I Healed My Mate Only for Him to Betray Me

The pack hospital smelled like antiseptic and lies.

I pushed through the double doors with Buster's prescription clutched in my hand—a simple arthritis medication I could've made myself if Ember hadn't burned my entire laboratory's worth of supplies. My fingers still bore faint burn marks from trying to salvage what I could from the flames.

The hallway was chaos. Construction workers hauled equipment past me, their boots tracking dust across floors I used to keep pristine. The sound of drills and hammering echoed off the walls, making my already-pounding head throb worse.

I stopped dead when I reached the trauma ward.

My trauma ward. The one I'd designed after three years of research. The one I'd funded by selling my potions to neighboring packs under the name "Silver Witch." The specialized equipment for silver poisoning treatment, the isolation rooms for infection control, the herb garden visible through the windows—all of it paid for with my own money while Hayes was blind and the pack council dismissed my proposals as "unnecessary expenses."

Now it was being gutted.

"Careful with that!" Ember's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. She stood in the center of the destruction wearing designer workout clothes that probably cost more than the medical equipment being carted away. "I want the massage tables positioned to catch the morning light. And make sure the aromatherapy diffusers are installed by tonight."

A massage table. Where my silver-burn treatment station used to be.

"What are you doing?" The words came out strangled.

Ember turned, her perfect face lighting up with false delight. "Aria! I was hoping you'd stop by. I wanted to thank you personally for all your hard work on this space. It's going to make the most wonderful Luna wellness center."

"This is a trauma ward." I stepped forward, my wolf snarling inside me. "We need this. Silver poisoning cases, rogue attacks—"

"Can be treated in the general ward." Ember waved a dismissive hand. "Hayes agrees that pack morale is just as important as physical health. And what better way to boost morale than giving our Luna a proper space to relax and rejuvenate?"

Our Luna. She said it like she'd already been crowned.

"You can't just—" I grabbed a worker's arm as he lifted one of my custom-built detox stations. "Stop. That equipment is irreplaceable."

"Actually," Ember's voice went cold, "I can do whatever I want. I'm the Alpha's chosen mate. You're just the help." She moved closer, her voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear. "I know your little secret, Silver Witch. All those miracle potions you've been selling? The ones that made you enough money to build this sad little project?"

My blood went cold.

"Once you're gone—and you will be gone, Aria—I'll take over your client list. Your recipes. Your reputation." Her smile was poison-sweet. "After all, who's going to believe a scarred, rejected Omega over the Silverclaw Pack's beautiful new Luna?"

She reached out and traced one of the silver scars on my cheek. I jerked back, but not before I saw the satisfaction in her eyes.

"These are so tragic," she cooed loud enough for the workers to hear. "You really should consider covering them. They're quite disturbing."

I left before I did something I'd regret. Or maybe something I wouldn't regret at all.

Hayes's office was on the top floor of the pack house, all windows and power. I'd been there a thousand times during his blind years, helping him navigate paperwork, reading reports aloud, being his eyes.

Now the door was closed. Locked.

I knocked anyway.

"Enter." His voice carried that new Alpha authority, the one that made weaker wolves' knees buckle.

He sat behind his massive desk, Marcus standing beside him with border maps spread out between them. Hayes looked up, and I watched his expression shift from neutral to annoyed.

"I'm busy, Aria."

"The Blood Moon Pack is moving on the northern border." I stepped forward, ignoring Marcus's warning look. "I have contacts—rogues who owe me favors. They've seen Ian's scouts. He's planning something."

Hayes leaned back in his chair, a smile playing at his lips. "Rogues who owe you favors? What, did you heal their mange?"

Marcus shifted uncomfortably.

"This is serious," I pressed. "Ian tried to kill you once. He knows you were vulnerable. If he thinks—"

"If he thinks what?" Hayes stood, his Alpha aura pressing against me like a physical weight. "That I'm still the weak, blind Alpha who needed a glorified maid to function? I'm not that person anymore, Aria. I'm stronger than I've ever been."

"Your wolf just awakened. You need time to—"

"I need you to stop pretending you understand war strategy." He moved around the desk, towering over me. "You're a healer. A mediocre one, apparently, given your own scars never healed properly. Stick to bandages and leave pack security to those of us who actually know what we're doing."

The dismissal stung worse than the rejection bond.

"Hayes—"

"Alpha Spencer," he corrected coldly. "And you're not welcome in my office anymore. If you have medical concerns, submit them in writing to Marcus. He'll decide if they're worth my time."

He turned his back on me. Conversation over.

I was halfway down the stairs when I heard the commotion from the training grounds.

Shouts. Not the usual sounds of sparring, but genuine alarm.

I ran.

The pack's warriors were gathered in a circle, and in the center, Hayes was on one knee, his hand pressed to his temple in that gesture I knew too well. Blood trickled from his nose.

A young Delta stood over him, looking horrified. "Alpha, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine." Hayes stood, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. His voice was steady, but I saw the tremor in his fingers. "I was going easy on you. Wanted to see if you'd take advantage of an opening."

The lie was smooth. Practiced.

But I'd seen what really happened. The way his eyes had unfocused. The way he'd missed a block that should've been instinctive.

His vision was failing.

The antidote was breaking down.

And he had no idea that the only person who could save him was the one he'd just thrown away.