My Mate Who Watched Me Die

The beta warrior pushed himself through the thick underbrush, lungs burning with each rapid breath. As the lights of the pack's camp came into view, he slowed, scanning the area frantically for any sign of the Alpha. But before he could go any farther, several of Rydan’s guards caught sight of him.

“What are you doing back here?” one of them demanded, eyebrows furrowed. “Weren’t you assigned to watch Marian?”

Another snorted, arms crossed. “Why bother? It’s not like she can go anywhere. She’s securely tied up, and there’s no way off these lands.”

A few of them exchanged mocking smirks, letting out low chuckles. The beta’s mouth opened as he readied to explain—but before he could say a word, a distinct scent drifted toward them, sharp with herbs and earth.

They all turned just in time to see Amara approaching, her steps uneven.

She wore loose, breathable garments that revealed the edges of her bandaged injuries. Layers of salves and herbs clung to her skin, the scent unmistakable. Her movement was labored, each step clearly painful, and her usual air of pride was dulled, her face pale and drawn. Still, she managed a frail smile as she approached the cluster of warriors.

“What’s the commotion about?” she asked, feigning curiosity with practiced ease. “Why are you all gathered here like something urgent happened?”

A warrior stepped forward, speaking without hesitation. “We just returned after dealing with Marian. Gave her what she deserved.”

Amara stopped short, her eyes widening slightly—just enough to seem surprised.

“Dealt with Marian?” she echoed, her voice delicate, touched with disbelief. One hand moved to rest lightly over her heart. “Where’s Alpha Rydan?”

As though her words summoned him, Rydan appeared from the shadows nearby. His imposing form silenced the entire group in an instant. His sharp gaze locked onto the beta warrior, suspicion flaring in his eyes.

“Why are you here instead of fulfilling your assignment?” Rydan barked. “I gave you clear instructions.”

The beta straightened, mouth parting to offer an explanation—but Amara slipped between them, speaking before he could utter a word.

“Rydan,” she said softly, her voice trembling with apparent worry as she looked up at him with wide, imploring eyes. “Is it true? Did you really have Marian punished?”

Rydan’s jaw clenched. “Yes,” he said with conviction. “She had it coming after what she did to you.”

Amara looked down, her hands clasped in front of her.

“I… I don’t hold her actions against her,” she whispered. “Maybe her anger overwhelmed her. She’s carrying a child. That must’ve clouded her thoughts.”

Rydan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re pregnant, too,” he reminded her coldly. “But you don’t behave like that.”

Amara turned her head away, as though the words shamed her. “Perhaps I empathize with her pain,” she murmured. “I don’t want to be the cause of her misery. Leaving her out there, alone… it breaks my heart.”

Her voice was gentle, full of concern, but it only seemed to deepen the scowl on Rydan’s face.

“You’re too soft,” he growled. “Marian needs to understand the consequences of her actions. The last time, you pleaded for her. And what did she do? She nearly killed you—pushed you off a cliff.”

Amara bit her lower lip, seeming to struggle to hold back emotion. “I just don’t want her pain to be because of me…”

Rydan reached out and cradled her face, his touch unexpectedly tender. “She made her own choices,” he told her in a low voice. Then he turned his steely gaze back to the beta warrior.

“You are not to return to her. Leave her where she is. Let her feel the weight of her mistakes.”

The beta hesitated, unease creeping through him, but he gave a stiff nod, unable to go against a direct command.

Pleased, Rydan returned his attention to Amara. He slipped an arm around her waist and gently steered her away from the others. “Come. You need to rest.”

That night, Rydan remained at Amara’s side. They were intimate, though he was careful with her—mindful of the unborn life she carried. Afterward, he pulled her close beneath the sheets, his hand running along her side.

“Don’t think about Marian anymore,” he whispered, brushing a kiss over her shoulder. “You need peace. Focus on yourself and our child.”

Amara gave a bashful nod. “Yes, Alpha. Your wisdom is unmatched. I’ll do as you say.”

The night melted into soft sighs and warm embraces. Rydan held her possessively, pressing her closer, his need to protect her deepening with every breath she took beside him.

But something was off.

He couldn’t place it, but a chill crept over him, spreading like frost beneath his skin. His eyes shifted toward the open window, and he noticed the absence of moonlight.

A moonless night.

He gave a quiet breath, shook off the feeling, and tightened his arms around Amara before surrendering to sleep.

Sleep came swiftly. Too easily.

Until it didn’t.

A sharp, agonized howl cut through the still dawn, followed by urgent voices shouting in the distance. Rydan’s eyes flew open, instincts firing all at once. That eerie sensation from earlier slammed back into him, dragging his thoughts into clarity.

His gaze shot toward the window again—his mind instinctively turning to the place where Marian had been left.

Something was terribly wrong.