Chapter 4
“I’d rather die than go anywhere with you,” I spit the words into Joyce’s face. Her expression freezes, stunned by my declaration.
There’s absolutely no chance I’ll follow her. For all I know, she’s leading me into a trap.
Meanwhile, a plan begins to take shape in my mind. It’s straightforward: I’ll wait for nightfall, slip away unnoticed, and start over—far from this pack and everything tied to it.
“Alpha,” Joyce says suddenly, springing to her feet and lowering her head in a bow.
I turn, prepared to lash out at Theron with venom, but then I see his father standing beside him.
Immediately, I lower my gaze out of respect. Theron’s father has always been like a second father to me. He treated me as his own child, longing for a daughter he could never have due to his wife’s inability to conceive again.
“Alpha,” I greet him with a bow of my head.
“You’ve made a scene today. Don’t you understand how important this day is for Theron?” he says, his tone sharp and raised. I instinctively take a step back, stunned.
He’s never talked to me this way before.
“But… he’s my mate,” I reply quietly, hoping he’d understand. He always values the mate bond so deeply—I think he, of all people, would see why I made that scene and maybe even talk some sense into Theron.
“No,” he says flatly, “what you share with him is nothing more than a mistake—a flaw from the goddess that must be corrected. You can’t be his mate.”
I stare at him, disbelief clouding my eyes. This is the man who taught me to ride a bike, the one who comforted me after every scraped knee and bruised elbow, the man who once made me feel safe.
I always believed he’d be the one to stand by me.
Swallowing the lump rising in my throat, I fix my gaze on him.
“And why are you so determined to keep him from being with me?” I ask, lifting my chin in defiance, determined not to let his words break me.
The pain picks the perfect moment to make a return, sending me collapsing to my knees.
“See that? That right there proves my point. A leader is supposed to be strong, and his mate should be someone who makes him stronger,” he crouches down beside me, who’s now lying on the floor. “But you? You’re weak. Just a powerless orphan, no wolf, no strength—nothing of value to this pack.”
It feels like he’s hit me straight in the stomach.
Is that really how he’s felt about me all along?
My thoughts drift back to when Theron and I first told him we were together. I remember the way he smiled, and how Luna had smiled too.
Was that smile just a mask?
Has he always looked down on me like this?
“Take her to the infirmary. And make sure no one else in the pack hears the nonsense she’s been saying,” he orders coldly.
“Yes, Alpha,” Joyce responds, obedient like a trained puppy.
My strength keeps draining—I can barely hold myself upright.
I hear voices around me, and then Callum enters, lifting me into his arms like I weigh nothing at all.
I try to resist, to push him away, but my limbs won’t cooperate. My words tumble out, slurred and incoherent.
They set me down on the bed, and suddenly, hands are all over me.
“Stop, don’t touch me. Just leave me alone. I want this to be over. I want to die.” But no one listens.
“She’s going into forced heat!” the doctor shouts urgently.
I don’t know what that means—and honestly, I don’t care. I just want everything to stop.
“What does that mean?” Joyce asks, her voice trembling like she’s about to cry.
“If her mate doesn’t show up soon, she might lose control… or worse, she could die,” the doctor replies.
Joyce bolts for the door, probably to find Theron, but I grab her wrist.
“Don’t go,” I whisper. It’s humiliating to think about how I stormed out earlier, but letting him see me like this would be even worse.
“You can’t be serious!” she cries, the tears she’s been holding back finally falling. “I get that you’re upset, but this is your life. He’s not cruel—if he knew how serious this was, he’d come.”
“He doesn’t have to mark you,” the doctor adds. “Just being near you, letting his scent calm your wolf, might be enough until we figure out a permanent fix.”
Reluctantly, I release Joyce’s wrist. She hurries out.
Seconds tick by.
Then minutes.
Then hours.
I watch the sun begin to set through the window across the room—but still, no sign of Theron.
Eventually, Joyce returns. The look on her face says everything before she even opens her mouth.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, dropping to her knees beside me.
I gaze at her.
Right now, even forming words feels exhausting.
I collapse onto the bed.
This is it—this moment is truly the end.
The way I’m going to die.
Part of me thought he’d at least show some concern.
Did he react when you told him?
Did he care at all that my life was slipping away?
These thoughts whirl around in my head as I lie motionless.
At some point during the night, the pain fades from my body.
The dizziness in my skull eases…
I flex my fingers—they respond.
I sit up too quickly.
He’s here—he actually showed up.
“Careful,” he says, but the voice isn’t Theron’s.
He’s leaving his scent on me.
Though the darkness hides most of him, I can tell—this is not my mate.
