Farewell, Alpha

The video of my bloody confrontation with the reporter went viral across all social media networks.

Silas publicly issued a chilling Alpha command: The mate bond will never be broken. Anyone who dares to harass my mate will face execution by the pack.

That very afternoon, Chloe's reporter friend was fired and banished from Silvercrown territory.

Online, the wolves' comments were vicious.

"She's so toxic. If she doesn't want to be married to the Alpha, she can just run away! Now she's playing the victim."

"She claims to be his 'first love,' but she's just a manipulator."

"She sold him out for money when he was weak, and came crawling back when he became the Alpha. Absolutely disgusting."

Suddenly, an anonymous user commented: Shut your filthy mouths. If you don't know the truth, stop barking.

People flooded the replies, demanding to know the truth.

The truth? It was almost unbearably cliché.

Years ago, Silas had been poisoned by a rival pack. The venom was destroying his wolf.

The pack healer told me he wouldn't last a week.

The only cure was a direct, voluntary transplant of a healthy wolf core.

Doing so would strip the donor of their wolf, drastically shorten their lifespan, and subject them to a slow, agonizing death.

The night he slipped into a coma, I sat by his bedside.

My mother begged me not to do it.

"Aria," she cried, holding my hand. "He's a good boy. But if you do this, you will die."

"I know, Mom," I whispered, "but he will live."

I remembered when we were teenagers. He only had twelve dollars to his name. He bought me a ten-dollar meal, and used the remaining two dollars to buy us each a drink. He lied and said he had already eaten, just watching me eat with a tender smile. He was an orphan, treated like trash by the world, yet he poured all his love into me.

Because he was so exceptionally good to me, I simply couldn't bear to let him die.

My chest was cracked open. I gave him my core, my strength, my inner wolf.

When he woke up, fully healed and surging with Alpha power, I was already gone.

I left a letter saying I had found a rich human to marry because I was sick of his poverty and craved the human world.

I knew his pride.

I knew that if he thought I had sacrificed my life for him, it would completely destroy him.

Ten years had passed, but that memory still brought physical pain. It felt like my chest was being cracked open all over again.

I coughed up black blood once more.

It hurts so much, Mom.