I didn't want to follow them. My pride screamed at me to turn around, to go back to the pack house and pack my bags, to do anything other than stand in the sterile, white hallway of the pack clinic. But my feet moved on their own, heavy and numb. I stopped just outside the closed door of the treatment room.

Inside, it was quiet.

Then, a sharp, buzzing pressure drilled into my temple. It was the pack mind-link, but it wasn't a general broadcast. It was a private channel. Mckenzie was deliberately leaving the mental door cracked open, inviting me in to listen to her victory.

'It hurts, Jonas,' Mckenzie’s mental voice whimpered. It was soft, fragile, and completely devoid of the mocking cruelty she had shown me by the river.

'I know, baby. I know. I’m right here.'

I stopped breathing. It was Jonas. His voice wasn’t just gentle; it was completely wrecked. It was the raw, desperate voice of a man terrified of losing the only thing that truly mattered to him.

'You shouldn’t have jumped, Mac,' he whispered, the sound echoing in my head like shattering glass. 'If I lost you... Goddess, if I lost you, I wouldn’t survive it. You’re my everything. You know that.'

'What about Gwen?' Mckenzie asked. I could practically hear the smirk curling her lips, the triumphant gleam in her eyes.

'Forget her. She’s nothing. I’ll deal with her later. Just focus on me. I’m not going anywhere.'

The mental connection snapped shut, leaving a ringing silence in my ears.

My knees buckled. I caught myself against the cold wall, gasping for air that wouldn't fill my lungs. The clinic suddenly smelled overwhelmingly of medical bleach and cherry blossoms, and it was suffocating me. The floor tilted beneath my feet. Five years of loyalty, of quiet devotion, of suppressing my own needs for his... all of it reduced to 'She's nothing.'

I had to get out.

I pushed off the wall and ran. I burst through the double doors of the clinic and sprinted into the treeline. I didn't care where I was going. I just needed to outrun the echo of his voice in my head.

My inner wolf was thrashing against my ribcage, tearing at my mind in pure, unadulterated agony. She didn't understand. She had chosen him. We had loved him, and he had just discarded us like trash. She howled, a deafening, broken sound that vibrated through my very bones, clawing blindly at the walls of my consciousness.

I ran faster, my boots tearing through the damp earth. The trees blurred into dark, jagged shapes. I headed north, toward the steep cliffs and the treacherous border of our territory. The wind whipped my face, stinging my eyes, but it wasn't enough to numb the pain. I wanted to shift. I wanted to let my wolf take over, to run on four paws until my muscles gave out, but she was too fragmented. Every time I reached for her, she retreated into a whimpering, bleeding ball of grief.

I breached the northern ridge, my chest heaving, my throat burning with every ragged breath. The ravine yawned below me, a steep drop into jagged rocks and rushing black water. I stopped at the edge, gripping a thick pine branch to steady my trembling body.

A low, guttural growl vibrated through the brush.

I froze. The scent hit me a second too late—rotten meat, wet fur, and sour aggression. Rogues.

Three massive, mangy wolves stepped out of the shadows of the pines. Their eyes were wild and hungry, their lips peeled back to reveal yellowed fangs dripping with saliva. I was completely alone, emotionally shattered, and standing right on the edge of a deadly drop.

Shift, I commanded my wolf. Please, shift!

But she couldn't. The bond-shattering grief had paralyzed her. My bones ached with the effort, a phantom pressure building beneath my skin, but my flesh wouldn't tear. I was stuck in my fragile, human form, completely defenseless.

The largest rogue lunged.

I threw myself to the side, his massive jaws snapping mere inches from my throat. I scrambled across the dirt, reaching for a rock, a heavy stick, anything, but the second rogue was already on me. A heavy paw slammed into my chest, knocking the wind out of my lungs. Before I could roll away, razor-sharp claws ripped through my shirt and sliced deep across my ribs.

White-hot pain exploded in my side. I screamed, the sound tearing from my raw throat as warm blood instantly soaked my clothes.

