The small healer’s hut was filled with the warm scent of herbs—lavender, chamomile, and eucalyptus. Abigail worked tirelessly, her hands busy grinding roots into powder. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, but she didn’t stop. She hadn’t stopped in weeks.
“Abigail, take a break,” her mentor, Elder Miriam, said softly from the other side of the room. She was a short, silver-haired woman with wise eyes and a calming presence.
“I’m fine,” Abigail replied quickly, her voice steady.
“You’re not,” Miriam said firmly, stepping closer. “You’ve been throwing yourself into this work like the devil’s on your heels.”
Abigail paused, her hands freezing over the mortar and pestle. She stared down at the crushed herbs, her jaw tight. “I need to keep going. I can’t waste time.”
Miriam’s eyes softened. “You can’t heal the world if you’re too broken to heal yourself, child.”
Abigail swallowed hard but didn’t respond. She focused on the herbs, determined to prove she didn’t need anyone—not Luke, not the pack, not even the Moon Goddess.
Outside, she could hear the distant sounds of wolves sparring in the training fields. Once, she might have been there, mingling with the others, trying to fit in. But not anymore. She had made her choice. She would be a healer—someone who saved lives, not someone who wasted hers chasing after a mate who didn’t want her.
Across the pack lands, Luke wasn’t faring as well.
His wolf prowled restlessly in his chest, snarling and snapping at every turn. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—those piercing green eyes, the way they’d looked at him when she said, Mate. He remembered the way her voice had trembled, the pain in her expression when he’d rejected her.
“Damn it,” Luke growled, punching a tree with enough force to crack the bark.
“Take it easy, Beta,” a nearby wolf said nervously. “That tree didn’t do anything to you.”
Luke shot him a glare that sent the wolf scurrying away. His chest heaved with frustration, his wolf clawing at him from the inside.
“You’re the one who ruined it,” the wolf’s voice snarled in his mind. “She was ours, and you threw her away.”
“Shut up,” Luke snapped aloud. But his wolf didn’t listen. The bond he’d tried so hard to sever was still there, like a thread pulling taut, refusing to break.
Later that day, Abigail walked through the forest, a basket of herbs in her hands. The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting golden light on the forest floor. She enjoyed this time alone, away from the noise and judgment of the pack.
But her peace didn’t last.
“Abigail!”
Her body stiffened at the sound of his voice. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
“Go away, Luke,” she said without looking back, continuing her walk.
“Not happening,” he growled, his footsteps heavy as he caught up to her. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks.”
Abigail stopped abruptly, spinning to face him. “What do you want?"
He stood before her, his golden eyes blazing with frustration. His hair was tousled, and his fists were clenched at his sides. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
“I want to talk,” he said through gritted teeth.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Abigail replied, her tone cold. “You made yourself very clear at the ball.”
Luke flinched, guilt flashing across his face, but he quickly masked it with anger. “You think you’re better off without me?”
“I don’t think, Luke—I know,” Abigail snapped. “I don’t need a mate who looks at me like I’m a mistake. I’m done with you. I’m done with all of it.”
His jaw tightened, and his wolf growled low in his chest. “You think it’s that easy? You think you can just walk away from the bond?”
Abigail stepped closer, her green eyes blazing. “Watch me.”
The tension crackled between them, the bond pulling at them even as they stood on opposite sides of an invisible line. Luke’s wolf fought to bridge the gap, but his pride and Abigail’s resolve kept them apart.
“Abigail,” Luke said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “You don’t understand. This—this isn’t just about us. The pack…”
“I don’t care about the pack,” Abigail cut him off, her voice sharp. “They didn’t care about me when I was the outcast, and they sure as hell didn’t care when you humiliated me in front of everyone. So, no, Luke. I’m not doing this for them, or for you.”
She turned to leave, but Luke grabbed her arm, his grip firm but not rough.
“Don’t walk away from me,” he said, his voice low.
Abigail stared at his hand on her arm, her expression icy. “Let me go.”
For a moment, he hesitated, his wolf clawing at him to hold on. But finally, he released her, his hand dropping to his side.
“I’m warning you, Abigail,” he said, his voice dark. “The Moon Goddess doesn’t take rejection lightly. There are consequences for breaking the bond.”
Abigail met his gaze, unflinching. “Then I guess I’ll deal with them. Alone.”
She turned and walked away, leaving him standing in the forest, his wolf howling in frustration.
Unbeknownst to either of them, the pack’s elders were already whispering. The skies had grown darker in the days since the Mating Ball, the wind colder. Crops were failing, and animals were becoming restless.
“The bond has been rejected,” one elder murmured, his voice grave.
“The balance is breaking,” another added. “If the Beta and the healer don’t unite, the pack will fall into ruin.”