Chapter 2

Just then, my phone suddenly started buzzing. The screen flashed with "Clinic Emergency". I wrenched my wrist free from Ethan's grip and answered the call.

"Mina!" The voice of Chloe Miller, one of the younger nurses, came through frantic and breathless in that distinctly werewolf way when panicked.

"It's bad! Mr. Sullivan's wolfsbane poisoning just flared up. His organs are failing. You're the only one who can perform the detox surgery, and none of the senior healers are here!"

My face went pale. "I'm on my way!"

I hung up and grabbed my jacket, ready to bolt, but Grace blocked my path.

"Running away?" Grace sneered. "Got exposed and now you want to slip out? What surgery? I bet Mr. Pierce is calling you over for something else!"

"Move!" My eyes were burning with urgency. "Your father is dying. If I don't get there now, it'll be too late!"

"Stop cursing my dad!" Grace shoved me hard.

I stumbled backward and slammed into the coffee table. Glass shattered everywhere.

Ethan stepped forward, positioning himself in front of Grace, his gaze as cold as ice when he looked at me. "You're still lying? Grace said her father is fine. You're just trying to run away."

"Ethan!" I stared at him in disbelief. "We're fated mates, and you still won't even believe me?"

"Mates?" Grace scoffed. "A Rogue doesn't deserve to be Ethan's mate. Today I'm going to teach this fraud a lesson she won't forget!"

The moment the words left her mouth, she raised her hand and slapped me across the face. The crack echoed through the room, sharp and jarring.

The force knocked my head to the side, and my cheek burned like fire. A sharp, stabbing pain tore through my chest, like needles piercing my heart.

I clutched my face and looked at Ethan. He hadn't tried to stop her.

"Hit her! Frauds like her deserve it! Make her tell the truth! Did she really sleep her way to the top or not?"

The crowd in the room got riled up. A few of the male werewolves cracked their knuckles and closed in with hostile looks.

They were all common werewolves who'd always resented the high-ranking ones. Now they had an excuse to vent under the guise of justice.

I knew I couldn't waste another second. I spun around and made a run for the door.

But the moment I reached it, a massive guy grabbed my arm and hurled me back.

I hit the ground hard. My lower back smashed into the corner of the coffee table, and pain exploded through me as my vision tunneled.

Before I could even get up, a flurry of boots landed, hammering my back and sides with repeated kicks.

"You dare trick Ethan? You've got a death wish!"

"Rogues should stay exiled where they belong! How dare you come out and hurt people!"

Fists and feet landed with brutal werewolf strength. It didn't take long before I was curled up on the floor, arms wrapped over my head for protection.

I could feel my bones screaming in pain. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth, and the metallic taste spread through my mouth.

Grace walked over and stood above me, looking down with contempt. She pressed her boot into my back. "Ready to admit what you did?

"Get on your knees and apologize. Break the mate bond with Ethan, and I'll let you go."

I bit down hard and refused to make a sound. My healing wolf stirred restlessly inside me. She was a small silver-furred wolf, gifted at sensing life forces.

Right now, because of my injuries, she let out a faint, mournful whine.

"Still being stubborn?" Grace pressed down harder with her boot. "I heard you treasure these hands of yours. You use them for surgery and to please Mr. Pierce, don't you?"

Her gaze landed on my hands. They were slender, with long fingers, and had a thin layer of calluses on the fingertips from years of gripping scalpels.

"I'll make sure you never hold a scalpel again!"

Grace lifted her foot and stomped down hard on my right hand.

A bolt of agonizing pain seared my entire body, wrenching a raw, blood-curdling scream from my throat.

I could feel the bones in my fingers grinding and cracking, like they were splintering apart piece by piece. This hand was everything. It was my livelihood, my entire foundation as a werewolf healer.

My silver wolf's mournful cries grew louder and louder. My vision went black, and I nearly passed out.

Just then, the door to the room slammed open. A middle-aged she-wolf rushed in, drenched in sweat. It was Grace's mother, Margaret Anderson.

She looked at me, crumpled on the floor, then at Grace, and cried out, "Grace! Have you lost your mind? Your father is dying! The clinic called and said only Mina can save him!"

Grace froze for a second, then let out a mocking laugh. "Mom, don't believe her! She's a fraud! She's not even a real healer!"

"What fraud?" Margaret was practically stomping her feet in panic.

"Mr. Pierce called me himself! He said your father's wolfsbane poisoning has already spread to his heart. "If we wait any longer, he'll die!"

Her eyes fell on my mangled hand, and her face went pale. "What happened to your hand? Mina, please, you have to come with me!"

I struggled to get up, but my right hand was completely destroyed. The slightest movement sent searing pain shooting through it.

My back throbbed and burned. Every breath tugged at the wounds.

Ethan finally looked shaken as he watched the scene unfold. He stepped forward to help me up, but I pulled away.

"Don't touch me." My voice came out hoarse and laced with the taste of blood. "Ethan, the moment you believed her over me, our mate bond was already broken."

I could feel it clearly. The bond the Moon Goddess gave us had completely severed, leaving nothing but cold, hollow pain.

Margaret was frantic now. She moved to help me, but Grace blocked her path. "Mom, don't let her fool you! She's just trying to run away!"

"Get out of my way!" Margaret shoved Grace hard.

"That's your father! Do you want him to die?"

Grace stumbled back from the push. She looked at her mother's frantic expression. Then she looked at my ashen face and my bloody, mangled hand. For the first time, doubt crept into her mind.

Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from outside the room. Several werewolves in clinic uniforms rushed in. Leading them was a tall, imposing middle-aged man.

It was Father.

The moment he saw me on the floor, his face turned stormy. His Alpha presence instantly filled the room, and the temperature seemed to plummet.

The musky scent in the air was overpowered by the sharp, cutting force of his presence. Everyone instinctively held their breath.

"Who dares hurt my daughter?"