I Healed My Mate Only for Him to Betray Me

The morning after my rejection, I woke to Buster's whimpering.

I'd barely slept, my body still trembling from the bond-breaking pain that felt like someone had reached into my chest and torn out my heart with bare hands. Every breath hurt. Every heartbeat was a reminder of what Hayes had destroyed in front of the entire pack.

But Buster's cries pulled me from my spiral of agony.

I found him in the hallway outside Hayes's suite, his graying muzzle pressed against the door, scratching weakly. His tail wagged hopefully when he heard footsteps, probably thinking his master had finally come for him.

The door swung open. Hayes stood there, shirtless, his newly restored body radiating Alpha power. His amber eyes—those eyes I'd given back to him—narrowed at the sight of Buster.

"Still here?" His voice was cold. "I thought I made myself clear last night. I don't need you anymore."

Buster's tail wagged harder, that stupid, loyal, hopeful wag that made my throat tighten.

"Get away from my door." Hayes's boot connected with Buster's ribs. Not hard enough to break anything, but enough to send the old wolf-dog skidding across the polished floor with a yelp.

I moved without thinking, dropping to my knees beside Buster. "He doesn't understand. He's been your guide for ten years—"

"He was a crutch." Hayes stepped over us both like we were furniture. "And I don't need crutches anymore." He called down the hallway. "Marcus! Get some Omegas up here. I want this animal removed to the outdoor kennels. Now."

My hands trembled as I checked Buster's side. Bruised, but not broken. He licked my scarred cheek, whining softly.

"Hayes, it's freezing outside. He's old—"

"Then maybe he'll learn to be useful or die trying." Hayes's voice was casual, like he was discussing the weather. "Either way, I don't want to see him in this house again."

Two Omegas appeared, looking uncomfortable. They knew Buster. Everyone knew Buster. He'd been part of the pack house for a decade.

"Alpha," one of them ventured carefully. "Maybe we could—"

"Did I stutter?" Hayes's Alpha tone crashed over them like a physical wave. They flinched, heads bowing automatically. "Take. Him. Out."

I held Buster as they lifted him, his confused eyes finding mine. I'm sorry, I wanted to say. I'm so sorry I saved the wrong person.

That night, after Hayes and Ember left for their run, I snuck to the kennels. The outdoor structure was meant for temporary housing of visiting pack wolves, not for long-term living. Certainly not for an aging wolf-dog in late autumn.

Buster was curled in the corner of a bare concrete cell, shivering. No blanket. No food. No water.

I wanted to scream. Instead, I picked the lock with shaking hands and gathered him into my arms. He was heavier than I remembered, or maybe I was just weaker. The rejection had drained something fundamental from me.

"Come on, boy," I whispered against his fur. "You're staying with me."

My quarters were small—just a room adjacent to the Alpha suite that I'd occupied for ten years while caring for Hayes. It wasn't much, but it was warm. I'd made it home.

I settled Buster on my bed and went to get him water. When I returned, Ember was standing in my doorway.

"Well, well." She examined her perfect nails. "Still playing nurse?"

I pushed past her to give Buster his water. "What do you want, Ember?"

"Hayes and I are going for a run. A real run, not the pathetic shuffling you used to do with him." She smiled, sharp and cruel. "He wants to show me the northern border. Apparently, it's beautiful this time of year."

The northern border was dangerous territory, close to where the Rogue attack had happened. Hayes's wolf was newly awakened, unstable. He shouldn't be pushing himself that hard, that fast.

"That's not safe," I said before I could stop myself. "His wolf needs time to adjust—"

"Are you questioning your Alpha's judgment, Healer Shaw?" Ember's voice dripped with false sweetness. "Because it sounded like you were questioning your Alpha's judgment."

I bit my tongue hard enough to taste blood.

Ember's smile widened. "That's what I thought. Oh, and Hayes wanted me to tell you—the Alpha suite smells like medicine and wet dog. You'll be moving to the Omega quarters in the basement by tomorrow. He's having your things cleared out tonight."

She left, her laughter echoing down the hallway.

I should have stayed. Should have let them go. But the fading mate bond, even broken and bleeding, still whispered warnings I couldn't ignore.

Something was wrong.

I left Buster sleeping and shifted, my wolf emerging tired and scarred but still strong enough to track. I followed Hayes's scent north, toward the border, toward danger.

I found them stopped in a clearing, moonlight painting everything silver.

Hayes was bent over, hands on his knees, breathing hard. Too hard. His wolf's aura flickered like a candle in wind. Ember stood a few feet away, kicking at something on the ground—a rogue wolf's corpse, probably from a recent border skirmish.

"Look at it," she laughed, driving her boot into the dead wolf's ribs. "Pathetic. This is what happens to weak things in our territory."

Hayes straightened, and I saw him blink hard, his hand coming up to touch his temple. That gesture. I knew that gesture. It meant his vision was blurring.

The antidote wasn't holding.

He needed the stabilization serum I'd prepared, the follow-up treatment I never got to administer because he'd rejected me and thrown me out.

I melted back into the shadows, my heart pounding. He was going to go blind again. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. And he had no idea.

Part of me—the part that was still bleeding from his rejection—whispered that he deserved it.

The rest of me just felt tired.

I returned to my quarters to find Omegas carrying out my belongings. My journals—ten years of carefully documented medical records for every pack member—were piled in the hallway.

Ember stood there, holding a lit match.

"These look contaminated," she said sweetly. "Better burn them. For the pack's safety, of course."

I watched my life's work go up in flames and felt something inside me begin to burn too.

Something that had nothing to do with healing.