Abandoned by My Alpha Mate

The winter wind howled outside the pack hospital, its icy fingers finding every crack in the old building's walls. I pulled my thin jacket tighter around me as I hurried down the corridor toward my mother's room. Each step felt heavier than the last, my wolf's presence so faint I could barely feel her anymore.

When I pushed open the door, the sight of my mother made my heart clench. She lay still against the white sheets, her once vibrant face now pale and drawn. The chronic illness that had plagued her for years had worsened with the cold, her breathing labored and shallow.

"Mom," I whispered, taking her frail hand in mine.

Her eyes fluttered open, recognition slowly dawning in them. "Helena... you shouldn't be here. Not when Camille—"

"Shh," I said, squeezing her hand gently. "I had to see you."

The door swung open behind me, and Camille's scent—antiseptic and cold—filled the room before she did.

"Visiting hours are over," she announced, her voice dripping with false concern. "Your mother needs rest, Helena."

I turned to face her, summoning what little strength I had left. "Her condition is getting worse. She needs more frequent treatments."

Camille's lips curved into a smile that never reached her eyes. "That can be arranged... under certain conditions."

She glanced at my mother, then back at me, her meaning clear.

"Let's discuss this outside," I said quietly, not wanting to upset my mother further.

In the hallway, Camille's facade dropped away completely.

"If you don't cooperate with the next phase of treatments," she said, her voice low and venomous, "I'll convince Christopher to deny your mother further care."

My blood ran cold. "You can't—"

"Oh, but I can," she interrupted. "And more. I can have her declared a burden to the pack. Christopher would have no choice but to banish her from our territory."

"You wouldn't," I whispered, though I knew she absolutely would.

"Try me," Camille replied, her eyes glittering with malice. "Your choice, Helena. More treatments... or your mother dies alone, cast out in the wilderness."

---

I couldn't stay in the hospital any longer. The walls seemed to close in around me as I stumbled into the pack grounds, desperate for fresh air and someone—anyone—who might help.

Marcus, one of the senior Delta wolves, was walking across the training field. I hurried toward him, hope fluttering weakly in my chest.

"Marcus," I called, my voice cracking. "Can I speak with you?"

He turned, surprise flickering across his face before it settled into something more guarded.

"Helena," he said cautiously. "What's wrong?"

"I need help," I said, the words tumbling out. "Camille is—she's using experimental treatments on me without proper care. My wolf is dying, and she's threatening my mother's care if I don't continue."

Marcus shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around as if checking who might be listening.

"I've heard... things," he said finally. "About you."

My heart sank. "What things?"

"That you're not well. Mentally." He wouldn't meet my eyes. "That you're paranoid. Making accusations."

"That's not true," I insisted, grabbing his arm. "Please, Marcus. You've known me for years."

He pulled away, stepping back. "I'm sorry, Helena. I can't get involved in this. Camille says you need help—professional help."

As he walked away, I spotted two other pack members watching from a distance, their expressions a mixture of pity and wariness.

Camille had been busy indeed.

---

The silver restraints bit into my wrists as Camille prepared for what she called "the final phase."

"This will determine if your wolf can survive the separation process," she explained, selecting a syringe filled with clear liquid from her tray.

"What do you mean, separation?" I asked, fear crawling up my spine.

"Just a little experiment," she replied, her voice clinical. "To see if we can isolate the wolf consciousness from the human host."

The needle plunged into my arm, and fire spread through my veins. I screamed as my body convulsed, my wolf howling in agony inside me.

"Interesting," Camille murmured, making notes in her journal. "The wolf is retreating further than anticipated."

I felt it—the precious connection to my wolf stretching thin, becoming gossamer. She was fading, slipping away from me like water through cupped hands.

"Stop," I begged through gritted teeth. "Please, stop."

Camille leaned close, her breath warm against my ear. "Soon you'll be nothing but a broken human, Helena. No wolf, no strength. Unfit to be an Alpha's mate."

She straightened up, her smile triumphant as she made another notation in her journal.

"No one will want you then," she said softly. "Not even Christopher."

As the pain subsided to a dull throb, I felt something inside me change—a fundamental part of myself growing distant, cold. My wolf, once vibrant and strong, now felt like a whisper in a hurricane.

I was becoming exactly what Camille had planned: broken, powerless, alone.