My Mate Blocked Our Bond While I Was Dying

The supply convoy crawled along the narrow forest road, our wagons loaded with precious medical supplies for the Black Moon Pack. I rode at the front beside James, my body still aching from yesterday's training but my mind sharp with focus.

"Stay alert," James murmured, scanning the trees. "We're nearing Silverfang territory."

I nodded, my newly awakened senses picking up the faintest scents on the breeze. Something wasn't right. The forest was too quiet.

"Hold," I called, raising my hand. "Something's wrong."

The convoy halted. James looked at me questioningly.

"Rogues," I whispered, catching the acrid scent of unfamiliar wolves. "At least fifteen. Surrounding us."

James's eyes widened as he caught the scent too late. "Form defensive positions!" he shouted.

We were outnumbered three to one. The mercenaries burst from the trees with coordinated precision that spoke of military training. These weren't ordinary rogues—they were professionals.

"Protect the supplies!" James roared, shifting into his wolf form.

I remained human, my mind racing through tactical options. Direct confrontation would mean casualties we couldn't afford.

"They're trying to flank us," I realized, watching their movements. "James, take four warriors and circle behind them. Use the ridge for cover."

James hesitated. "But you—"

"Go!" I commanded, my Alpha tone emerging naturally. "I'll hold the center."

The warriors obeyed instantly. I grabbed a fallen branch as a makeshift weapon.

"Form a pincer," I instructed the remaining warriors. "We'll squeeze them between us."

The mercenaries faltered at our unexpected strategy. Their leader—a scarred wolf with a missing ear—growled in confusion.

"Who's in command?" he demanded.

I stepped forward. "I am."

His laugh turned to shock as I lunged forward, my stick striking his forearm with precision. "A little Omega thinks she can lead?"

"Former Omega," I corrected, dodging his counterattack. "Now White Wolf."

The battle was brutal but brief. My pincer maneuver worked perfectly—the mercenaries found themselves trapped between two forces, unable to exploit their superior numbers.

I was surveying the damage when pain exploded in my side. A rogue had snuck behind me, his claws tearing through my flesh.

"Olivia!" James shouted, finishing off his opponent and racing toward me.

I collapsed to one knee, blood soaking my shirt. Through blurring vision, I saw Parker burst through the trees, his massive black wolf form radiating fury.

The remaining mercenaries didn't stand a chance. Parker tore through them like a force of nature, his roars shaking the forest. I'd never seen such raw power—such controlled rage.

"Parker," I gasped as he shifted back to human form beside me.

His hands were gentle despite his rage, lifting me carefully. "Who did this?" he demanded.

"The rogues," I managed. "They're mercenaries. Paid to attack us."

Parker's eyes flashed amber as he carried me toward the pack house. "We'll find out who sent them."

---

Back at the infirmary, Parker refused to let anyone else tend my wounds. His fingers trembled slightly as he cleaned the gashes in my side.

"You could have been killed," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"But I wasn't," I replied weakly. "The tactic worked."

"You're a natural commander." His eyes met mine. "Where did you learn that maneuver?"

I hesitated. "Old war journals. Travis thought they were useless, but I read them all."

Parker's jaw tightened. "Of course he did."

As he applied healing salve to my wounds, something inside me finally broke. Three years of suppression, of pretending I was worthless—it all came flooding out.

"I thought I was nothing," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "For so long, I believed him."

Parker set aside the salve and gathered me in his arms. "You were never nothing, Olivia."

I buried my face against his chest, feeling truly safe for the first time in years. "I don't know who I am anymore."

"You're a White Wolf," he murmured into my hair. "You're a warrior. You're..."

"Mate," I finished for him, looking up into his eyes.

His breath caught. "Not yet," he said gently. "But soon, if you want that."

---

"The camp is here," Parker said two days later, pointing to a crude map. "The mercenary's phone led us to this location."

I studied the layout of the rogue encampment. "We need to move quickly. They'll have moved Georgina by now."

Parker nodded. "You're sure you're up for this?"

"I need to see her," I said firmly. "I need to understand."

The raid was swift and silent. We captured the remaining mercenaries and found ourselves facing a small cabin at the center of the camp.

"She's inside," Parker confirmed.

I approached slowly, my heart pounding. When I pushed open the door, I froze.

A woman sat bound to a chair—a woman who looked exactly like me.

"Georgina?" I whispered.

She lifted her head, and I saw my own eyes staring back at me.

"Who are you?" she asked hoarsely.

"I'm Olivia," I replied, my voice shaking. "Olivia Campbell."

Realization dawned in her eyes. "Campbell... that was our mother's name."

The world seemed to tilt beneath me as understanding crashed through me like a tidal wave.

"We're twins," I breathed. "Separate at birth."

Georgina's eyes filled with tears. "They stole me," she whispered. "The rogues took me to use as leverage against our family."

I knelt before her, cutting the ropes that bound her. "Our family?"

"The Lycan Royal House," she said simply. "They feared what we might become."

As we stared at each other—mirror images with different souls—I felt something shift inside me. The final piece of my identity falling into place.