His Mistake, My Revenge: A Second Chance

Scarlett

Killian stared at me, his green eyes wide with something that looked almost like shock. His mouth opened, then closed, as if the words had gotten stuck somewhere in his throat.

"Are you serious?" he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, keeping my expression as neutral as possible despite the way my heart was hammering against my ribs. "Completely serious."

He ran a hand through his dark hair, the gesture so familiar it made my chest ache. "I thought... I thought you'd want something in return. I thought you'd ask me to—" He stopped himself, his jaw clenching.

"To what?" I asked, though I already knew what he'd been about to say. In my previous life, he'd accused me of exactly that—of using Rosalie's illness as leverage to force him into marking me.

"Nothing," he said quickly, but his eyes told a different story. "I just... I expected you to make demands."

"My only demand is simple." I shifted in the hospital bed, ignoring the way the IV tugged at my arm. "After this, I want to sever all ties with the Gates family. Completely. I won't be your stepsister anymore. I won't be part of your pack. I'll be nothing to you."

The silence that followed was deafening. Killian's expression darkened, his wolf probably pushing against his control. When he spoke again, his voice was low and dangerous.

"Don't play games with me, Tessa." He stepped closer to the bed, his presence suddenly overwhelming. "If you think leaving the Gates family will somehow give us a chance, you're delusional. Rosalie is my destined mate. She's the only one I'll ever mark."

The words hit me like physical blows, each one designed to cut deep. My wolf whimpered inside me, a sound of pure anguish that I felt in my bones. But I'd heard these words before. I'd died with them echoing in my head.

"I know," I said quietly, surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "I understand completely."

Killian's frown deepened, as if my calm acceptance confused him more than anger would have. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a soft knock on the door interrupted him.

Dr. Morrison entered, his expression grave. He was a middle-aged man with kind eyes and graying hair, someone who'd always treated me with more compassion than most pack members.

"Miss Gates," he said, then caught himself. "Miss Tessa. I need to discuss the risks with you before we proceed."

Killian stepped back, but I could feel his intense gaze on me as Dr. Morrison pulled up a chair beside my bed.

"Your recent bone marrow donation has left your body in a severely compromised state," the doctor explained, his voice gentle but firm. "Your blood count is dangerously low, your immune system is barely functioning. A full blood transfusion at this point could be fatal."

I heard Killian's sharp intake of breath, but I didn't look at him. Instead, I focused on Dr. Morrison's concerned face.

"What are the exact odds?" I asked.

"There's a sixty percent chance of severe complications. Forty percent chance of... not surviving the procedure."

The room fell silent except for the steady beep of my heart monitor. I could feel Killian's shock radiating from across the room, but I'd already made my decision. I'd made it the moment I woke up in this bed, given this impossible second chance.

"I'll sign the consent forms," I said.

Dr. Morrison's eyebrows shot up. "Miss Tessa, I don't think you understand—"

"I understand perfectly." I met his gaze steadily. "Someone will die if I don't do this. At least this way, there's a chance we both survive."

The doctor looked between me and Killian, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "I'll need to prepare the paperwork. But please, take some time to think about this. Talk to your family—"

"Killian!" A weak voice called from the hallway, cutting through the doctor's words. "Killian, where are you?"

Rosalie. Even through the walls, her voice carried that particular quality that had always made everyone in the pack want to protect her. Soft, vulnerable, with just a hint of breathlessness that made you think of wounded birds.

Killian's entire body went rigid, his head turning toward the sound like a compass finding north. The look on his face—pure, desperate love—was exactly the same as I remembered. It still cut like a knife.

"I'll be right back," he told Dr. Morrison, already moving toward the door. He paused at the threshold, looking back at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "Tessa... there's something different about you today."

Before I could respond, he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the hallway toward Rosalie's room.

Dr. Morrison sighed, gathering his clipboard. "I'll prepare the consent forms, but please reconsider. This is an enormous risk."

