Chapter 2

Inside the ambulance, I called Alpha Chandler with trembling hands, my voice urgent and shaken.

“Alpha Chandler, please—come to the Northern Recovery Clinic now! Mom’s condition is critical. Her spiritual energy is in chaos, her heart meridian is barely functioning!”

But the Alpha, my mate, replied with chilling indifference.

“Jacqueline already told me everything. You dared to bring those low-bloodline parents of yours into our territory without permission? Harper, you’re becoming more and more out of line.”

I clenched the phone so tightly my fingers went numb.

“They are your parents too! Have you forgotten all the years they raised you? When you were a stray pup with no name, they were the ones who took you in! Before you were a Higgins, you were a Fleming!”

“Faking illness for pity? Don’t try to guilt-trip me with your moral high ground.”

“Get out of my house—or let death cleanse the family line.”

Alpha Chandler had once been the long-lost heir of the Higgins Pack, presumed dead in the chaos of a wolf war. My parents, who had been traveling through the battlefield ruins, stumbled upon a crying child and brought him home. Raised him. Loved him.

Years later, the old Alpha of Higgins Pack found his missing son and reclaimed him. Chandler returned to the Pack, and I—his fated mate—was named Luna.

And now, that very same Alpha spoke to me like a dagger in the dark, cold and final, as if slicing the last thread between us.

Just as the call ended, the surgery room door creaked open. A Pack doctor stepped out, pale and tense, removing the spiritual barrier mask with shaking hands—and handed me a critical condition notice.

I heard the sound of my own heart breaking—a dull, snapping crack. The mate bond between Chandler and me stirred violently, like a whirlpool tearing through my chest.

Another pack doctor approached me quietly.

“Please make the payment for the hospitalization as soon as possible, Luna.”

I froze.

Not only was my mother on the brink of death, but my father—injured by Jacqueline’s violent assault—was unconscious in the room next door.

I fumbled through my wallet, trying to swipe my card.

Declined.

I tried two backup cards.

Both frozen.

There was only one person with that kind of access and power—Alpha Chandler.

Fury ignited in my chest as I called him again. It took three tries before he finally picked up.

“Are you insane, Chandler? You froze my cards? My parents are in critical condition at the Northern Recovery Clinic and need emergency treatment!”

“This is a lesson,” he replied icily. “We agreed—you were not to bring those low-bloodline relatives into our Pack. You broke the rules.”

“She’s your mother!” I screamed. “The doctors said she won’t last much longer!”

There was a beat of silence—then I heard another voice on the line, one I recognized instantly.

Jacqueline.

“They’re dressed like peasants. How could they possibly be your parents?” she sneered. “Didn’t you say they just went on vacation to Sweet Pack? Why don’t we get that old man on the phone? See if he even sounds like your dad.”

Chandler’s voice returned, colder than ever.

“I won’t be coming to the clinic, Harper. If you say he’s my father, let him prove it.”

I laughed, bitterly, as my tears turned to frost.

My father was lying unconscious, lips blue, spiritual energy so faint it was barely there. How could I ask him to prove anything?

The doctor approached me again, grim.

“He’s suffered a neurological shock—likely a mild stroke. He’s lost the ability to speak for now.”

I choked on my own breath.

“He… he can’t talk…”

“Please,” I begged into the phone. “Just unlock the card. I’ll pay—please—”

“Pathetic excuse,” Chandler said, and hung up.

When I tried again, I realized he had blocked me.

A message popped up from Jacqueline.

It was a short video.

She and Chandler, kissing passionately in the Pack House, bodies entwined like they were mid-heat.

The caption read:

“Stop calling. Interrupting the Alpha’s release is a capital offense.”

I stared at the screen, barely breathing.

This was the same man who once pressed his hand to my belly and whispered, “I can’t wait to meet our little pup.”

Now he was tearing my life apart with his bare hands.

But I didn’t have time to fall apart.

My parents needed money. They needed me.

I began to call everyone I could think of—friends, distant relatives, even former business associates.

“Harper, the spirit stone market’s collapsed. I’ve got no liquidity…”

“We just fought a border war, Harper. Our Pack’s resources are strained…”

Excuse after excuse, clawing at me like fangs at my throat.

Finally, a Beta friend messaged me privately and confessed in a roundabout way:

Alpha Chandler had issued a Pack-wide warning on the internal network.

“Anyone who lends Harper Fleming money is challenging my Alpha authority.”

Who would dare defy an Alpha’s edict?

Still, I kept trying. Begging. Promising to repay. Lowering myself, again and again.

But all I received were read receipts and silence. One by one, they muted or blocked me.

I sat on the icy bench outside the Northern Recovery Clinic, clutching my frozen phone, watching the sky grow darker and darker, as the cold seeped into my bones.

No one was coming.