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After Eight Years, My Mate Chose Her Novel Cover

After Eight Years, My Mate Chose Her

Waking from eight years of frozen cryogenic stasis, I survived a terminal illness only to face a new nightmare. My dormant inner wolf has finally awakened, burning with a desperate, primal hunger for Vincent, my fated mate. I endured the cold darkness trusting his promise to wait for me. But as my pack hospital door slides open and he steps inside, the devastating truth of my return begins to unfold.
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Chapter 5

My fingers trembled around the stub of a stolen pencil. In the dim, freezing dampness of the Omega quarters, I pressed the dull lead against a crumpled receipt I had dug out of the kitchen trash.

*Amber hired Silas,* I wrote, the letters jagged and frantic. *It was a setup. The bomb was laced with silver. My wolf is gone. Please, Vincent, look at my wounds.*

I just needed to slip the note under his office door. If he read it, if he just looked past his misplaced anger for one single second, he would realize the truth. I folded the small scrap of paper, clutching it to my chest like a lifeline.

The heavy wooden door suddenly swung open. Amber stood there, her eyes darting instantly to the paper in my hands. Before I could even push myself off the floor, she lunged forward, snatching the note from my weak grip.

Her eyes scanned my desperate plea. A cruel, delighted smile spread across her lips.

"Oh, Elora," she tsked, pulling a silver lighter from the pocket of her silk robe. "Still trying to play the victim."

I lunged for the paper, but a sharp kick to my shin sent me crashing back onto the hard stone. I opened my mouth to scream, to curse her, but only a hollow, breathless wheeze escaped my ruined throat.

Amber flicked the lighter. The flame caught the edge of the paper. She dropped it onto the floor, letting it burn to black ashes just inches from my face.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. Vincent appeared in the doorway, his broad frame blocking out the light. His eyes flicked from me on the floor to the smoldering ashes.

"What is going on here?" his Alpha tone rumbled, vibrating against my aching skull.

Amber instantly morphed into a picture of distress. She gasped, grabbing Vincent's arm. "Vincent, I caught her sneaking into the archives! She was tearing up the pack's financial records. I tried to stop her, but she burned them just to spite us!"

I shook my head wildly. I pointed at Amber, then to my own throat, tears spilling over my cheeks. *Liar!* I screamed in my mind. *She's lying!*

Vincent didn't even look at my pleading eyes. His jaw clenched in absolute disgust. "If she has the energy to destroy pack property, she clearly doesn't need our charity," he snarled. "Cut her food rations. She gets nothing but water until she learns her place."

He turned on his heel and walked away. Amber offered me one last, victorious smirk before slamming the door shut, plunging me back into the dark.

Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but it was nothing compared to the agony of my shoulder. The silver Amber had rubbed into my wounds was festering. Black veins spider-webbed across my collarbone, radiating a sickening, feverish heat. I curled into a tight ball on my thin cot, shivering uncontrollably, waiting for the end.

Late that night, the lock clicked.

I flinched, expecting Amber to return with more poisoned water. Instead, a soft, familiar scent of lavender and old parchment drifted into the room.

Eleanor.

The Former Luna closed the door silently and knelt beside my cot. She held a small medical kit. When she pulled back the blood-soaked rags covering my shoulder, she let out a sharp, horrified gasp.

"Goddess," Eleanor whispered, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her stoic eyes as she took in the horrific, infected silver burns. "Oh, my sweet girl. What has he done to you?"

I stared at her, my lip trembling. I couldn't speak, but my eyes begged for the one thing I had been denied since waking up: belief.

Eleanor gently wiped the infected skin with a soothing, natural salve. It was the first act of kindness I had felt in eight years. "I know," she murmured, her voice thick with profound grief. "I see it now. I see her deception, and I see my son's cruelty. I am so deeply sorry I didn't act sooner."

She bandaged my shoulder with clean gauze, her hands steady despite her tears. Then, she leaned in close, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper.

"I am liquidating my private estate in the human world," Eleanor said, her eyes locking onto mine with an unshakeable resolve. "It will take a little time to gather the funds and forge the documents, but I am getting you out of here, Elora. You are going to survive this."

A single tear slipped down my cheek. For the first time since my wolf shattered, a tiny, fragile ember of hope sparked in my chest.

But surviving the next few days felt impossible.

The Blood Moon Pack was hosting its lavish annual Winter Solstice Mate Ceremony. It was the night Vincent planned to officially mark Amber, sealing her stolen position as Luna. The pack house was transformed into a winter wonderland, and Amber made sure I was at the center of the grueling labor.

The winter wind howled, biting through my thin, threadbare Omega uniform. My bare fingers were numb and cracked as I dragged heavy wooden crates of ice sculptures across the frozen courtyard. My stomach cramped violently from the lack of food, and every step pulled at the fresh stitches in my shoulder.

Luxury SUVs began to roll up the sweeping driveway. Dignitaries and Alphas from neighboring packs stepped out, wrapped in thick furs and designer coats.

Amber stood on the grand porch, draped in a stunning velvet gown and my ancestral Luna necklace. She laughed loudly, sipping champagne, making sure every arriving guest noticed the pathetic, shivering creature dragging ice in the snow.

"Oh, pay her no mind," I heard Amber say to a visiting Alpha, her voice carrying over the crisp air. "That's just Elora. She woke up from stasis completely out of her mind. She even faked losing her wolf for attention. It's tragic, really."

The visiting Alpha threw me a look of sheer pity and disgust before walking inside.

My knees buckled. I dropped the heavy crate, the ice shattering across the salted pavement. I fell into the freezing slush, my breath coming in ragged, silent gasps. The physical pain was blinding, and the humiliation was a heavy weight pressing down on my throat.

Through the grand windows, I saw Vincent holding Amber by the waist, looking at her with the adoration that used to belong to me.

I closed my eyes, letting the snow freeze against my burning cheeks. I couldn't scream. I couldn't fight back. But as I lay there in the freezing slush, I clung to Eleanor's promise. I just had to hold on a little longer.

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