I Left After My Mate Chose My Sister

The air in the cabin thickened as Max's body began to contort. His bones cracked, muscles rippled beneath his skin, and in seconds, a massive black wolf stood where the man had been. The transformation was fluid, practiced—the mark of a powerful Alpha.

I stumbled backward, my heart hammering against my ribs. Something primal and terrifying rose within me at the sight of him.

"No," I whispered, pressing myself against Roland's back. "No, please..."

Roland's hands found mine, steady and warm. "You're safe," he murmured. "He won't hurt you."

But I couldn't breathe. The black wolf's eyes—Max's eyes—fixed on me with desperate intensity. He took a step forward, and I cried out, ducking behind Roland completely.

"She's not lying," Roland said firmly. "She doesn't remember you."

The wolf whined, a sound so mournful it made my chest ache despite my fear. Then, as quickly as he'd transformed, Max shifted back to human form.

He was naked, but seemed not to care. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face haggard with grief.

"Tessa," he whispered, reaching into his pocket. "Please."

He held out his hand, and in his palm gleamed my Luna pendant—the crescent moon with embedded moonstones that I'd left behind.

"I thought..." His voice broke. "I thought if I brought this..."

I shook my head, backing away until I hit the wall. "I don't want it."

"You left it," Max said, tears streaming down his face now. "You left everything behind."

Something about his tears made my head pound. I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to ease the sudden pressure.

"The scent," Roland said quietly. "It still has her scent."

Max nodded, extending his hand further. "Just smell it. Please."

Against my better judgment, I stepped forward. The pendant dangled from his fingers, spinning slowly. I leaned closer, inhaling cautiously.

The scent hit me like a physical blow—my own scent, mixed with pine and earth and something distinctly Max. The Blood River forest. Our cabin. His arms around me.

Fragments flashed through my mind: running through trees, Max's laugh, a ceremonial dress laid out on a bed...

My knees buckled. The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was Max's face, transformed from despair to desperate hope.

---

I woke to voices arguing nearby.

"She needs time," Roland insisted, his tone low but firm.

"There is no time," Max countered. "Sasha is dying."

The name sent a jolt through me. Sasha. My sister.

I opened my eyes to find myself in a different room—a small healing chamber with herbs hanging from the rafters. Roland sat beside my bed, while Max paced at the foot.

"She's awake," Roland said softly.

Max froze, then slowly approached. "Tessa?"

I pushed myself up against the pillows. "I remember... pieces."

"Enough to understand?" he asked, his voice raw.

I nodded slowly. The diagnosis. The betrayal. The flight. But also—"Sasha is really dying?"

"Yes." Max's eyes filled with tears. "The Wolfsbane Rot... it's killing her wolf. She has days, maybe weeks."

"And you want me to..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Say goodbye," Max whispered. "She needs closure. We all do."

Roland's hand found mine, squeezing gently. "Whatever you decide, I'm with you."

I looked between them—Max desperate and broken, Roland steady and supportive. The choice should have been easy, but my heart was a battlefield of conflicting loyalties.

"I'll go," I finally said. "For Sasha. Not for you."

Relief flooded Max's face. "Thank you."

"But I won't be alone with you," I continued, my voice stronger now. "Roland comes as my guard."

Max flinched but nodded. "Anything."

"And you don't touch me," I added, the memory of him with Sasha still fresh in my mind. "Not ever again."

---

The journey back to Blood River territory was silent and tense. Max had arranged for a large SUV with tinted windows—protection from curious eyes as we crossed pack lands.

I sat between Roland and the window, as far from Max as possible. Every few miles, pain would lance through my chest—the mate bond stretching and pulling.

"You're pale," Roland observed, offering me water.

I took it gratefully, avoiding Max's gaze in the rearview mirror.

"Here," Max said, handing back a blanket. "The air conditioning is cold."

I flinched away from his outstretched hand. "Roland will give it to me."

Roland took the blanket, his eyes never leaving Max's face as he draped it over my shoulders.

"You should eat something," Max tried again, producing a small bag of fruit and nuts.

I turned to Roland. "Would you get me something from the pack?"

Roland reached for his own bag instead. "I have dried berries here. Better than his processed food."

Max's hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. I could see him watching in the mirror as Roland gently fed me berries, his fingers brushing my lips with each offering.

The bond pulsed painfully again, and I winced.

"It hurts," I whispered to Roland.

"I know," he murmured back. "But you're strong enough to bear it."

Max's eyes flashed in the mirror—his wolf responding to my pain. But he said nothing, just drove faster toward the territory that had once been my home.