My Mate Sent Me to Die in Frostpeak

The world comes back in fragments.

First, there's pain—sharp and burning, like my veins are filled with molten silver. Then there's the smell of my own sweat-soaked sheets. The moonlight streaming through my window tells me hours have passed since Hope's needle found my neck.

Travis is buried deep, so deep I can barely feel him. Just a faint pulse of rage somewhere in the darkness of my mind, weakened but not gone.

I should stay in bed. Should let the silver work its way out of my system. Should be the good, obedient mate who accepts her place.

But Damian's scent is fading from the pack house.

I force myself upright, my arms shaking with the effort. The fever makes everything blur at the edges, but I can still track that scent—earthy musk mixed with pine, leading away from our territory. Leading toward the Beta's lands.

Toward Hope's family estate.

The walk takes forever. Every step sends fire through my muscles, and twice I have to stop and lean against trees, gasping. The silver sedative clings to my system like poison, making my wolf retreat further with each labored breath.

But I keep moving.

The Beta's estate rises against the night sky, all elegant stone and manicured gardens. I've been here before, back when Hope and I were actually friends. Back when I was stupid enough to believe her concern was real.

Damian's scent grows stronger as I approach, twining with Hope's in that sickeningly intimate way. I stay in the tree line, using the shadows to hide my weakened form.

Then I see them.

The balcony overlooks the gardens, and they're standing there like some perfect portrait of mates—Damian's arm around Hope's waist, her head resting on his shoulder. The sight makes my stomach twist, but I force myself to stay still. To listen.

"—all dead now," Damian is saying, his voice carrying clearly in the night air. "Victor Stone was the last one. Travis tore him apart three months ago."

Hope laughs, the sound light and pleased. "Your little enforcer did her job well. All your rivals eliminated, and no one suspects the Alpha's mate's wolf was doing the dirty work."

"She was useful," Damian agrees, and the casual dismissal in his tone makes Travis stir weakly in the back of my mind. "But now that the threats are gone, we don't need her violence anymore. Travis is too unpredictable. Too dangerous."

"So we move forward with the plan?" Hope's voice takes on an eager edge. "You reject her officially, claim me as Luna?"

"Soon." Damian's hand moves to Hope's hair, stroking it gently. "We need to be careful. If Travis breaks free during the rejection, he could kill half the pack before we put him down."

Put him down.

Like an animal.

Like something disposable.

"The ritual weakened her," Hope says, and there's pride in her voice. Pride in what she's done to me. "A few more treatments and Travis will be too suppressed to fight back. Then you can reject her cleanly, and we can finally stop hiding."

The silver burns hotter in my veins, but it's nothing compared to the rage building in my chest. All those times Travis eliminated threats to Damian's power. All those violent episodes I hated myself for. We were being used. Weaponized. And the moment we were no longer useful—

I step out of the shadows.

My legs barely hold me, and I have to grip the garden gate to stay upright, but I don't care. I need them to see me. Need them to know I heard everything.

"Gemma." Damian's voice is sharp with surprise, but he doesn't let go of Hope. Doesn't even pretend to be ashamed. "You should be resting."

"Tell me the truth." My voice comes out rough, raw. "What happens to me after you reject me? What's the plan?"

Hope's eyes gleam in the moonlight, and something shifts in her expression. Something calculating and cruel.

She pulls away from Damian and walks to the balcony railing, looking down at me with a smile that makes my skin crawl. "You really want to know?"

"Hope," Damian warns, but she ignores him.

"The truth is, Gemma," she continues, her voice sweet as poison, "Damian can't stand to touch you. Every time he looks at you, he sees that defective, violent wolf. You repulse him. You always have."

She descends the balcony steps, moving closer. Too close.

"He only kept you around because Travis was useful. A weapon he could point at his enemies." Another step. "But now? Now you're just broken. Pathetic. A liability."

Inside my mind, Travis stirs. The silver should keep him down, should keep him buried, but Hope's words are like gasoline on embers.

"You were never meant to be Luna," Hope whispers, now just feet away from me. "You were never meant to be anything but a tool. And once a tool breaks—"

Travis surges forward with a snarl that rips from my throat, and Hope's smile widens.

She wanted this.

She wanted me to lose control.

And I just gave her exactly what she needed.