Letting My Mate Have a Taste of His Own Medicine

Harper's POV

A cold, sharp edge crept into my expression as I turned to walk away. But before I could leave, Jovan and Novaria finally noticed our presence as they heard our conversation. They approached us, their faces a mix of concern and confusion.

Novaria, always quick to play the innocent, flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Harper, finally, you’re here. Let’s start our dinner."

I leveled a cold stare at her, my voice icy. "No, I can’t eat with you guys around."

Her smile wavered, and I could see the tension in her eyes. She wasn’t used to me pushing back like this. "Harper, what do you mean?"

Ignoring her, I locked my gaze on Otis. "She calls you every time she has a problem, and you always rush to her side without a second thought. I didn’t understand why before, but now I do. Do you find it amusing to play this act in front of me?"

Otis’s face hardened, his eyes flaring with that intense orange glow that always appeared when he was angry. His voice was rough, edged with frustration. "What nonsense are you talking about? I’ve told you before—I only see Nova as my sister!"

Novaria’s face drained of color, her composure faltering.

I looked between them, a wave of disgust washing over me. I’d once been so devoted to Otis, pouring my heart into our bond, but now it felt like a cruel joke—one that they were all in on.

"Well," I said, my voice cutting through the tension, "I no longer care about whatever relationship you have with her, because I, Harper Delaney, reject you, Otis Collier, as my mate."

He moved to stop me, but I was quicker, my words slicing through the air with finality. The bond between us shattered, and I watched as he clutched his chest, pain twisting his features.

"Don’t come looking for me again," I spat, my voice cold and unyielding.

I didn’t spare him another glance as I turned on my heel and walked away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Novaria and Jovan rush to his side, trying to comfort him, but I no longer cared.

Little did they know, the pain searing through Otis was nothing compared to the agony tearing through my own heart—multiplied tenfold. I sprinted back to White Fang Pack, tears streaming down my cheeks as I fought to endure the pain that threatened to consume me.

As soon as I reached the border, I pulled out my phone, my hands trembling. With a few taps, I deleted every trace of him from my life—messages, photos, everything. This time, I would erase him completely, burn every bridge, and let the ashes scatter in the wind.

Not recognizing him once was a moment of confusion; doing it repeatedly would be sheer folly.

I kept walking, my feet moving on their own until I found myself in a very familiar place—the lake.

I sat by the water’s edge, the memories flooding back—of someone who used to be here with me, someone I wished was here now. Sylas. My childhood friend, the one who always knew how to lift my spirits. We’d always met here, but only in the summer, and I never understood why.

He was my safe place, my anchor, and I remembered how I’d once secretly wished he was my mate, how easy it would’ve been if fate had chosen him instead of Otis.

Lost in thought, the tears came again, hot and unrelenting. As I wept, I was startled by a voice, unfamiliar yet oddly comforting, coming from behind me.

"I’ve been waiting for you here for years now."

The scent that accompanied the voice sent a shiver down my spine—familiar, like a long-lost memory suddenly awakened.