Caroline POV:

The burn on my leg was wrapped in bandages soaked in aloe and comfrey, an old pack remedy. I sat in the waiting room of the hospital—again.

I wasn't the patient this time. I had walked here from the gallery site because the ambulance had been "prioritized" for the Alpha's rescue.

I walked into the VIP suite. Blake was sitting by the bed, holding a glass of water to Ariana's lips. She was sipping it delicately, looking at him with wide, doe-like eyes.

"The smoke inhalation was minimal," Blake was saying, his voice low and soothing. "But the trauma... it reminded you of the attack ten years ago, didn't it?"

"Yes," Ariana whispered. "When the Rogues took my ability to shift... I felt that same fear today, Blake."

It was the oldest story in the book. Ten years ago, Blake had failed to save her from a Rogue kidnapping in time. Her wolf had been shattered. His guilt was the foundation of their relationship. It was a bond stronger than love, and far more toxic.

I cleared my throat.

Blake looked up. He didn't look guilty. He looked annoyed at the interruption.

"You should be resting, Caroline," he said. "The nurses said you have second-degree burns."

"I'm fine," I lied. I wasn't fine. I was hollow. "I came to give you this."

I placed a letter on the bedside table. It was my resignation from the Pack Charity Committee. It was the only official role I held. The Luna was supposed to lead the pack's social welfare. It was my one connection to the people.

"I'm stepping down," I said.

Blake picked up the letter. He scanned it, then nodded. "Good. You've been under a lot of stress. You're clearly unstable."

He turned to Ariana. "Ariana, you've been saying you want to feel useful to the pack again. To help you heal from your PTSD."

Ariana sat up straighter, a gleam of triumph in her eyes that she quickly masked with humility. "Oh, Blake, I couldn't possibly... that's Caroline's seat."

"Caroline just vacated it," Blake said, handing the letter to Ariana. "It's yours. You have a kinder heart, anyway. The pack needs someone who understands suffering, not someone who calculates everything like an architect."

I felt the air leave the room. He wasn't just accepting my resignation. He was regifting my identity. He was taking the last scrap of respect I had in this hierarchy and handing it to the woman who mocked me.

"Thank you, Alpha," Ariana cooed, clutching the paper to her chest. She looked at me and smirked. It was a small, quick movement, invisible to him.

"You should go home, Caroline," Blake said, not looking at me. "I'm staying here tonight to monitor her wolf spirit fluctuations. The doctor says the shock might cause a regression."

"She doesn't have a wolf spirit to fluctuate, Blake," I said coldly.

"Get out," he snarled. The Alpha tone vibrated in the air, making the glass of water on the table ripple.

I turned and walked out.

I sat on a bench in the hallway and opened the app.

He gave my Luna seat to her. He called her heart kind and mine calculated.

-5.

Total Remaining: 45.

Caroline POV:

It was our third mating anniversary.

In werewolf culture, the third anniversary is significant. It represents the solidification of the bond, the transition from new mates to established leaders.

I wore green. A deep, emerald velvet dress that hugged my curves. It was the color of the forest, the color of the home I used to build in my mind.

I sat across from Blake at Le Lune, the most exclusive restaurant in the territory. He looked handsome in his tuxedo, I had to admit. That jawline, those dark eyes that used to make my wolf howl with desire. Now, looking at him was like looking at a statue. Beautiful, cold, and stone.

"You look... nice," he said, checking his watch.

"Thank you," I said. "I ordered the venison."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a long, velvet box. My heart gave a stupid, traitorous little jump. Maybe he remembered. Maybe he had bought me the enchanted drafting compass I had admired months ago.

He slid the box across the table.

Just then, his phone buzzed. He looked at the screen. Ariana.

"Don't," I said. It was the first time I had commanded him. "It's our anniversary, Blake. Don't answer it."

"It might be an emergency," he said, answering it anyway. "Ariana? What's wrong?"

I watched his face change from annoyance to concern.

"Calm down," he said. "Where are you? You're here?"

I turned my head. Ariana was standing at the entrance of the restaurant. She was wearing a shimmering silver gown that was far too bridal for a dinner guest.

And on her chest, pinned right over her heart, was the Moonstone Brooch.

The Blood Moon Pack's heirloom. The brooch that belonged to the Alpha's mate. It had been locked in the vault.

"She's having a panic attack," Blake said, standing up. "The crowd... the pheromones are overwhelming her senses."

Ariana stumbled toward our table, clutching her chest. "Blake... I couldn't breathe... I needed to find you..."

