His Unwanted Mate: Awakening The White Wolf

Against the odds, and perhaps against my own weary wishes, I survived.

The pack doctor was a gentle-handed Beta who spent hours flushing the silver from my compromised system. Though he saved my life, the burn on my temple would remain forever—a jagged souvenir of betrayal.

Two days later, Jax appeared in the doorway of the infirmary.

"Catalina is beside herself," was the first thing out of his mouth.

I stared up at the sterile white ceiling, counting the cracks to keep my temper in check. "Is she?"

"She claims you attacked her," Jax continued, stepping into the room. "But... I told her I know you, Eliana. I know you aren't violent."

He sighed, the sound heavy with a burden I hadn't asked him to carry, and sat on the edge of my narrow bed. "Look, I brought you something."

He pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket and snapped it open. Inside, nesting on the dark fabric, lay a necklace with a crescent moon pendant.

It glinted cold and white in the infirmary light.

"It's silver," I breathed, my voice flat. "I am allergic to silver, Jax. We all are. I just spent forty-eight hours dying from it."

He froze, his expression faltering. "It's... coated. It's rhodium-plated. It's safe, Eliana. It's just a gesture. To make peace."

He didn't even know. He didn't think. He was so desperate to fix the surface that he couldn't see the rot underneath.

"I don't want your peace offerings," I said, forcing my body upright. The room spun violently, gray spots dancing in my vision, but I held my ground.

"I submitted my request to the Elders this morning," I told him, my voice gaining strength. "I'm leaving the pack."

"You can't," Jax snapped, his voice rising in panic. "You're an Omega. You'll go Rogue. You'll die out there."

"I'm already dying here," I replied softly.

Before he could argue—before he could spin another web of excuses—the sirens blared.

*ROGUES! ROGUES AT THE NORTHERN BORDER!*

The sound vibrated through the floorboards. Jax's head snapped up, the Alpha instinct instantly overriding the boy who brought bad gifts.

"Stay here," he ordered. Then, without a backward glance, he bolted.

I swung my legs out of bed. They were shaky, trembling like new colts, but I managed to stand.

Outside, the world had erupted into chaos. I could hear the screams, the guttural howls of shifting wolves, and the clash of bodies.

I limped down the hall to my room.

It had been desecrated.

Catalina had been here. My clothes were shredded, my bedding slashed. But amidst the wreckage, I found what I was looking for: a hidden box of letters Jax had written me when we were children.

*To my future Luna.*

I took a lighter from my desk drawer. With trembling hands, I tossed the letters into the metal trash can and flicked the wheel.

The flame caught instantly. It danced hungry and bright, consuming the ink, the paper, and the lies that had bound me to this place.

I watched them burn until they were nothing but gray ash.

"Goodbye, Silver Moon," I whispered into the smoke.

I grabbed my go-bag. The chaos of the attack was my perfect cover.

While the pack fought for its life at the northern border, I slipped unnoticed out the southern gate.

I stepped into the woods. I embraced the dark. And I turned my face toward the distant, artificial glow of the city lights of New York.