chapter 8

Edward had to travel to the northern region for a month-long business trip. Three days after he arrived, Werewolf Alliance Hospital called with news—they'd found a terminally ill patient who was a match for Jane.

The patient was willing to donate her heart to Jane after she died.

Edward wanted to thank this person properly, but the hospital gently explained that the patient didn't want to reveal any personal information.

*****

"Alpha, Luna's father isn't doing well. His medical bills are still unpaid."

Edward had just stepped out of a meeting when his beta, Simon, approached him with the report.

The thought of Catherine stirred something complicated and restless inside him.

He hated her betrayal, but he couldn't completely sever the bond that tied them together as fated mates. And if her father really died, Catherine would probably...

Edward fell silent for a moment, then asked, "How much does he need?"

Simon said, "Five hundred thousand dollars."

"Pay for it. Get him the best treatment available."

Simon nodded and left. Edward went back to his hotel and collapsed on the sofa with his eyes closed, but something felt off. Like a piece was missing.

He opened his eyes and picked up his phone, scrolling through WhatsApp until he found his chat with Catherine.

He'd been up north on business for days now, and she hadn't sent him a single message. That wasn't like her.

He scrolled up through their history. Page after page of her daily chatter. He'd barely replied to any of it. Most of the time, he'd found it annoying.

But now, the silence felt wrong. Uncomfortable.

Her father was seriously ill, and she hadn't told him. Or maybe she had—maybe she'd gone to Leon for help instead. The thought made Edward's jaw tighten, and he closed the chat.

He called the Alpha Manor.

"Where's the Luna?" he asked.

The servant's voice was respectful and careful. "The Luna moved out to a hotel, Alpha. She said she'd come back when you returned."

The unease in Edward's chest eased slightly, but the doubts didn't disappear entirely.

Catherine was timid—afraid of thunderstorms, afraid of the dark, afraid of pain. Why would she leave the Alpha Manor on her own and live somewhere else by herself?

Was it because of her father? Did she want to be close enough to take care of him?

In the end, Edward forced himself to stop thinking about it.

On Edward's fifteenth day in the northern region, Werewolf Alliance Hospital finalized the surgery plan, and Jane underwent multiple rounds of testing.

Edward also heard that the person donating a heart to Jane wasn't doing well. She was staying at Werewolf Alliance Hospital too, and the doctors said she probably wouldn't last more than two weeks. Even the Moon Goddess couldn't save her now.

He asked about her condition, and the doctor told him she had severe Wolfsbane Syndrome.

The words hit him like a punch to the chest. Wolfsbane Syndrome. That was the same thing on Catherine's test results.

How could it be such a coincidence?

A sudden, visceral dread gripped him, and he immediately dialed Catherine's number.

Catherine lay in her hospital bed. In just two weeks, she'd become frighteningly thin, her body wasting away.

The werewolf nurse beside her held the phone up to her face. When Catherine saw his name on the screen, her eyes brightened with something fragile and hopeful. This was the first time Edward had ever called her on his own.

Her trembling hands reached for the oxygen tube, trying to pull it away. The nurse stopped her, but Catherine shook her head weakly.

She took the phone and answered.

After a brief silence, Edward told her, "I'm coming back on the seventh of next month. You can return to Stormclaw Pack on the seventh." He tried to make it sound like an order, tried to mask the strange unease stirring in his chest.

"Okay," Catherine smiled a little.

Something felt off to him.

"Edward, I'm so tired. Can you call me tomorrow instead?"

Her voice was weak, almost fragile. Edward assumed she'd just woken up and checked the time—it was eight in the morning where she was.

For reasons he couldn't explain, he didn't hang up the way he usually did. Instead, he said, "Alright. I'll call you tomorrow."

The call ended, and the phone slipped from Catherine's hand. She gasped for air in sharp, desperate pulls while the nurse fumbled to get the oxygen mask over her face. Catherine closed her eyes, and the world blurred into nothing but hazy light.

"I really want to see tomorrow's sunrise," Catherine whispered, her voice barely there. "And I want to answer his call."

But she knew she wouldn't.

After Edward hung up, the unease didn't fade—it grew worse. Catherine's weak voice echoed in his mind, over and over.

His wolf paced restlessly inside him, agitated and frantic. A strong instinct gripped him, sharp and undeniable. He needed to get back to Stormclaw Pack. Now.

Edward finished two weeks of work in a single day.

He booked a flight back to Stormclaw Pack that evening, and as he put on his suit before heading to the airport, something made him pause. He pulled out the tie Catherine had given him from his luggage.

The wine-red silk looked perfect with today's suit.

He boarded early, and just before he turned off his phone, a message came through from Werewolf Alliance Hospital.

"Alpha Edward, the donor passed away two minutes ago. Ms. Greyson's heart transplant surgery will begin in two hours."