The Mate I Left Behind

The guilt that had clouded Israel’s face a moment ago vanished instantly the second my hand met Esther’s cheek. In its place, fury took root. He stepped between us like a knight shielding a princess, not just because of Esther’s title—as the daughter of another Alpha from a powerful allied pack—but because she meant something to him that I clearly never had.

“Have you completely lost it, Camille?” His voice cut through the tension like a blade.

My gaze didn’t shift to him. I kept my eyes fixed on Esther, my voice low and threatening. “You’d be wise to stop talking.”

Tears welled up in Esther’s eyes, but it was indignation that cracked her voice. “Did I say something false? If your mother hadn’t faked being on her deathbed—if she hadn’t manipulated Israel with her sob story—you wouldn’t have tricked him into marrying you! Everyone knows he’s a frontrunner for Alpha. You were just baggage.”

My lips curved into a bitter, mocking smile as I turned to face Israel. “Is that what you think too? That my mother’s illness was a ploy? That the years she spent wasting away were just a performance to trap you into a bond?”

He didn’t respond.

He didn’t need to.

The silence between us was louder than any words he could have spoken. I searched his eyes, and what I found wasn’t denial. It was doubt. The kind that had always been there, hidden behind carefully chosen words and cold indifference.

I still remembered the beginning. The day my mother collapsed, everything changed. Her body started to wither from an affliction no healer understood—veins blackened, pain relentless. Every day she endured agony with grace. And every day, she told me her one wish before she left this world: to see me claimed by the man the Moon Goddess had chosen for me.

Israel.

That wish drove me to humiliation.

I had begged him, pleaded on my knees. I’d swallowed my pride, watching my wolf suffer in silence, just to make my mother’s final days a little lighter. I should’ve known back then—how little I meant to him. How he only looked at me when pushed.

Israel, the treasured heir of Deep Forest, had enchanted me the first time I laid eyes on him at his rite of passage. When we discovered we were fated, I threw myself into the bond like a moth to flame. I thought love would come with time.

He preferred women who obeyed without question, who never made demands. So I molded myself to fit that shape—silent, compliant, giving. But when Esther returned, everything changed. His smiles were warmer around her. His touch came freely. She clung to his arm, laughed loudly, embraced him whenever she pleased.

Once, I tried to mimic her lighthearted charm. I reached for his hand in a moment of vulnerability, pretending to be coy. He shook me off immediately, his voice flat. “You’re not cut out for that, Camille.”

The humiliation from that day still stung. I had never dared to be playful around him again. It wasn’t just rejection—it was a declaration that I would never measure up.

Our physical closeness had always been non-existent. My wolf had longed for even the smallest touch, but all she received was distance. While Esther basked in his affection, I was a shadow in their world—always trailing behind, never worthy of walking beside him.

Even the pack saw it. To them, Israel and Esther were inevitable. Their bond, though unofficial, was stronger than any sacred tie the Moon Goddess had written into the stars. I was the intruder, the unwanted variable.

He’d paraded Esther proudly at formal gatherings, introducing her to allies, letting her shine under the chandeliers. Me? I was the obligation he finally acknowledged only after my mother’s condition became public, only after I begged him in desperation.

Now, standing across from him, I finally saw him for what he was. A man I’d loved blindly for too long. And perhaps I hadn’t really loved him—maybe I’d just been enchanted by fate, by the mate bond I thought would lead to happiness.

As I spiraled in thought, Esther’s shrill voice tugged me back. “Israel, come look at my face. It’s throbbing. How could she hit me like that? I think it’s swelling!”

He immediately turned his attention back to her, concern etched across his face. A pink outline of my fingers had already bloomed on her cheek.

His expression turned sour, his voice sharp. “Camille, apologize. Right now.”

I straightened my shoulders, meeting his eyes without blinking. “And what if I don’t?”

My voice was calm. Controlled. But inside, something deep had finally snapped—and it wasn’t going back together.