn't already figured out the truth, I'd be crying right now, dragging Fenrir to the Pack healer like an idi0t. Fenrir poked at his food, then wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, Mom! You're talking again! Dad's gonna get psychic feedback!" "Your voice is so annoying. Sounds like a dying animal or something." "I literally just told you my head hurts and you don't even care. So you were just pretending this whole time, huh?" I put down my fork. "You know why I sound like this? Because I destroyed my voice—my human voice—for your father. Five surgeries trying to fix a frequency problem that never existed. And your mindlink? Let him take you to the healer. I'm done." Saying that much out loud? Garrick looked genuinely shocked. All these years I'd kept silent for him. Barely spoke. My voice used to be beautiful. Now I sound like I gargle gravel and ash. Can't sing anymore. When I absolutely had to talk, I kept it short. Real short. Sometimes just his frown or hand pressed to his temple made me feel so guilty I couldn't eat for days. I questioned myself, questioned healers. But never once thought Garrick was lying. Garrick raised his hand, face twisting like he was in agony. "Maren, I'm sorry—your frequency's spiking again. My head's exploding." "Look, I know this su//cks. But what if Fen inherited my sensitivity? What if your human frequency hurts him too? Just... don't blame yourself." Normally I'd panic and switch to signing immediately. Now I just said flatly: "I won't blame myself." "It's been six years and you still can't stand my voice. Maybe that's all I need to know." "Let's sever the mate bond." Garrick froze. Only Fenrir's eyes lit up—golden wolf-glow flickering in his irises. "Mom, you really wanna break the bond? Fine, but I'm not going with you. You're just a human—how could you even take care of me? I need a real wolf parent." Right then—beep. The door lock disengaged. I didn't even have to look. I knew who had her fingerprint access in our system. My half-sister Vespera walked in like she owned the place, arms full of imported chocolates and silk-wrapped gift boxes. Fenrir couldn't contain himself. "Aunt Vespera! Oh my God, Mom's severing the bond with Dad!" "Now you can be my new mom!" Vespera shot me this calculated look, about to say something with that fake-sweet smile. I cut her off. "Why does she have fingerprint access to our house?" "That's because—" "Because Vespera's always bringing supplies for the Pack. She's family, so I added her fingerprint." Garrick didn't even blink. Fenrir jumped in immediately, his wolf-glow eyes brightening. "Yeah! You never let me eat anything good, but Aunt Vespera always brings the best stuff!" "And her voice is like a thousand times better than yours! When she howls, the whole Pack stops to listen!" "Dad can't stand your human voice because it sounds awful!" Bitterness rose in my throat. I took a few deep breaths. So me caring about our half-blood son's health, keeping him from shifting too young or gorging on raw meat—that's what made him hate me. Vespera's voice was gorgeous. She was a silver-voice wolf—born to perform at Pack ceremonies. But here's the thing: if I hadn't destroyed my vocal cords with all those surgeries after bonding with Garrick, I could've won that human singing competition years ago. Could've had a career too. "Enough." Garrick frowned at Fenrir. Then turned to me. "Maren, go make some moonflower tea for Vespera. She's got the Howling Trials in a few days." My mention of severing the bond? He acted like I never said it. Suddenly I realized—this was always how he treated me. What he didn't want to hear? Ignored it, fake hearing aids and all. When I used sign language? Looked right through me like I wasn't even there. Sometimes I'd ask him to grab flowers on his way back from patrol—he'd forget every time. But when Vespera visited? He remembered her trial schedules. He remembered she liked the house temperature at exactly seventy-six degrees. He remembered she loved moonflower tea. I walked into the kitchen, came back out with the kettle and dried flowers. The three of them were already deep in conversation in the living room—talking Pack politics, territorial disputes, things I'd never be part of. Perfect little wolf family. And me? I could never fit in. Because I was their defect—the human frequency that supposedly broke their Alpha. BANG! I slammed the kettle down on the table. All three heads