chapter 1

Catherine Hartwell—Luna of the Stormclaw Pack, a title that should mean something—was curled up on her bed like a wounded animal. Even her wolf was whimpering somewhere deep inside, too broken to do anything else.

Her hand pressed hard against her abdomen. She dragged herself out of bed, every movement taking more effort than it should.

Moonlight came through the window and made her skin look even paler.

Then she heard footsteps. She knew them instantly. It was Edward Blackwood, her fated mate, the Alpha of the Stormclaw Pack. He was home.

Her wolf perked up at his scent, just for a second. Then the pain crushed that tiny spark of hope flat. "He still doesn't want to see us."

Catherine grabbed the door handle. She didn't know where the strength came from, but she pulled the door open.

"Edward." His name scraped out of her throat, taking everything she had left.

He stopped. He'd been heading to his own room, but he turned and looked at her. His eyes were cold and empty, skimming over her thin nightgown like she was nothing.

"You're back." Her voice came out small and careful. "Did you eat?" Something fragile flickered in her chest. Hope, maybe.

Edward's gaze slid right past her. He turned away.

Something inside her chest cracked wide open.

"Wait—" She stumbled after him and grabbed his sleeve. The pain in her stomach got worse and she bit down hard on her lip. She tasted blood.

"Let go." Edward's voice was flat and cold, and his Alpha command rolled over her like a wave.

Catherine's fingers loosened. She could barely hold onto the edge of his shirt now.

"Edward, I'm in pain," she whispered. Her voice shook. "It's late. Can you please take me to the hospital?"

If it were daytime, Catherine wouldn't have bothered him. She knew that already. He was so tired of her.

"Where does it hurt?" Edward turned back around and his eyes locked onto her like a predator sizing up prey.

"My stomach." Cold sweat was sliding down her temples and she could barely stay on her feet.

Edward looked down at where her hand pressed against her abdomen. Then he let out a cold laugh. "Ms. Hartwell, your performances just keep getting better and better. How long did you rehearse this one?"

He yanked his sleeve out of her grip so hard she stumbled backward.

Then his hand shot out and grabbed her jaw, forcing her face up so she had to look at him. "Three years ago, you betrayed me when I had nothing. You ran straight to my enemy. That day, I swore I'd never forgive you." His smile was cruel. "Not unless you die."

Everything inside her went cold. She couldn't stop shaking. Her wolf was howling in agony at their mate's words.

Edward let go and walked into his bedroom. The door slammed in her face.

The pain in Catherine's stomach twisted like a knife. Her knees hit the floor.

She fumbled for her phone with trembling fingers and dialed emergency services. When the operator answered, she forced the address out between gasps of pain.

Thirty minutes later, an ambulance pulled up outside the Stormclaw Pack Alpha Manor.

The paramedics—wearing special protective gear for handling werewolves—lifted her onto a stretcher and rushed her toward the hospital.

Inside his room, Edward listened to the ambulance siren fade into the distance. His face was stone. Hatred churned in his chest like acid.

His wolf howled at the back of his mind, restless and angry as their mate tried to leave. Edward hated that involuntary pull, that connection he couldn't sever no matter how much he wanted to. It made his blood boil.

Catherine always got what she wanted, no matter who she had to use or what she had to destroy.

This was just another performance, another manipulation to keep her place in the Stormclaw Pack. Her own pack—the Bloodmoon—was under siege right now, and she had nowhere else to go.

She was using their fated mate bond like a chain around his neck, and he had no choice but to keep her close.

The Stormclaw Pack had an ancient tradition. Every Alpha needed to bond with their fated mate to reach their full strength, to protect their pack at maximum power.

So even though he hated her to the gut, he'd followed tradition. He'd completed the bonding ceremony with Catherine, that cold and clinical ritual designed for power, not love.

The compromise ate at him every single day. It dragged him back to that blood-soaked night three years ago, over and over again.

The Stormclaw Pack had been on the verge of collapse under Thornhowl Pack's brutal and relentless attack.

Edward was seriously injured. He'd watched his fated mate—Catherine—walk straight into the arms of his enemy. Leon Thornfield, the Thornhowl Pack's Alpha.

Catherine'd casually said, "I think we should break up." Then she'd taken Leon's hand and left. She hadn't even looked back.

A woman who betrayed him when he needed her most, who abandoned him in his darkest hour—that woman would never willingly suffer through hardship now.

She'd do anything to keep herself comfortable. Use any method, no matter how low, to maintain the life she wanted.

*****

Catherine sat on a bench in the hospital corridor, staring at the test results in her hands. The white walls blurred in front of her and she found herself looking back at her ridiculous life.

Three years ago, Leon—Alpha of the Thornhowl Pack—had wanted her. He'd held Edward's dying body over her head like a weapon and forced her to stage that brutal betrayal.

Later, Edward became Alpha of the Stormclaw Pack and his power grew. Leon couldn't touch him anymore, couldn't touch the pack.

She still remembered Edward's face the day she left with Leon, the disbelief bleeding into despair. The guilt had carved itself into her chest and never left.

She'd known about Stormclaw's ancient tradition—an Alpha had to bond with his fated mate to unlock his full strength. Even hating her, Edward couldn't break that rule.

So she'd become his Luna. It was the only way she could think to make up for what she'd done. She'd been ready for his anger, for years of cold silence and bitter words.

She hadn't been ready for this.

She had late-stage Wolfsbane Syndrome. The doctors gave her a few months left, maybe less.

Catherine didn't know how long she sat there. Eventually, the noise of the hospital filtered back in and she stood up.

She walked out mechanically and hailed a cab to another hospital, a more specialized one. Bob worked there.

Bob wasn't just a senior shifter physician. He was also someone she could actually call a friend.

Bob picked up her call and met her at the hospital entrance. Catherine's eyes were red-rimmed, but she managed a smile when she saw him.

"Bob." She gripped the test results tighter. "The results came back. The doctor said it's late-stage Wolfsbane Syndrome."

Bob's face went pale, and his eyes widened in shock.

Her nose started burning with unshed tears, and she looked at him with desperate hope. "Can you check me again? Maybe they got it wrong?"

Bob was the expert on Wolfsbane treatment.

He took a deep breath and pushed down the shock and grief in his eyes. His voice stayed steady when he nodded. "Of course. Don't worry, I've got you."

They wheeled Catherine into the exam room.

At five o'clock, the results came back exactly the same. Late-stage Wolfsbane Syndrome.

Catherine sat on the examination table and stared at nothing. Her lips barely moved when she whispered, "How long do I have?"

Bob knelt down and put his warm hands on her shaking shoulders. "Catherine, I'm going to save you."

"Oh." The tears finally fell. "It's Wolfsbane Syndrome, Bob. No werewolf has ever recovered from this. Not in thousands of years."

This disease was just like her relationship with Edward—broken beyond repair.