I Left After My Mate Chose My Sister

The morning sun filtered through the infirmary windows, casting long shadows across the stone floor. I sat on the edge of the examination table, my fingers nervously twisting the thin cloth of my dress. The Head Healer's face was grave as he studied the scroll in his hands, his eyes darting between the parchment and the strange device he'd used to measure my aura.

"Tessa Meyer," he said finally, his voice carrying the weight of decades of practice. "I've completed your pre-mating examination."

Something in his tone made my heart stutter. I'd expected the usual clearance, the standard blessing before tomorrow's ceremony with Max. Instead, I saw the deep furrows of concern etched into his weathered face.

"What's wrong?" I asked, though part of me already knew I didn't want the answer.

He set the scroll down carefully, as if it contained something fragile and dangerous. "Your aura readings indicate a condition we call Wolfsbane Rot."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating.

"Wolfsbane Rot?" I repeated, the name tasting bitter on my tongue. "What does that mean?"

"It's a degeneration of the wolf spirit." His eyes held genuine regret. "Your wolf is dying, Tessa. And when she goes, she'll take your human form with her."

My breath caught. "Is there a cure?"

He shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry. You have weeks, perhaps months at most."

The room seemed to tilt around me. Tomorrow, I was supposed to mate with Max, become Luna of the Blood River Pack. We were going to have pups and build a life together. Now, I was being told I was dying.

I stumbled out of the infirmary clutching the diagnostic scroll, my legs barely supporting me. The bright morning light felt like a mockery of the darkness spreading inside me.

---

I needed Max. Needed his strength, his reassurance that somehow this would all work out. Even if I couldn't tell him yet about my diagnosis, just being near him would help me find the courage to face whatever came next.

His private Alpha quarters were in the east wing of the Pack House. I'd only been there a handful of times—it was sacred space, reserved for the Alpha and his closest advisors. But today, I didn't care about protocol.

The heavy oak door was slightly ajar. Strange. Max usually locked it when he was inside.

"Max?" I called softly, pushing the door open wider.

The sight before me froze my blood.

Max stood by his desk, his powerful arms wrapped around a woman's waist. My sister's waist.

"—can't explain it, Sasha," he was saying, his voice low and intimate. "The bond with Tessa feels like a duty, but you..." He buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply. "You're the one I choose."

Sasha's eyes were closed, her face tilted upward in ecstasy. "I've always been yours, Max. Since before the Moon Goddess interfered."

"But tomorrow's the ceremony," he murmured against her skin.

"It doesn't matter," she whispered back. "We have history. Real history. Not some mystical bond that just snapped into place."

I backed away silently, my hand pressed against my mouth to stifle any sound. The diagnostic scroll crumpled in my fist.

"My fragile flower," Max said, his voice carrying the tenderness I'd always dreamed of hearing. "I need to protect you, always."

---

I made it halfway down the hallway before my stomach revolted. I collapsed against the wall, vomiting until there was nothing left but bitter bile.

Dying. Betrayed. All in one morning.

I somehow made it back to my room, locking the door behind me. My hands shook as I pulled out a small travel bag from beneath my bed.

Wolfsbane Rot. A death sentence with no appeal.

And Max—my fated mate, my Alpha, my everything—loved my sister.

I packed mechanically: a change of clothes, what little money I had saved, a small knife for protection. Then I sat at the small desk and pulled out a piece of paper.

*Max,* I wrote, my handwriting unusually steady. *I can't be your Luna. Please don't look for me.*

No explanation. No accusation. No formal rejection that would weaken his Alpha status. Just... goodbye.

I sealed the note and tucked it into my bag. Then I remembered—the scent-masking potion in the pack stores. Hunters used it to mask their trails from prey. It would work just as well for me.

The storage room was empty this time of morning. I slipped inside, found the small vial labeled "Forest Mist," and dropped it into my pocket.

One last look at the room that had been my home for the past month. Tomorrow, Max would wake up and find me gone. He would think I'd abandoned him—the coward's way out.

But the truth was far worse: I was sparing him the pain of watching his mate waste away before his eyes. And I was sparing myself the agony of seeing him with her every day.

I took one deep breath, squared my shoulders, and prepared to disappear.