After Eight Years, My Mate Chose Her

I was still on the cold floor of the drafty Omega quarters, clutching the torn pieces of Colter’s baby blanket to my chest, when the heavy wooden door was kicked open. The rusted hinges screamed in protest.

Vincent stood in the doorway. His massive chest heaved, and his eyes were wild, bloodshot pools of panic. The intoxicating scent of rain and pine that usually surrounded him was completely choked out by the sour, metallic stench of his fear.

"Get up," he snarled.

I shrank back against the freezing stone wall, my fragile bones aching. "Vincent, please—"

"Shut up!" he roared.

His Alpha aura flooded the tiny room, heavy and suffocating. The sheer pressure of it slammed into my chest, stealing the air from my lungs. He didn't offer a hand. He lunged forward, his fingers wrapping around my frail bicep like a vice, and dragged me to my feet.

"They took her," he breathed, his voice trembling with a rage that wasn't meant for me. "The rogues took Amber into the Dead Zone. And you are going to help me get her back."

I stared at him, my mind struggling to process the absolute cruelty of his words. "You want to use me as bait?" I whispered, my voice cracking. "Vincent, I just woke up. I'm sick. I can't survive out there!"

"They want a Luna. I’ll give them one," he said coldly, his grip tightening until I whimpered. "Amber is the mother of my child. I will not lose her."

"I am your mate!" I cried out, fighting weakly against his iron hold. "I am Colter's mother!"

Vincent’s eyes darkened into pitch-black voids. He didn't see me. He only saw an obstacle. "I command you to walk into the Dead Zone and draw them out."

He dropped his voice into the terrifying, vibrating register of the Alpha command. It wasn't a request. It was a supernatural compulsion. My body instantly betrayed me. My spine snapped straight, and my legs began to move against my will, compelled by the absolute, crushing power of his rank. Tears streamed down my face as my own feet marched me out of the pack house and toward the jagged tree line.

The winter wind bit through my thin, scratchy Omega uniform. The snow soaked through my shoes, awakening the lingering, painful frost of the cryogenic stasis in my veins. Behind me, the pack warriors stopped at the border. Vincent stayed with them, hidden in the shadows, leaving me completely exposed in the freezing dark.

I stumbled deeper into the feral woods. The trees twisted like skeletal fingers against the moonless sky. Inside my mind, my fragile wolf whimpered, pacing wildly. *Danger. Mate betrayed us. Danger.*

A heavy branch snapped to my left.

I froze. From the shadows of a rotting oak tree, a massive, heavily scarred wolf stepped into the clearing. It didn't attack. Instead, it shifted, bones cracking and rearranging until a tall, rugged man stood before me in the freezing mud. He reeked of rotting meat and wet earth.

Silas. The ruthless leader of the feral rogues.

He didn't look like a man running from an Alpha's wrath. He looked incredibly amused.

"Well, well," Silas purred, circling me with slow, predatory steps. "The legendary Luna Elora. Or should I say, the disposable bait."

I backed away, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "Where is she?" I rasped, my breath pluming in the freezing air.

Silas threw his head back and laughed. The sound was dry and wicked. "Amber? Oh, she's perfectly safe back at the edge of the woods. She paid me handsomely for this little theatrical performance."

He stopped pacing, his yellow eyes locking onto mine with malicious glee. "She wanted to see if your mighty Alpha would actually trade his fated mate's life for an Omega's daughter. And look at that. He marched you right into the slaughterhouse without a second thought."

The words tore through my chest, sharper than any claw. Vincent knew I was weak. He knew I was his fated mate. Yet he willingly threw me to the wolves for a woman who had orchestrated the entire lie.

"Time to finish the job," Silas sneered. He took a step back and pulled a small, metallic canister from his coat pocket.

My eyes widened in pure terror. "No—"

Silas tossed it at my feet and pressed a detonator.

The world erupted in blinding, scorching white light. The shockwave slammed into my chest, lifting me off my feet and throwing me backward through the air. But it wasn't just fire and concussive force.

It was silver.

A dense cloud of burning silver dust and jagged shrapnel ripped through my skin. I hit the frozen ground with a sickening crunch. Agony, pure and concentrated, flooded my veins. The silver poisoning burned like liquid acid, melting through my flesh and diving straight into my soul.

Inside my mind, my wolf let out one final, blood-curdling scream.

I felt the exact, devastating moment she shattered. The bright, warm presence that had lived inside me since I was a teenager splintered into a million pieces, retreating into a suffocating, bottomless dark. She was gone.

Then, the pack mind-link—the constant, comforting hum of hundreds of voices that connected me to my home—snapped like a dry twig. The silence that rushed in was deafening. I was entirely severed.

I opened my mouth to scream, to beg for help, to cry out to the Moon Goddess for mercy.

Nothing came out.

My throat convulsed, tearing with the effort, but there was no sound. The sheer psychological terror and the catastrophic physical shock seized my vocal cords, locking them in a cage of absolute silence. I gasped, clawing at my own throat, but the silence remained unbroken.

I was wolfless. I was packless. And as the darkness finally pulled me into its freezing embrace, I realized I had lost my voice, too.