Three years of marriage, and Mira had never imagined that on such a bright, ordinary afternoon, she would feel the violent tearing of the mate-bond.
It wasn’t pain at first—pain came later. What hit her was pressure, it was crushing and sudden, like a fist tightening around her heart. Her breathing came out ragged, her hands wrapping around her abdomen as her knees nearly buckled.
It took less than a second for her to understand. Her Alpha, her husband, Adrian, was in danger.
But how? He was supposed to be in his spacious, sunlit office at the pack house, dealing with pack affairs. There had been no reports of any outside threat. What could have happened?
Her wolf surged within, frantic with worry, straining to take control and rush to their mate’s side. Without a second thought, Mira mind-linked to her husband’s Beta, Mason.
“Luna…” Mason hesitated and that only sharpened the blade of her fear and fury.
“Don’t you dare lie to me. Tell me where Adrian is!”
*
Mira used every ounce of speed she possessed on the drive to the hospital. The closer she got, the more the phantom pain in her own chest intensified. Tears burned behind her eyes. They had only been married for three years. While not all of it had been peaceful or happy, she had never imagined she could lose him this soon.
She all but crashed through the doors of the Emergency Department. The air was thick with the coppery scent of blood and the sharp sting of antiseptic. Pack members moved swiftly through the corridors, doctors and medics barking orders. A gurney was shoved violently through the main doors.
Mira froze.
Adrian Vale—Alpha of the Silver Ridge Pack—lay strapped to the stretcher, his broad body smeared in red, the white sheets beneath him ruined. Drops of blood trailed behind him, a reminder of how close she had come to losing him.
But he was still breathing. She could still feel the faint, strained thread of their bond. She hadn't lost him yet.
Just as the breath of relief left her lips and she moved to step forward, to take his hand, another figure slipped into the space that should have been hers.
The woman was small, almost fragile-looking, radiating a salty aura of fear and tears. They streamed down her cheeks as she clutched Adrian’s hand in both of hers, her knuckles white as if he might vanish if she let go.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman sobbed. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
Adrian turned his head.
Even injured, even pale, his presence still dominated the chaotic hallway. His powerful Alpha energy pulsed around him like a controlled tide, instinctively commanding the space. His fingers tightened around the woman’s, a tenderness in his grip that Mira, in three years of marriage, had never seen directed at herself.
“Don’t cry,” he rasped, his uninjured hand rising to clumsily brush a tear from her cheek. Then he pressed something into her palm. A white flower. Its petals were crushed and stained a deep, ugly shade—his blood. He seemed not to notice or care.
“Take it,” Adrian said, his voice rough but soft. “I know you always wanted one. It’s your birthday. You deserve every happiness.”
A look passed between them—a silent, intimate current that shut out the world.
Three steps away, Mira stood utterly still, the color draining from her face.
Her husband had nearly died, and his concern was for another woman’s happiness?
What the hell of joke was the universe playing on her? Had she woken up wrong and stumbled into some parallel reality that wasn’t hers?
Mira squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. The scene before her remained unchanged. The two were still lost in their own world, their intense gaze shutting out everything else.
Her wolf let out a low, wounded whimper within her. The initial shock and absurdity were rapidly curdling into something darker, something angrier.
She was his LUNA. His MATE. Chosen by the Moon Goddess herself. For three years, they had presented a united, loving front to the pack.
Yet in all those three years, she was certain he had never looked at her like that.
She had told herself his coldness was just part of being an Alpha, a burden of his title. But the scene before her was proof it wasn't.
"Luna Mira," an Omega bowed sharply before her, a wave of fearful respect preceding him. "You're here."
Mira gave a single, stiff nod. She couldn't speak yet—if she opened her mouth, she might shatter the last vestiges of her control.
Adrian was being wheeled towards the operating room. As he passed her, his gaze flickered over her.
She had expected to see guilt. An apology. She saw nothing. Only his customary, impenetrable ice.
The doors swung shut behind him with a final, damning thud.
"What happened?" Mira asked, her voice dangerously soft. She felt fury and agony twisting together inside her.
The Omega hesitated. Smart.