When My Mate Chose Power Over Love

The scent of pine and fresh blood filled the cab of my SUV as I navigated the winding roads back to Silver Moon territory. Three deer carcasses lay neatly wrapped in the back—a peace offering for Ethan. Another attempt to salvage what remained of our mate bond.

I'd spent the last week tracking a particularly vicious rogue who'd been terrorizing the northern borders. The hunt had been successful, but exhausting. My muscles ached from the chase, and dried blood still caked beneath my fingernails despite my best efforts to clean up at the outpost.

"Almost home," I murmured to myself, one hand instinctively rising to touch the medallion hanging beneath my uniform.

The small silver disc pressed against my skin, warm and familiar. Inside lay the ashes of Rex, my wolf companion who'd died protecting me during a rogue ambush two years ago. He'd thrown himself between me and a killing blow, saving my life at the cost of his own. The medallion was more than jewelry—it was honor, sacrifice, memory.

I rounded a curve on the private pack road, mentally rehearsing what I'd say to Ethan. Our last conversation had ended in tense silence when I was called away for the mission. Perhaps the fresh meat would soften his mood. Perhaps this time he'd actually look me in the eyes instead of checking his phone for messages I knew were from Olivia.

The flash of pink in my rearview mirror came with no warning.

A Jeep Wrangler—painted a garish bubblegum shade—careened around the bend behind me, accelerating rather than slowing. I swerved toward the shoulder, but there wasn't enough time.

The impact jolted through my body as metal crunched against metal. My head snapped forward, then back against the headrest. The SUV spun, tires skidding across asphalt before grinding to a halt. Through the passenger window, I watched in disbelief as the back hatch sprung open from the force of the collision. The deer carcasses tumbled onto the road, meat and blood spilling across the pavement.

My training kicked in. Assess damage. Check for injuries. Identify threat.

I unclipped my seatbelt and stepped out, my body tense and ready. The pack vehicle's rear was crushed inward, lights shattered. The Jeep had fared worse, its front end accordioned, steam hissing from beneath the crumpled hood.

The driver's door of the pink monstrosity flew open with such force it bounced back, nearly hitting the woman who emerged.

Olivia Pierce.

Of course.

She stumbled forward, her designer heels clicking against the asphalt, face contorted with rage. No visible injuries—the Goddess's cruel joke.

"You stupid bitch!" she shrieked, her voice piercing the forest quiet. "Look what you did to my Jeep!"

I kept my voice level, professional. "You rear-ended me, Ms. Pierce. I suggest you step back while I call this in."

"Call what in?" She stalked closer, her perfume—too sweet, too strong—assaulting my senses. "Do you know who I am? Who Ethan is?"

"I'm well aware of who my mate is," I