After he left, I lay back against the pillows, staring at the white ceiling. Through the thin walls, I could hear Killian's voice, low and soothing, probably holding Rosalie's hand and promising her everything would be okay.

I closed my eyes, remembering how this had played out the first time. In a few minutes, Rosalie would start crying about how she couldn't ask me to risk my life for her. How she knew I hated her and would never agree to help. Killian would rush back to convince me, and I'd refuse because I was too scared, too weak.

But this time was different. This time, I knew exactly what kind of person Rosalie really was beneath that fragile exterior.

Footsteps approached my room again—multiple sets this time. I opened my eyes to see Killian returning, but he wasn't alone. Rosalie was with him, leaning heavily on his arm, her face pale but her eyes sharp and calculating.

She looked exactly as I remembered—delicate features, long blonde hair that always seemed to catch the light perfectly, and those wide blue eyes that could make anyone believe she was innocent. She wore a pink silk nightgown that somehow managed to look elegant even in a hospital setting.

"Oh, Tessa," she said, her voice trembling with what sounded like genuine emotion. "I heard what Killian asked you to do. Please, don't feel pressured. I know how much you hate me. I know you'd never want to help me."

Tears gathered in her eyes, making them sparkle like sapphires. It was a masterful performance—one that had fooled me completely the first time around.

"Actually," I said, my voice calm, "I've already agreed to donate the blood."

Rosalie's tears stopped as if someone had turned off a faucet. For just a moment, her mask slipped, and I saw something cold and calculating flash across her features. Then the vulnerable expression was back, but now I could see it for what it really was—a weapon.

"You... you agreed?" she asked, her voice higher now, almost shrill. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," I confirmed.

Rosalie's grip on Killian's arm tightened, her knuckles going white. "What did you ask for in return? Did you... did you make Killian promise to mark you?"

The accusation hung in the air like poison. I could see Killian tense, waiting for my answer, probably expecting me to confirm his worst suspicions about my motives.

"I didn't ask for anything except to be released from this family," I said simply.

Rosalie's face went through several expressions in rapid succession—confusion, disbelief, and then something that looked almost like rage. Before I could react, she'd pulled away from Killian and crossed the room in three quick steps.

The slap came so fast I didn't have time to dodge it. Her palm connected with my cheek with a sharp crack that echoed through the room, the force of it snapping my head to the side.

"You disgusting little manipulator!" she screamed, all pretense of fragility gone. "You think this makes you noble? You think Killian will be grateful and finally notice you? If he ever marks you, I'll kill myself! Do you hear me?"

I touched my burning cheek, tasting blood where my teeth had cut the inside of my mouth. Through the ringing in my ears, I saw Killian take a step toward me, his face a mask of shock and something that might have been protective instinct.

But then Rosalie let out a sob that sounded like a wounded animal, and he stopped mid-step. His internal struggle was visible—the brief moment where he'd wanted to help me warring with his deeper loyalty to her.

Loyalty won, as it always did.

He turned away from me and gathered Rosalie into his arms, holding her trembling form against his chest. "Shh," he murmured into her hair. "It's okay. Everything's okay."

I stood up slowly, my legs shaky from the medication and blood loss. The slap had left my face throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the familiar ache in my chest.

"I should go sign those consent forms," I said quietly, moving toward the door.

As I reached the threshold, Killian's voice stopped me. He didn't turn around, didn't look at me, just held Rosalie tighter as he spoke.

"Rosalie is my only mate," he said, his voice carrying clearly across the room. "As for anyone else? It's impossible."

I paused in the doorway, my hand gripping the frame so tightly my knuckles went white. In my previous life, those words had shattered me completely. They'd been the beginning of the end, the first crack in the dam that would eventually burst and drown me in that frozen lake.

But this time, I just smiled—a bitter, knowing expression that no one could see.

"I know," I whispered, so quietly that only I could hear it. "That's exactly what I'm counting on."

And with that, I walked away, leaving them to their perfect, toxic love story. This time, I wouldn't be there to watch it destroy me.