Chapter 1: Too Late

The call dropped. The rogues lunged at me like mad, and I blacked out within seconds.

Three days later, Elara's skin got corroded by silver on her hand, and she needed me—a healer—to fix it. That's when they finally remembered I existed. But I wasn't home anymore.

My soul stood right in the middle of the living room, watching my father and mother tear into each other over my disappearance.

"If she's going to be this reckless, then we trigger the Karma Settlement right now. Make her pay back everything she owes Elara, then banish her from the territory!"

"If it weren't for Elara's weak constitution, she'd be the one Alpha Theodore should take as his future Luna!"

Father told Theodore to call me. But Theodore was too busy fussing over Elara. He didn't even look up.

Theodore was my fated mate. In the beginning, he promised he'd be my strongest anchor. Then Elara came along. She was frail, fragile—and Theodore could never stop worrying about her.

Elara always played the victim with that fake sweetness. First, she made my parents think I was always bullying her. Now? She'd made Theodore believe the same thing.

Eventually, he always preferred taking care of Elara. She'd get a paper cut, and he'd ditch Alpha duties to stay by her side all night. Meanwhile, I'd come back bruised and broken from training, and all he'd give me was a cold, "Train harder. Don't embarrass the pack."

He got used to my compliance. He got used to choosing her over me, every single time, without a second thought.

"She'll come back on her own," Adrian cut in with a sneer. "It's just another one of her disappearing acts to get our attention."

With that, Adrian stomped upstairs and crawled into that cramped little attic room. The moment he pushed the door open, he spotted bloodstained bandages scattered across the floor and a diary ripped to shreds. He kicked them aside in disgust—

"Damn it, how many times have I told Diana not to leave her crap everywhere?"

He had no idea those bandages were from my injury last week. And that diary—the one that held every single bit of my pain—Elara had torn it apart with her own hands.

Down in the living room, Elara's eyes were red-rimmed. She fumbled for her phone with trembling fingers, calling my number. Of course, no one answered. She collapsed into Mom's arms, sobbing like she was about to pass out.

"Dad, Mom, I'm so worried about Diana. What if something happened to her? If I hadn't thrown that party, would she still be here? Would she have run off at all?"

"This isn't your fault, Elara. You deserve everything good in this world." Mom pulled her tighter, her voice thick with pity.

Everyone comforted the sweet, thoughtful Elara. But no one noticed the phone screen still glowing in her hand—with the message she'd sent me:

[Hope those rogues marked you real good. The party was amazing, by the way. Also, hope you had fun with them. Even better if you're dead.]