登入TRACY The gray afternoon light filtering through the blinds felt heavy, pressing down on the cramped living room. I sat at my dining table, staring at the lines of diagnostic algorithm code on my laptop screen. The cursor blinked rhythmically. It mocked my inability to focus.That's when it happened. A sudden, vicious cramp seized my abdomen, sharp enough to steal the breath right out of my lungs. I doubled over, pressing the heel of my hand hard into my stomach.Lunar Decay was a masterclass in varied torture. It did not always announce itself with a catastrophic, dramatic collapse like the one that sent me to the hospital. Today, the disease operated as a slow, agonizing drain. Bone-deep exhaustion seeped into my marrow, turning my limbs into lead. The simple act of keeping my spine straight felt like lifting a boulder.How long can my body keep fighting a war it cannot outrun?Not long after, a cold sweat broke out across the back of my neck. My hands trembled so violently over
AUTHOR’S POV The violent tremors shaking Tracy’s frame eventually slowed. Sean kept his hand firmly on her shoulder, anchoring her to the present until her ragged gasps turned into steady, exhausted breathing. She leaned back against the hospital pillows, wiping her damp face with the back of her trembling hand. The absolute panic was gone, replaced by a quiet, lingering shadow of grief that darkened her eyes. Sean stayed seated beside the bed. He did not offer hollow platitudes. He simply held the space.The heavy wooden door swung inward. No knock. No hesitation.Chandler Gaunt strode into the sterile room with the arrogant, heavy step of a man who believed he owned the floor beneath his feet. He wore a sharp charcoal suit, his jaw tight with irritation. He did not look at Sean. His eyes locked onto Tracy, treating the hospital room like an inconvenience she had deliberately designed to waste his time.A lethal, freezing rage ignited in Sean’s chest. His wolf surged against his rib
SEANThe fluorescent lights in the hospital corridor buzzed with a low, irritating hum. The air smelled of bleach and sterile alcohol, a sharp contrast to the suffocating scent of decay I had tracked through Tracy’s apartment hours ago.I stood outside Trauma One. The doctor who had rushed her through the double doors stood a few feet away, holding a digital tablet. He did not look at me with the polite, practiced empathy most doctors used. He looked grim."I am not going to sugarcoat this," the doctor said, his voice flat. "Lunar Decay is not a standard illness. It is a biological and spiritual rot."I crossed my arms over my chest. The muscles in my jaw jumped. "Explain it to me. Plainly."The doctor tapped his tablet, bringing up a scan of Tracy’s chest. "A werewolf’s immune system is tied directly to their wolf. When a mate bond is broken, or corrupted, the resulting trauma can sometimes trigger an autoimmune response. The wolf essentially begins to reject the human host. It attac
SEANI hit the brakes, sliding the heavy SUV to a violent stop at the curb outside the apartment complex. I didn't bother turning off the engine. I kicked the door open and sprinted across the sidewalk. I shoved through the glass double doors of the lobby. It was a cheap, generic building. Three floors. Long, identical hallways. After a few more steps, I stopped at the base of the stairs. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply through my nose. I pushed my human senses to the back and let the Alpha take over. The building smelled of stale coffee, cheap laundry detergent, and old carpet. I filtered it out. I searched for her. I searched for the clean, sharp scent of her skin, mixed with the rotting, icy smell of the decay I had noticed lingering on her for days. There. Second floor. East wing. I took the stairs three at a time. I hit the second-floor landing and turned right. I walked down the narrow corridor, inhaling deeply. The scent of her decay was overpowering here. It smel
TRACYIt started as a deep, creeping cold. I had been feeling sick for three days. I ignored it. I drank more coffee. I took more ibuprofen. I told myself it was just the stress of the resignation, the exhaustion of moving into the new apartment, the lingering adrenaline from the seminar. I told myself I was fine. I was not fine. I woke up just before six in the morning. Cold light filtered through the cheap plastic blinds of my bedroom window. The room was perfectly silent, but inside my body, an alarm was screaming. Then I tried to sit up. But my muscles refused to fire. That’s when the panic hit me, sharp and absolute. I looked down at my hands resting on the blanket. They were trembling violently, the nail beds turning a pale, sickly blue. The cold was no longer just on my skin. It was inside my bones. It felt like someone had injected liquid nitrogen directly into my veins. Lunar Decay.I gasped for air, but my lungs would not expand. My chest felt like it was trapped in a
AUTHOR'S POVYvonne’s internal monologue spiraled into immediate, toxic darkness. Her breathing turned shallow.Her entire identity, her entire claim to power in this pack, rested on one single, unbreakable foundation: Tracy was the loser, and Yvonne was the winner. Yvonne took the Alpha. Yvonne took the status. Yvonne took the expensive jewelry and the prime real estate in Chandler’s life. She was the beautiful, desired prize, and Tracy was the discarded trash.But if Tracy walked away—if Tracy seamlessly transitioned from being Chandler’s ignored mate to standing beside Sean Johnson—the entire narrative inverted.If Tracy leveled up to Sean, Tracy won the breakup. Tracy won the war.Yvonne’s jaw clenched so hard her teeth ached. A cold, furious panic set in. She looked down at her red dress. It suddenly felt cheap. She looked at the enforcer by the bar. He suddenly looked like a common thug.She needed to kill this. Immediately. Tracy could not be allowed to have a victory. Tracy wa







