Sloane's POV
I wake up screaming.
Not out loud—I learned months ago how to keep the screams inside my head. But my wolf is howling, clawing at my insides like she's trying to rip her way out of my skin. The pain is everywhere. In my bones. In my blood. In the empty space next to me where my husband used to sleep.
Dacian's side of the bed is cold. Again.
I press my hand against the sheets anyway, hoping for some warmth, some sign that he was here. Nothing. He hasn't slept in our bed for three months now. Ever since the night I almost shifted in my sleep and hurt him.
My stomach twists with hunger even though I ate a huge dinner. But it's not food I'm craving. It's something deeper, something my wolf needs that I can't give her. The mate bond. The connection that's supposed to tie me to Dacian forever, keeping me sane and strong and alive.
Except ours is broken.
And broken bonds kill she-wolves. Slowly. Painfully.
I drag myself out of bed, my legs shaking. When I catch my reflection in the mirror, I freeze. My eyes are glowing gold—bright, burning gold that lights up my whole face. They've been doing this for weeks now, but they've never stayed gold this long. Usually I can force my wolf down, make my eyes go back to normal brown.
Not today.
"No, no, no," I whisper, gripping the bathroom sink. "Please calm down. Please."
My wolf doesn't listen. She's too hungry, too desperate. She wants our mate. She wants Dacian's scent, his touch, his mark on our skin. She doesn't understand why he can't give us those things anymore.
I splash cold water on my face over and over until my eyes finally dim back to brown. My hands are trembling. In the mirror, I look like a ghost—too thin, too pale, dark circles under my eyes like bruises. I used to be pretty. Dacian used to tell me I was the most beautiful she-wolf in the whole Pacific Northwest.
He doesn't say things like that anymore.
I get dressed in the same sweatpants and t-shirt I've worn for three days. Who cares? It's not like anyone sees me anymore except Dacian, and he barely looks at me now. Every time he does, I see the guilt in his eyes, and it makes everything hurt worse.
Downstairs, I smell coffee. Dacian must be up early again. My wolf perks up at his scent—pine trees and thunderstorms—and I have to force her down again. She doesn't understand that he can't be our mate anymore. She just knows she's starving and he's the only food she wants.
I walk into the kitchen and there he is, standing at the counter in jeans and a black shirt. Even after everything, he's still the most handsome man I've ever seen. Tall, strong, silver hair that turned that color after the attack two years ago. He used to have dark hair like mine.
The rogues who attacked us took more than his hair color. They took his wolf.
"Morning," he says without turning around. His voice is flat. We don't do emotions anymore.
"Morning," I reply.
"Coffee?"
"Sure."
He pours me a cup and sets it on the table. We sit down across from each other like strangers. Like we didn't spend six years sleeping tangled together every single night. Like we didn't used to laugh until we cried. Like we didn't build this whole life together.
"Did you sleep?" he asks, staring at his coffee.
"Yeah, fine," I lie.
"Liar." But he doesn't push it. He never does anymore.
We eat breakfast in silence. Toast with butter. Eggs. Normal food that tastes like nothing because nothing tastes good anymore. My wolf doesn't want food. She wants connection, completion, the bond that's supposed to keep us alive.
Dacian finishes first and stands up. "I have pack business this morning. Council meeting."
"Okay."
"Will you be alright?"
It's the same question he asks every morning. I give him the same answer: "I'm fine."
We both know it's a lie.
He hesitates at the door, his hand on the doorknob. For just a second, I think he's going to turn around and hug me. Tell me he loves me. Tell me we'll figure this out. But he doesn't. He just leaves.
The second the door closes, I fall apart.
I slide down onto the kitchen floor and sob so hard I can't breathe. My wolf is howling again, louder this time, desperate and dying. She doesn't understand why our mate doesn't want us anymore. She doesn't understand that it's not his fault—the attack damaged something inside him, severed his connection to his wolf, and when an Alpha loses his wolf, the mate bond breaks.
But understanding doesn't make the pain stop.
I don't know how long I cry. Minutes? Hours? Time doesn't mean much anymore. Eventually I run out of tears and just lie there on the cold kitchen tile, empty and aching.
That's when I smell it.
Two wolves. Male. Powerful. Coming up the driveway fast.
My wolf's head snaps up inside me, suddenly alert. These aren't pack members—I'd recognize their scents. These are strangers. And they're getting closer.
I force myself to stand up, wiping my face. Maybe it's messengers from another pack. Maybe it's trouble. Either way, I need to pull myself together. I'm still the Alpha's mate, even if the bond is broken. I still have duties.
I walk to the front window and peek through the curtains.
A black truck is pulling up to the house. Two men get out, and my breath catches.
They're both gorgeous—one with dark skin and bronze eyes, the other tall and lean with black hair. But that's not what makes me freeze.
It's the way my wolf reacts.
She surges forward inside me with more strength than she's had in months, almost knocking me over. My eyes flash gold again. My heart starts racing. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to run outside, to get closer to them.
No. That's crazy. I don't even know who they are.
But my wolf doesn't care. She's clawing at my control, desperate to get to them. It doesn't make any sense. The only wolf who should affect me like this is Dacian, my mate.
Except he's not really my mate anymore, is he?
The dark-skinned man starts walking toward the house. The closer he gets, the stronger the pull becomes. It feels like invisible ropes are tied around my chest, dragging me toward him. My skin feels hot. My wolf is practically purring.
What is happening to me?
Then he stops, about twenty feet from the porch. His whole body goes rigid. His bronze eyes lock onto mine through the window, and I watch them flash bright gold—the sign of a wolf recognizing something important.
The other man, the one with black hair, goes still too. Both of them are staring at me like they've seen a ghost.
And that's when I feel it.
The snap.
Like a rubber band pulled too tight suddenly connecting. Like lightning striking. Like coming home after being lost for years. A warmth floods through my chest, erasing the cold ache that's been there for months. My wolf stops howling and starts singing instead.
The mate bond.
But that's impossible. I'm already mated to Dacian. You can't have two mates. It's against every law of nature, every rule our kind has ever had.
The front door bursts open and Dacian runs in, breathing hard like he sprinted home. His eyes find mine immediately.
"You felt it," he says. Not a question.
"I don't understand," I whisper. "What's happening to me?"
Dacian looks out the window at the two men standing frozen in our driveway. His face does something I haven't seen in two years.
He smiles.
"They're here," he says quietly. "Thank God. They're finally here."
"Who are they?" My voice is shaking.
Dacian turns to me, and his eyes are full of something I can't read. Hope? Fear? Relief?
"Your new mates," he says. "The ones who are going to save your life."