I forced a bitter smile that tasted like ash. My heart had been slowly burning, and in that instant the flames turned the rest to cinders. I pulled my phone out with hands that trembled and dialed my father’s number.
“Dad,” I whispered when he answered. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to sever the mate bond with him. I’m taking the pup back to Silverfang Pack to live with you.”
“Finally,” his voice was steady, the kind of steady you want in a parent. “Stormclaw may be wealthy, but Silverfang can give you a home. If staying there only brings pain, come back. Raise the pup where you can breathe.”
I wanted to argue, to insist I could force him to see reason—but there was no point. The truth had been revealed: Alice and Carson had been meeting, leaning on each other, sharing what I had expected to be ours. For months I had watched him hurry whenever Alice called; I had accepted explanations about “helping a friend through hard times.” Now I realized which side of his loyalties were chosen.
When Alice’s triumphant smile widened and Carson patted her belly fondly, the doctor emerged and, ignorant of the undercurrents, looked at me with that embarrassed, well-meaning sympathy people offer. “Brianna, you’re so lucky. Your mate never misses any of your check-ups—his care is admirable.”
Lucky. The word tasted like bile. Two more weeks, I told myself. Two more weeks and I would be gone from Carson’s life forever. I would not wait to be discarded. I would leave first—so we would not be the ones left to die with shame and broken promises. I looked at my report again, at the list of dates and measurements, and felt the life inside me kick like a small defiant drumbeat. For that tiny life, I had to act.