After erasing my pack identity, the betrayed alpha regretted

Hidden behind the enchanted ward, my fingers ripped through the linen gown.

His friend had called it "minor scratches," but Caroline's hospital bed was ringed with candles.

The door creaked open, releasing a wave of ... my own blood.

Caroline leaned against the headboard, her wrist bandaged in gauze.

Anders knelt at her bedside.

"Does the scar throb?" His voice was velve.

Caroline sniffled.

"First the car crash, now this..."

"I'm a curse, Anders. Jessica will-"

"Shh."

"I'll handle her."

Anders' voice dropped to a growl.

"We're mates, Caroline. "

He reached behind his neck, unclasping a chain that had rested there for years.

The pendant hit my nose like a silver bullet: a crescent moon carved from the same Pact Stone we'd sworn on, set with a fang from his first shift.

I'd spent 365 nights bleeding into a silver cauldron, summoning the Moon Goddess to bless it-each drop of my pureblood now pulsed in the charm.

He was already fastening the chain around Caroline's neck.

Caroline gasped, clutching the charm.

"But this is the Bloodmoon stone you said-"

"-that only my true mate could wear."

He finished, pressing a kiss to her bandaged wrist.

"Consider it a late mating gift."

I staggered back, hitting a silver IV stand. The charm around Caroline's neck throbbed in time with Anders' heartbeat. The memory of giving him that gift burned in my throat: how he'd sworn to wear it until his last breath.

My heart tore like flesh under a dull blade.

I fled the hospital, steps as airy as mist.

The moment I shut the door, my phone vibrated-Anders' message:"Baby, urgent business . Don't be angry. I'll make it up to you."

Staring at the screen, my fingers shook over the keyboard.

I typed:"Business trip, or time with your loved she wolf?"?

I spent the days packing:-every trace of "Jessica Lagerfelt" stuffed into a black suitcase.

As the zipper closed, I heard something shatter in my chest: quiet, final.

Five days later, Anders returned.

He pushed the door, holding a bouquet of roses , smile as tender as memory:

"Baby, I'm home."

I stood in the living room.

He set down the flowers, reaching to hug me:

"I hated leaving you. Forgive me?"

"I'm not angry. Do what you need."

He paused, then smiled, taking my hand:

He paused, diamond cufflinks catching the chandelier light.

"No more pack board meetings." His thumb brushed the back of my hand "I have a surprise in the penthouse."

The elevator opened to a wall of white roses, their petals dusted with diamond powder.

As we stepped onto the marble floor, a crowd of socialites gasped, iPhones flashing:

"Can you believe it? Alpha Trier bought out the entire Burj Khalifa penthouse for Miss Lagerfelt!"

"Those roses are from his private greenhouse in Monaco-each one costs a thousand dollars."

"Look at that necklace! Is that the Star of Africa II? He had it recut into her birthstone."

I touched the diamond pendant, its weight pulling at my neck.

The stone was indeed my birthstone, but something felt off.

A socialite whispered behind her hand: "Did you hear? He chartered a private jet just to pick up her favorite macarons from Ladurée. The flight cost more than my apartment."

Another laughed: "Devotion? He's obsessed. I heard he had this entire penthouse redecorated three times."

He'd gifted me the world's romance, yet given mate bonds to another.