Chapter 1

Sabrina's POV

"Miss Fisher, are you sure you want to purchase Plot 66 in Restlawn Cemetery?"

"Yes," I replied, gripping my phone so tightly the plastic casing groaned under the pressure.

"In that case, please provide the death certificate of the deceased."

My breath hitched. It felt like I was swallowing shattered glass, and my voice sounded so raspy and hollow it was unrecognizable. "She isn't dead yet... but she will be soon."

"Understood. And what is your relationship to the intended occupant?"

"...It's for me."

Dead silence met me on the other end of the line.

Without waiting for a response, I hung up. Inside me, the faint, restless spark of my wolf soul whimpered in agonizing sorrow.

My eyes locked onto the medical report crumpled in my other hand.

Pathogenic Gene Carrier: Wolfless & Huntington's Disease—the words burned into my retinas like a branding iron.

A week ago, while going through my late father's belongings, I had stumbled upon a diagnosis sheet.

It had come as a complete shock. My father had died years ago from an accidental fatal fall.

Before that, no one had any idea he was carrying such a sickness.

In the werewolf society, failing to awaken a powerful wolf was already a badge of shame. But a hereditary disease that caused the nervous system to collapse? That was the most vicious curse imaginable.

Consumed by a paralyzing dread, I had secretly gone to the hospital to get tested myself.

The doctor's words still rang like a death knell in my ears: "Your wolf will likely never fully mature. Once the disease takes hold, you will die just like a mindless rogue. The probability of onset within the year is over eighty percent."

My entire world shattered into pieces.

The only lifeline I could think of was Zander.

He was the Ironspike pack's most powerful alpha, and the only beacon of light in my life.

With trembling fingers, I dialed his number, desperate for even a memory of his soothing cedar scent—the only thing capable of calming my storm.

Three times I called. Three times I was met with nothing but a cold, automated voicemail. As the screen went dark, it reflected the tears streaming down my face.

Memories rushed in, drowning me like a tidal wave.

When I was five, my stepfather passed away.

Late one rainy night, my mother, Adela, stood packing her suitcases. She reeked of a strange male's scent—one that definitely didn't belong to the Ironspike pack.

"Sabrina, I found my second-chance mate," she had said coldly. "His alpha's pack doesn't allow pups from previous relationships. You're staying here with the Ironspike pack."

"No! Mom!" I had chased after her like a feral thing, clutching her sleeve in the mud. "What am I supposed to do if you leave me here? I don't have Ironspike blood in my veins! They'll tear me to shreds!"

But she had ruthlessly shaken me off.

Fresh off the high of her heat cycle, her eyes held nothing but a wild fanaticism for her new partner and an utter disdain for her old life.

Shoving herself into a cab, she threw out one last sentence, "Alpha Zander will take care of you. The Ironspike pack has plenty of money; supporting one extra member is nothing to them."

I lay paralyzed in the mud until a black umbrella shielded me from the downpour.

Zander slowly knelt down beside me.

His cold, dominant alpha aura enveloped me instantly like a heavy, protective blanket.

Lifting me up with his large, warm hand, his deep voice commanded strength, "Don't cry. I'll take care of you from now on."

That single promise sustained me for ten years.

I thought we would always have each other, until my eighteenth birthday arrived, and my wolf finally awakened.

After that chaotic awakening ceremony, I discovered a truth that shook my very soul—he was my fated mate.

I should have buried that secret forever.

But that night, fueled by his intoxication, my primal instincts overrode my sanity.

I crept into his bed, pressing my innocent, youthful body against his mature, burning physique.

I greedily inhaled the intoxicating blend of cedar and raw masculinity rolling off him—the irresistible pull shared between mates.

Completely possessed, I pressed my lips against his.

The next morning, he dragged me out of bed and threw me to the floor with enough force to shatter my ribs.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?!" His eyes were frozen over with ancient ice, and his alpha pressure flooded the room, suffocating me instantly.

"Years ago, your mother took advantage of my older brother's erratic heat cycle to crawl into his bed, forcing his hand to mark her. Now, you're trying to use the exact same cheap tricks to seduce me?"

His words cut through me like daggers, shredding whatever dignity I had left into ribbons.

"Uncle Zander... you're my mate... I can hear our wolves calling to each other..." I sobbed, my face turning deathly pale.

"Mate?" Zander snarled, a furious fire burning in his eyes that could reduce me to ashes. "Sabrina, that thought alone is an abomination! Are you and your mother determined to destroy both of us brothers, one after the other?"

He spat out the next words, drenched in absolute disgust, "You. Disgust. Me."

From that day on, the word mate became nothing but a cruel irony.

Perhaps as punishment for my mother's greed, the Moon Goddess had dealt me a hand of pure tragedy.

The Moon Goddess gave me a mate I could never mark, and a terminal sentence to finish me off.

A bone-chilling cold seeped deep into my core. I lost track of how long I wandered the streets until dusk fell and my phone lit up with a cold text message.

"The guests are already here. How much longer are you going to waste time?"

"Today, I picked out a special birthday present for myself—a burial plot..." I typed out the words, preparing to hit send, but after a second thought, I deleted it all.

Some things were better said in person.

Today was my twentieth birthday.

Zander had promised to throw a grand celebration for me today.

And I had originally planned to confess my feelings to him once again today.

If I didn't speak up today, I would never get the chance again.