I Became the Mate of My Deceased Husband's Twin Brother

Isla's POV

I’m Isla Thatcher, a hunter skilled at gathering rare herbs in the most dangerous places. For years, I've risked my life for the pack, venturing into rogue-infested territories. It’s a life I chose, one I’m skilled at. But the real battle? That’s with Bryce Pierce, the adopted son of Alpha Rowan, one of our pack’s healers, and my chosen mate—though our bond remains a secret. But there's always been a shadow between us—Lucia Bardot, his late master's daughter. She’s like a storm cloud that never drifts away, hovering over every moment we spend together.

I tolerated her presence for years, telling myself that Bryce’s care for her was born from obligation, not love. Lucia had no one else, and I convinced myself it was only compassion that kept him so close to her. But today, I learned the hard way just how wrong I’d been.

We were on a mission deep in Evergreen Mountain, searching for precious herbs, when the rogues came—vicious, relentless. I fought like hell as the best warrior of our group, but we were outnumbered. I protected what I could, but not without a price—deep cuts bled freely, and my leg snapped under the weight of battle. The pain was blinding, but I kept fighting until there was nothing left in me.

We barely made it back to the pack, battered and broken. As I was rushed to the infirmary, I mindlinked Bryce over and over, needing him more than ever. But all I got was silence.

My heart clenched with worry—was something wrong? When we finally arrived, the answer hit me like a punch to the gut.

Through the window of one of the infirmary rooms, I saw Bryce bent over Lucia, healing a severe burn on her arm. His face was filled with concern, and I could almost feel the weight of his hands on her skin, hands that should’ve been healing me. His attention was so consumed with her that he didn’t even notice my scent. My bloodied, broken self didn’t seem to matter.

Anger burned hotter than my wounds as I texted him.

[Isla: So, you're with her—that’s why you’re ignoring me.]

An hour passed before he called. By then, exhaustion had dulled the edges of my rage. I answered, hoping for an explanation. But his voice was cold, dripping with frustration.

“What now, Isla?” His tone was sharp. “Lucia was in an accident, she’s scared. Don’t twist things with your dirty assumptions. If I was really interested in her, why did I choose you to be my chosen mate instead of her?”

His words cut deeper than any rogue’s claws. My leg throbbed painfully beneath its cast, but the ache in my chest was worse.

“I’m hurt too, Bryce,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m at the infirmary—”

“Bryce,” a soft voice called from his end. “I forgot to grab a towel. Can you bring me one? I’m already undressed.”

It was like my heart stopped upon hearing Lucia's voice. They were back at the pack house together, and he hadn't even told me.

My hand tightened around the phone as Bryce rushed to explain, “I’m just helping her, Isla. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d overreact. So please, stop this drama.”

Dramatic. That’s what he thought of me. I bit back the wave of emotions rising in my throat and replied, flatly, "Right. I’m the one being dramatic."

Bryce sighed in frustration. “What’s the point of this now? You know I’m busy.”

And with that, he hung up. I stared at the phone in disbelief. I had fought for my life and endured unbearable pain, and the person I trusted most dismissed me as if I were nothing.

The next day, while the world spun into my fevered dreams, Bryce showed up at the infirmary, all apologies and excuses.

“I didn’t know you were really hurt,” he said, staring at my cast. “I thought you were joking—your group's the best, after all.”

His fingers brushed my forehead gently as if his touch could heal the chasm that had opened between us. “Does it hurt?”

Before, that simple gesture would’ve melted my heart. But today, I couldn’t muster the strength to care.

“No,” I lied flatly.

He frowned, probably sensing the distance. "I know you hate pain. What do you want to eat? I'll bring it for you later," he offered, smiling.

It was a half-hearted attempt to make up for abandoning me. But before I could reply, the door swung open. Lucia breezed in, her arm slipping around Bryce with an ease that made my stomach turn.

“Bryce, I need your help again,” she purred, glancing at me in mock surprise. “Oh, Isla! You really broke your leg? How careless of you. Bryce must be devastated.”

I wanted to scream, but I swallowed it down, refusing to let her see me break.

“I’ll visit you later, okay?” Lucia continued, her voice sugary sweet. “But I need to borrow Bryce now. You don’t mind, right?”

I bit down the bile rising in my throat. “No, I don’t mind.”

Before they went, Bryce repeated his offer, "I know the food here isn't that good. I’ll bring you some food later, alright? Rest up. Gotta go now."

But as the hours passed and my hunger grew, it became clear he’d forgotten.

Later that evening, I overheard the healers chatting outside my room.

"Lucia's really lucky. She has Bryce to cook for her. I'm so envious!"

"True! And it's not just some random wolf, huh, it's Bryce!"

The tears came without warning, burning my eyes as I stared at the ceiling. Bryce, who’d always prided himself on using his hands only for healing, had refused my simple requests in the past. He’d said cooking was beneath him. But now, he was cooking for Lucia.

It was then I realized something painful: I’d always been second to her.