After My Mate Tried Killing Me

The first emergency came three nights after the ceremony.

I was in the dining hall, forcing down cold soup at a corner table no one else wanted. Duncan sat at the head with Marcus and two visiting Alphas, discussing border patrols. He hadn't spoken to me since the ceremony ended. Hadn't looked at me either.

Then Kylie's voice cut through the room, high and breathless. "Duncan!"

She stumbled through the doorway, one hand clutching the frame, the other pressed dramatically to her chest. Her face was flushed. Her eyes wide. "I—I twisted my ankle on the trail. It hurts so much."

Duncan was on his feet before she finished speaking. He crossed the room in three strides, his hand going to her waist. "Let me see."

She leaned into him, her weight shifting entirely onto his shoulder. "I tried to walk it off, but—" Her voice broke. A perfect little sob.

Marcus frowned. "Should I call the healer?"

"No." Duncan's voice was firm. "I'll take care of her."

He guided her out of the hall without a backward glance. The visiting Alphas exchanged looks. One cleared his throat. The other picked up his fork.

I stared at my soup. My wolf stirred, thin and cold.

*She's not hurt.*

I knew. I'd seen Kylie's ankle as she passed. No swelling. No bruising. She'd walked in on it just fine.

But Duncan had still left.

---

The second emergency came four days later.

I was folding laundry in the service hall—Omega work, assigned to me by Kylie herself that morning with a sweet smile and a comment about "pitching in." Duncan found me there, a basket of his shirts in my arms.

He stopped. Looked at the basket. Then at me.

For a second, something flickered across his face. Discomfort, maybe. Or shame.

"Alivia," he said quietly. "We need to talk."

I set the basket down. Waited.

He opened his mouth—

His phone buzzed. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted. Concern. Urgency.

"It's Kylie," he said. "She's having a panic attack. I have to go."

He was gone before I could respond.

I picked up the basket and kept folding.

---

The pattern repeated. Again and again.

A rogue sighting near her favorite walking trail. A nightmare that left her "too shaken to be alone." A sudden migraine. A strange noise outside her window.

Every time, Duncan dropped everything. Mid-conversation. Mid-meal. Once, he left Marcus standing in his office with a contract half-signed.

And every time, I watched.

I watched the way Kylie's eyes would flick to me before she called his name. The way her voice would shift—just a little too breathy, a little too helpless. The way Duncan's face would go tight with worry, his body already turning toward her before his brain caught up.

She wasn't just his mate. She was his master.

And he didn't even know it.

My wolf's voice was a low, steady growl in the back of my mind. *He chose this. He chose her. Remember.*

I would.

---

Two weeks after the ceremony, I made contact with an old friend.

Not a Silverfang wolf. Not even Moonveil. Elena was a rogue healer who'd patched me up twice during my years in the Wastes. She owed me nothing, but she answered my message anyway.

We met at a diner two towns over, far from pack territory. She slid into the booth across from me, her sharp eyes taking in my too-thin frame, the way my shirt hung loose over the bandages still wrapped around my chest.

"You look like hell," she said.

"I need information," I replied.

She raised an eyebrow. "About?"

"A healer. Silverfang Pack. Name's Dr. Garrett. He diagnosed a wolf-dormancy coma five years ago."

Elena's expression didn't change, but her fingers drummed once on the table. "That's a serious accusation."

"I'm not accusing. I'm asking."

She studied me for a long moment. Then she pulled out her phone, typed something, and turned the screen toward me.

A bank transfer. Fifty thousand dollars. Dated five years ago. Sender: Duncan Hale, Alpha of Silverfang. Recipient: Dr. Marcus Garrett.

Two weeks later, another transfer. Same amount. And another. And another.

Six payments total. Three hundred thousand dollars.

"He relocated to Europe last year," Elena said quietly. "Bought a villa in Greece. Doesn't take patients anymore."

I stared at the screen. My hands were steady. My breathing was steady. But inside, my wolf was howling.

"Can you get me copies?"

Elena hesitated. Then she nodded. "Give me three days."

---

I stored the files in a safety deposit box at a bank in neutral territory, far from Silverfang and Moonveil. The paper trail was thin, but it was there. Wire transfers. Dates that lined up perfectly with Duncan's "accident." A signed NDA buried in the hospital's records.

Proof.

Not enough to take to the Council yet. But enough to know I wasn't crazy. Enough to know I'd been right.

I walked out of the bank and stood on the sidewalk, the key to the deposit box heavy in my pocket.

My wolf pressed against my ribs, stronger now. Still broken, still bleeding, but alive.

*We're going to burn it all down,* she whispered.

Yes. We were.

But not yet. Not until the fire was hot enough to turn everything they'd built into ash.

---

Kylie found me in the laundry room the next morning.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smile playing at her lips. She wore a silk robe—one of mine, from before—and her hair was still damp from the shower.

"Alivia," she said sweetly. "I need you to change the sheets in the master suite. Duncan spilled coffee this morning."

I looked at her. At the robe. At the Luna pendant still hanging around her neck.

"Of course," I said.

Her smile widened. "And when you're done, could you press his shirts? He has a meeting this afternoon."

"Of course."

She pushed off the doorframe and started to leave. Then she paused, glancing back over her shoulder.

"You know," she said, her voice dropping, "it's really admirable. How you're trying to fit in again. Even with... well." Her eyes flicked down to my chest, where the bandages showed through my thin shirt. "Even with everything."

She left.

I stood there, a basket of towels in my arms, and let her words settle over me like a second skin.

My wolf didn't growl. Didn't snarl.

She laughed.

*She has no idea what's coming.*

No. She didn't.

And that was exactly how I wanted it.