whipped toward me—Fenrir's eyes flashing gold, Garrick's jaw tightening. "You want tea for her? Make it yourself. I'm done." Garrick actually looked confused. "Done? Doing what? You're home all day anyway." "Vespera works her ass off for the Pack and just wants some family time. You can't be decent to your own sister?" I laughed. My eyes bu//rned. "What, my voice is supposed to give you psychic feedback, right? So why isn't your head exploding right now?" "Unless your mindlink magically healed. So let me make this real simple: I. Want. To. Sever. The. Bond." "Your voice isn't spiking my frequency anymore. I'm adjusting to it, okay?" "What's with you? Stop saying sever. You don't just break a mate bond." Garrick turned away, jaw clenched tight, trying not to lose it. Vespera put on her wounded face and reached for the water pitcher. "Don't fight because of me. God, maybe I should just leave." "Forget the tea—let's go eat, my treat—AH!" The glass pitcher slipped from her hands and shattered. Broken glass flew up—one shard slashed deep into my palm. Blood started running down. Stung like a b!tch. Human blood—slow to heal, no wolf regeneration. "Ah!" Fenrir jumped up and shoved me hard—half-shifted strength behind it. I stumbled back, knocked into the kettle on the table. It tipped, scalding water splashing across my already bleeding hand. I je//rked back—but too late. When I looked up, Fenrir was cradling Vespera's finger—the tiniest scratch—gently blowing on it like she'd been mortally wounded. Garrick had somehow found the first aid kit—the one I'd stocked and organized—eyes locked on Vespera. Not even a glance at my mangled, bu//rned hand. Watching this, my mind went somewhere else. When did it start? During recovery after each surgery when I was too weak to cook or clean the house? Or that time Garrick took Fenrir to Vespera's birthday performance at the Grand Pack Hall? It was snowing that night. I drove through a blizzard to bring them their winter coats. Security wouldn't let me past the doors—"Pack members only, ma'am." I waited outside till the ceremony ended. They'd already left through the back entrance, heading to some exclusive wolf-only restaurant. I went home clutching their stupid coats and caught a fever that lasted three days. When Garrick finally came back, Fenrir was still going on and on about how incredible Vespera's howling was. When Garrick noticed me shivering on the couch, his eyes flickered. I started crying, tried to speak. But then he tapped his fake hearing aid. "Since you didn't want to join us at the ceremony, stay home next time." Garrick grabbed the coats and tossed out one more line. "And don't mention severing the bond again." Vespera's eyes darkened at that, but she left smiling, holding Fenrir's clawed hand. As the door shut, I heard Fenrir's voice through the wood. "Dad, you've loved Aunt Vespera for so many years—why didn't you bond with her first?" I watched through the window as Garrick's shoulders sagged. "My mindlink hadn't fully recovered back then. I wasn't strong enough for her. Wasn't Alpha enough." So the bond that made me so happy? Just someone else's leftovers. I sat there surrounded by broken glass and my own blood, pulled out my phone, and called my lawyer. "I'm severing my mate bond. I need the paperwork. Two copies." After I hung up, I started packing. The first jacket Garrick gave me after our bonding ceremony didn't fit anymore, but I could never throw it out. Couldn't forget the way he looked at me that day—like I was his whole world. And the drawings Fenrir gave me on his birthday. I always thought he was a brat—caused trouble nonstop, half-shifted and breaking things. But that birthday, he gave me a drawing of us. Told me his birthday was the day I almost died giving birth to him, so he wanted to make me happy. And all those little things he brought home from the woods—shiny rocks, feathers, wildflowers—like a wolf pup dropping treasures at my feet. I threw everything in a metal bin, dragged it to the backyard, and set it all on fire. While they were out at some Pack dinner, Vespera sent me photos. A "casual" group shot—I could see the fresh b!te mark on Garrick's neck. Right where a mate mark should be. "Too bad you couldn't make it tonight. The ceremony was beautiful, food's incredible." Background showed the Ironpine Pack's sacred grounds—full moon rising, bonfires blazing. Vespera posted it on the Pack's private social