The rogue snarled, lowering his massive head to sink his teeth into my neck. Adrenaline flooded my veins. I kicked out blindly, my heavy boot connecting hard with his snout. He recoiled with a yelp, but the violent momentum sent me sliding backward.

There was nothing beneath my feet.

My hands scrambled desperately for purchase, catching only loose dirt and dead leaves as I tumbled backward over the edge of the ravine. The wind roared in my ears, drowning out the snarls of the rogues above. I fell into the empty air, the dark, rocky abyss rushing up to swallow me whole.

I hit the bottom of the ravine with a sickening thud. The impact knocked what little breath I had left from my lungs. Pain—sharp, blinding, and overwhelming—flooded every nerve ending in my body. I tried to move, but my limbs felt like they were made of lead, refusing to respond. Beneath me, the jagged rocks bit into my back, and warm, sticky wetness spread across the ground beneath me. Blood. My blood.

My vision blurred, the stars above swimming into smears of light against the dark night sky. My wolf was still curled into a tight, wounded ball inside my mind, whimpering and broken. I could feel her pain mingling with my own, a toxic cocktail of betrayal and physical agony.

A wave of dizziness washed over me. I blinked, fighting to stay conscious. I couldn't die here. Not like this. Not for him.

With trembling fingers, I pressed my hand to the gaping wound in my side. The rogues' claws had torn through my shirt and into my flesh, leaving three deep gashes across my ribs. The bleeding was bad. Too bad. If I didn't get help soon, I would die alone in this ravine.

I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth against the pain, and reached for the pack mind-link. It was a desperate, last-ditch effort. I knew it was pointless. I knew he was with her. But some foolish part of me still hoped...

'Jonas,' I projected, my mental voice weak and ragged. 'Please. Rogues at the northern border. I'm bleeding out, I need you. Please...'

I waited, my heart pounding in my chest, each beat sending fresh waves of agony through my body. The silence in the link stretched on, suffocating me more effectively than the blood pooling in my lungs.

Then, a presence filled the link. Jonas. Relief flooded through me, so potent I almost sobbed.

But his response wasn't what I had hoped for.

'What now, Gwen?' His mental voice was cold, annoyed, laced with an exhaustion that had nothing to do with concern for me. 'I'm busy. Mckenzie needs me.'

'Jonas, please,' I begged, my mental voice cracking. 'I'm hurt. I'm bleeding. The rogues—'

'For Moon's sake, grow up!' he snapped, the force of his irritation slamming into me through the link. 'Mckenzie actually needs me right now. She's injured. You're just throwing a tantrum because you're jealous. I don't have time for this.'

The link went dead. He severed it. Violently.

I lay there, staring up at the stars, feeling the life drain out of me with every heartbeat. Jonas had heard me. He had heard my plea, and he had chosen her. Again. He had left me to die.

Something inside me broke. Not my heart—that had already shattered. This was deeper. It was the final thread of hope, of love, of devotion that had bound me to him for five long years. It snapped, and in its place, something cold and hard began to form.

My wolf stirred. For the first time since the riverside, she lifted her head. Her eyes, once warm and loving, now burned with a fierce, primal rage. She was done being a victim. Done being a pawn. Done waiting for a mate who would never choose us.

'If we don't save ourselves,' she growled in the back of my mind, 'we will die here. For nothing. For a mate who doesn't care. Is that what we want, Gwen? To die for him?'

The question echoed in my skull, igniting a fire in my veins that burned hotter than the pain. No. I didn't want to die for him. I wanted to live. I wanted to survive. I wanted to show him exactly what he had thrown away.

With a roar that was more defiance than strength, I forced myself to move. Every inch was agony, every movement sending fresh waves of pain coursing through my body. But I dragged myself across the rocky ground, leaving a dark smear of blood behind me. I found a narrow cave, barely more than a crack in the ravine wall, and pulled myself inside.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the trees above, I collapsed onto the cold stone floor. My wolf's fur, once dull and unremarkable, now carried a faint silver sheen in the dim light. We had survived the night. We had saved ourselves. And as I drifted into unconsciousness, one thought crystallized in my mind: This was the last time Jonas Holmes would ever make me bleed.