The Innocent Traitor: Dying for the Alpha's Sin

Ericka POV: I survived the night in the graveyard, but I left a piece of my soul among the cold stones. The next day, I wasn't returned to my cell. Instead, Caleb had me dressed in a flimsy cocktail dress that barely covered the bruises on my knees and arms. He dragged me to the marina. "We are going on the yacht," Caleb announced, his hand gripping my elbow tight enough to cut off circulation. "The neighboring Alphas are visiting. I want them to see how merciful I am. I keep a traitor alive." "Merciful?" I whispered. "You are killing me slowly." "Silence," he growled. The yacht was a floating palace of white fiberglass and chrome. Music pumped from the speakers, and waiters circulated with trays of champagne. Hailie was there, of course, wearing a stunning red gown that clung to her curves. She looked like a Luna. I looked like a ghost. The sea was rough. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, mirroring the turmoil inside me. The yacht rocked violently as we hit open water. I stood by the railing, gripping the cold metal to keep from collapsing. My lungs burned with every breath-the aftereffects of the Wolfsbane sauna were permanent. "Enjoying the view?" Hailie appeared beside me. No one else was looking; the party was in full swing on the upper deck. "Leave me alone, Hailie." "You look terrible," she smirked, leaning against the rail. "Like a corpse that forgot to lie down." Suddenly, the boat lurched as a massive wave hit the side. I lost my footing on the slick deck. "Whoops!" Hailie cried out. But she didn't help me. She shoved me. I tumbled over the railing. The dark, churning water rushed up to meet me. The shock of the cold was instant. It paralyzed my muscles. Saltwater flooded my nose and mouth, stinging the raw sores in my throat. Splash! Another body hit the water nearby. I surfaced, gasping, trying to tread water with limbs that felt like lead. I saw Hailie floating a few yards away. She was perfectly fine, a strong swimmer, but she was flailing her arms and screaming. "Caleb! Help! My leg! Cramp!" "Hailie!" Caleb's voice roared from the deck above. He dove in. His form was perfect, powerful. He sliced through the water like a torpedo. Caleb... I tried to call out, but a wave slapped me in the face, filling my mouth with brine. Help me... please... I saw him surface between us. He looked at me. Our eyes met across the choppy waves. I saw the recognition, the mate bond flaring one last time, begging him to save the other half of his soul. Then he looked at Hailie. "Save me, Alpha!" Hailie shrieked. Caleb turned his back on me. He swam to Hailie, wrapped his arm around her waist, and began towing her back to the yacht's ladder. I stopped kicking. The realization hit me harder than the freezing water. He chose. He chose the lie over the truth. He chose the snake over his mate. My body, weakened by silver and abuse, gave up. I sank. The water above me turned from white foam to dark green, then black. It was peaceful down here. The burning in my skin stopped. The ache in my heart dulled. I closed my eyes, ready to let the ocean take what was left of Ericka Reid. But I didn't die. My hand brushed against something rough-a barnacle-encrusted buoy tied to a fishing net. Instinct took over. I clung to it, gasping for air as the waves tossed me. Moments later, blinding lights swept the water. The Coast Guard, responding to the distress call the yacht sent out for Hailie, spotted me clinging to the debris. They hauled me up. I woke up on the deck of a patrol boat, vomiting seawater and blood. A paramedic was shining a light in my eyes. He looked grim. "Miss? Can you hear me?" "Let me go," I rasped. "Let me die." "We can't do that. We're taking you to the city hospital." Later, in the sterile white room of the ICU, the doctor came in with a clipboard. He wasn't a pack doctor. He was human. He didn't know about wolves or silver. "Miss Reid," he said softly. "Your lungs... they are destroyed. It looks like severe chemical pneumonitis combined with some kind of heavy metal toxicity. And your immune system has collapsed." "How long?" I asked, staring at the ceiling. He hesitated. "Two weeks. Maybe less. I'm so sorry." Two weeks. I didn't cry. I felt a strange sense of relief. The countdown had finally started.