My Mate Who Watched Me Die

It was the beta who stumbled upon the scene first.

He had returned—but much too late. Whatever guilt had gnawed at him overnight must have finally broken through, forcing him back before the morning light had fully touched the sky.

He hadn’t expected the carnage.

The clearing was soaked in blood, littered with shards of bone, and chunks of raw, torn flesh. The stench alone was thick enough to choke on—death hanging heavy in the air.

He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide. His breath hitched as his stomach twisted violently.

Crimson blotches had sunk into the soil, mixing with torn cloth—his coat. The same one he had used to cover the newborn against the cold. Now, it was soaked through with blood, the fabric slashed and nearly buried beneath the horror. Jagged slivers of bone pierced through it, and he staggered.

He only made it a step or two before doubling over and vomiting onto the ground. The bitter taste in his throat did nothing to dull the icy dread that crept through his chest.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he stumbled backward, his head shaking, his lips whispering disbelief. He had to alert the others—Rydan needed to know. Turning abruptly, he broke into a sprint, the sound of his own panicked breathing pounding in his ears as he raced back toward the camp.

He burst into the clearing, yelling frantically, voice cracked and hoarse:

“Wild wolves! There were wild wolves in our lands!”

Murmurs broke out instantly among the warriors. Confusion rippled through them. Some looked skeptical. Others glanced at each other with disbelief.

“Wild wolves?” one scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “Seriously? Here? That doesn’t happen.”

Another one shook his head. “There’s no way. The Moon Goddess watches over these grounds. No savage creature could break that protection.”

But the beta wouldn’t back down. His head jerked in denial, voice shaking. “I swear—I saw it. Tracks, claw marks, blood everywhere. It’s real.”

Their raised voices drew more of the pack. Warriors began to gather, curiosity turning to unease. And then Rydan appeared, his presence drawing silence. His eyes blazed with irritation as he scanned the group.

“What is this noise?” he growled. His gaze fixed on the beta. “Have you lost your mind, screaming like a lunatic?”

The beta opened his mouth to speak, but gagged, the images he’d witnessed flashing again before his eyes. Swallowing hard, he clenched his fists and forced the words through trembling lips.

“Come with me. You need to see it yourself.”

Rydan’s frown deepened. He didn’t like being spoken to like that—especially not by someone beneath him. But something in the beta’s shaking hands, the haunted look in his eyes, made a cold shiver crawl up Rydan’s spine.

“…Fine,” he snapped. “Show me.”

Uneasy, the rest of the warriors followed. The earlier tension had curdled into dread. As they neared the area, Rydan’s stride quickened, eventually overtaking the beta.

He knew this place. His instincts screamed warnings as the trees gave way to that cursed patch of forest.

It was where they had left me.

But I was no longer there.

Rydan’s sharp gaze swept over the ground, jaw tightening with frustration.

“Where is she?” he snarled, rounding on the beta. “You moved her? Didn’t I tell you not to untie her? What did you do?!”

The beta’s face went pale. He could barely lift his arm as he pointed, voice quivering. “Th-there…”

Rydan followed his gesture.

The soil was soaked dark, almost black with fresh blood. Patches of flesh—raw, torn, unrecognizable—were scattered around. Crushed bone jutted from the mess, gnawed and splintered.

He blinked, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. No… this couldn’t be.

His chest heaved, claws twitching at his sides. His breath came fast, angry.

“Did I not give orders to keep this place clean? This is a sacred punishment ground. Blood draws disease.”

He shot a venomous look at the beta.

“Well? Still not telling me where she is?”

But the beta only trembled. Then, slowly, he raised a hand again—this time pointing to the wall of stone where I had once been tied. “Th-that’s… her…”

Rydan’s gaze snapped to the rock—and what little denial remained in him shattered.

The stone surface was marred with deep, ragged gouges. Claw marks—wild and desperate—scarred the wall. The scent of wolves still hung in the air, strong and unmistakable. He inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring.

My scent was still there—faint, but lingering. Even in death, I remained.

Then came the scream.

One of the warriors stumbled backward, pale as death, his hand raised, pointing at something behind them.

Rydan turned—and froze.

There, between the twisted roots of a tree, half-buried in dirt and shredded cloth, was a severed head.

A snarl tore from his throat.

My head.

My vacant eyes stared toward the sky, unblinking. My tangled hair was soaked in blood, fanned out in the dirt. My mouth was open, frozen mid-scream. The wound at my neck was jagged and unmistakable.

I had been devoured.

Torn apart by wild wolves alive.