network. Moira—my mother-in-law—was first to react. She commented: [Always knew you were Garrick's true mate ❤️ Still radiant! You two belong together ?] Less than a minute later, the Pack group chat exploded. Someone tagged me. [@Maren when's cub #2 happening?? ? More cubs = stronger Pack, you know what I mean ?] I didn't even think. Just typed: [Let him have #2 with Vespera ?] Then left the Pack chat. Half an hour later, Garrick came storming back. Slammed the bedroom door so hard the frame cracked. "Maren, was it really necessary to say that sh!t in front of the entire Pack? With all the Elders watching?" "Vespera's been crying for hours! You know she's sensitive—you just humiliated her!" I looked up at him. "What's humiliating—what I said? Or you Vespera behind my back?" CRACK— His hand snapped across my face—full Alpha strength behind it. My cheek split open. Blood dripped down. Human skin, no healing factor. Garrick's eyes widened—instant regret flickering—but he forced himself to stay cold. Then a ceramic vase smashed into my head. "You're so mean to Aunt Vespera—I hate you!" Fenrir's eyes were fully golden now, claws out, canines extended. He threw the vase, then bolted to his room. Blood poured from my scalp into my eyes. Everything went red. "sh!t—Maren, you okay?" Garrick panicked a little, grabbing towels to stop the bleeding. He'd always been distant with me. Before, even this much concern would've made my whole week. Not anymore. I shoved his hands away, my voice flat. "Don't touch me." Instead of relief, Garrick felt this wave of something he couldn't name—unease, maybe panic. But he crushed it down fast. After all, I was the one who'd begged to bond with him. Back then his mindlink was still damaged—he couldn't lead hunts, couldn't fight properly, felt completely worthless as an Alpha. I was the only one who didn't care. The only one who wanted him anyway. He watched me clean my own wound—human hands shaking, no wolf healing to help. His voice softened. "Look, Vespera just doesn't think before she speaks. She doesn't get boundaries, but she means well." "I only spend time with her because she's your sister." "Your voice doesn't hurt me anymore, so let's make this work. I'll keep my distance from Vespera. Okay?" Keep his distance from Vespera? The photos on her private feed—visible only to me—showed fresh b!te marks, matching rings, intimate moments during full moon runs. If Garrick had said this six months ago, maybe I'd have been stupid enough to believe him. But I couldn't get past the years of lies. Even now, he hadn't admitted his mindlink worked perfectly fine. I smiled bitterly to myself. Until I got those bond severance papers, I'd play along. That night, first time ever, I didn't sleep facing Garrick. He turned away too. Phone screen dim but bright enough to light half the room. He accidentally played a voice message—Vespera's laugh, breathy and intimate. Garrick shot halfway up, checking if I was asleep. I closed my eyes. Didn't sleep till dawn. Sunday morning, Garrick usually slept in after patrol, but his alarm went off early. I glanced over and saw the reminder: "Vespera's Howling Trials rehearsal." Garrick got ready like he was going to war. Picked through a row of jackets I'd bought him—chose one I'd never seen before. Then slipped on a silver ring in front of the mirror. Actually, not unfamiliar. I'd seen Vespera wearing the matching one. He finished getting dressed, walked out, found me sitting in bed with my tablet. Froze for a second. "So where's breakfast? Fen wanted those venison eggs you make—he mentioned it yesterday." I didn't look up from my tablet. "You're running late anyway. Grab something on your way out." Fenrir had been waiting in the kitchen for breakfast. Now he was pissed. Stuck his tongue out at me. Dramatically covered his ears like my voice was poison. "FINE! I'm never talking to you again!" I still didn't look up. Just switched to my phone and kept scrolling. Not long after Garrick left with Fenrir, the bank called. "Ms. Coldbrook? Just wanted to let you know—Mr. Ravencrest came in and emptied your family vault. Took all the moonstone heirlooms." My heart dropped. I didn't have much worth keeping—just those moonstone heirlooms in the family vault. They'd been passed down through my bloodline for generations. My human family's only real treasure. Even during Garrick's worst years—when his mindlink was damaged and he couldn't lead hunts, when