She collapsed into the chair next to him—my chair was opposite him. He immediately took her hands, pushing his Alpha aura into her to soothe her. It was an intimate act, sharing energy.

"Why is she wearing the Moonstone Brooch, Blake?" I asked, my voice deadly quiet.

Blake didn't even look at the brooch. "She needed a talisman. Something with Alpha energy to ground her. I let her borrow it from the vault."

"That is for the Luna," I said.

"It's just jewelry, Caroline!" He snapped. "She is hyperventilating. Do you have no empathy?"

Ariana looked at me, her eyes wet with fake tears. "I'm sorry, Caroline. I just felt so unsafe."

Blake looked at the velvet box on the table—my gift. Then he looked at Ariana, who was trembling.

"Here," Blake said. He picked up the box intended for me. He opened it. Inside were diamond earrings. Not the compass. Just generic, expensive diamonds.

He handed them to Ariana. "Focus on these. Look at the light in them. Ground yourself."

Ariana took the earrings. She held them up to her ears, looking at her reflection in the knife blade. "They're beautiful, Blake. They make me feel... safe."

He didn't take them back. He let her keep them.

I felt a sharp pain in my chest, right where the mating bond used to be. It wasn't the bond breaking—that was already gone. It was the death of my dignity.

"Excuse me," I said, standing up. "I need to go to the ladies' room."

I walked away. I didn't go to the bathroom to cry. I went to take a pill—a strong herbal suppressor to numb the phantom pain in my empty womb.

I took out my phone.

He gave the family heirloom to her. He regifted my anniversary present to her to 'soothe' her.

-15.

Total Remaining: 30.

Caroline POV:

When I returned to the table, the atmosphere in the restaurant had shifted. The air was thick with tension.

"You have no wolf," Ariana was saying to Blake, loud enough for the neighboring tables to hear. She was wearing my earrings. "That's why she doesn't understand our connection, Blake. She's basically human. She doesn't feel the pull of the pack like we do."

I stopped at the table. "I understand the pull of loyalty, Ariana. Something you seem to lack."

"Don't start," Blake warned, glaring at me.

Suddenly, the ground shook.

A boom echoed from the kitchen—a gas explosion. Rogues. It had to be.

The restaurant was chaos. Wolves were shifting, tables were overturning.

Above us, the massive crystal chandelier—iron and silver, beautiful and deadly—swayed violently. The ceiling groaned.

I looked up. The anchor bolt snapped.

"Blake!" I screamed.

Time seemed to slow down. The massive fixture was falling directly over our table.

It was the ultimate test of instinct. In moments of life or death, a wolf doesn't think. They react. They protect their most precious thing. Their mate.

Blake moved. He was a blur of speed.

He lunged across the table.

He tackled Ariana.

He shoved her clear of the impact zone, covering her body with his own, rolling them both to safety under a heavy oak sideboard.

I stood there. I didn't have Alpha speed. I didn't have a wolf to enhance my reflexes.

The chandelier crashed down.

The world exploded into pain.

Half a ton of crystal and silver metal slammed into me. I felt my right leg shatter. The jagged metal spikes, coated in silver dust, pierced my shoulder, pinning me to the floor.

The scream that tore from my throat was human and raw. The silver burned like acid, sizzling as it touched my blood.

Dust and debris filled the air.

"Ariana! Are you hurt?" I heard Blake's frantic voice.

"I... I think I scraped my elbow," Ariana whimpered.

I lay under the wreckage, gasping for air. The silver was poisoning me, fast. "Blake..." I croaked.

Blake crawled out from under the sideboard. He helped Ariana up. He checked her over, scanning her for injuries.

Then, he looked at the pile of twisted metal where his wife was buried.

He saw my hand sticking out, blood pooling on the expensive carpet.

He took a step toward me, his eyes wide with horror.

"I can't breathe!" Ariana gasped, clutching his arm. "The dust! My asthma! Blake, don't leave me!"

Blake hesitated. He looked at me, trapped and bleeding out. He looked at Ariana, who was standing and breathing fine.

"Beta guards!" Blake roared at the confused security team rushing in. "Get Caroline out! Get her to the hospital!"

He scooped Ariana up into his arms. "I'm getting Ariana to fresh air."

He turned his back to me. Again.

As the darkness encroached on my vision, I watched him run out the exit, holding another woman, while silver poison ate through my veins.

My phone was shattered in my pocket, but the calculation in my mind was crystal clear.

The chandelier fell. He became her shield. I became the casualty.

-20.

Total Remaining: 10.