the Pack nearly kicked him out—I refused to sell them. I called Garrick over and over. He rejected the first call. Tried again. And again. Eighteenth try, he finally picked up. "Why did you take my family's moonstones?!" Garrick's voice was casual, almost bored: "Vespera needs them for tomorrow's Howling Trials. The theme's lunar heritage. Just borrowing them for a few days. Relax, they won't get lost." Click— He hung up on me. I grabbed my keys, drove straight to the Pack's ceremonial grounds where Vespera was rehearsing. Backstage, Vespera had just finished her practice howl, sprawled on the couch like royalty. My family's moonstones dripping from her ears and throat—glowing faintly under the stage lights. Fenrir kneeling beside her, fanning her with his hands. Face worshipful. Garrick next to her, massaging her shoulders. Some Pack elder nearby said, all reverent: "That cub treats Vespera like his true mother. Beautiful bond." "Hey, who are you?" I shoved past the wolves blocking my way. "Vespera, give me back my moonstones!" Octavia—Vespera's assistant—grabbed me by the throat and slammed me to the ground. "Who are you? Vespera doesn't steal from humans." Garrick's eyes narrowed. "Maren, I told you I'm borrowing the stones. Do you have to make a scene?" "Sis, I think there's been a misunderstanding. Tell you what—I'll return them after the trials. Just sit down and have some water first." Vespera smiled, all fake sweetness. But Octavia wasn't playing nice. She signaled two massive Pack enforcers to pin me down—hands like iron vices on my shoulders. "You barge into a sacred rehearsal, you apologize first! They're just rocks—who hasn't seen moonstones before?!" "GET OFF ME!" I thrashed, human strength useless against wolves. Garrick looked disgusted. Like I was embarrassing him in front of his Pack. "Maren, would it kill you to just apologize?!" They dragged me forward, forced a glass of water into my shaking hands. "Give it to her. Now." I handed it to Vespera, jaw clenched. She took a tiny sip. Then dropped the glass. "AH!! It's scalding!" Octavia's lips curled into a vicious smile. "Oh my God, you can't even check the temperature? Were you trying to bu//rn her throat? She's got the Howling Trials tomorrow!" She backhanded me across the face—claws out, cutting deep. "Time to teach this human a lesson." One of the enforcers brought over a steaming cup—I could smell it from here. Wolfsbane-laced water. My eyes went wide. I fought like he11, but they were too strong. My last hope—I looked at Garrick. "Garrick, Garrick please make them stop!" Next thing I knew, someone grabbed my jaw—claws digging in—and forced it open. Boiling wolfsbane water poured into my mouth. God, it bu//rned. Like swallowing molten silver. My whole body convulsed. They didn't stop till my throat was raw, my stomach on fire, my vision going black. Then they let me go. I collapsed on the floor, clawing at my ruined throat. Couldn't make a sound. Couldn't even scream. Garrick stood over me, hands in his pockets, face blank. "Vespera's people aren't cruel. You're just dramatic. You humiliated her in front of the entire Pack—call it even." I crawled forward, grabbed the moonstones off Vespera's neck with shaking hands. They kicked me out of the ceremonial grounds. --- Next night at the Howling Trials, Vespera basked in the Pack's cheers and howls, walked onto the sacred platform under the full moon. Smiled, all confident, tilted her head back to start her ceremonial howl—but then her face twisted. No sound came out. Suddenly—CRACK! The moonfire torches exploded. Way too early—those were supposed to light after her howl. But instead of silver flames, black sm0ke poured out. And something else rained down from the trees. Wolfsbane flowers. Hundreds of them. Right then, someone in the crowd screamed. "Oh my God, look at the banner!" Vespera whipped around. Her face went white. Behind her, projected onto the sacred oak's trunk in blazing letters: [CONGRATULATIONS TO HOMEWRECKER VESPERA NIGHTHOLLOW!] [WISHING YOU AND MY MATE GARRICK RAVENVREST A LIFETIME OF LIES TOGETHER!]

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So my werewolf husband wore FAKE hearing aids for 6 years just to avoid talking to me. For SIX YEARS, I didn't speak. Not a word. Not to him, not to our son—because they told me my human voice was literally killing my Alpha mate through the mindlink. I believed them. I let Pack healers carve into ...