---- Chapter 4 JOSIE POV: Moments after | sent the message, my phone buzzed. It was a Mind-Link request from Chris, sent through a secure, encrypted channel he had set up for us. | accepted "Josie? By the Goddess, what happened to your hand? | can feel your pain through the link." His mental voice was a balm, filled with a genuine concern that | hadn't heard from my own mate in years. "Rosalie," | sent back, the single word carrying all the weight of the betrayal. "She put liquid silver in her tea." There was a moment of charged silence on his end. Then, a wave of cold, controlled fury pulsed through the link. "That venomous she-wolf. | should have dealt with her years ago." "It doesn't matter now," | replied, my own voice flat and emotionless in my head. "It only confirms I'm making the right choice." "There's something else you should know," Chris said, his tone turning serious. "That rare bloodline of yours... the White Wolf lineage. It's not just a title. It comes with an affinity for creation, for life. It's why you have such a gift for design. Rosalie knows this. She's not just jealous of you as a mate; ---- she's jealous of your power." "What do you mean?" "My informants tell me she hasn't been recuperating abroad for three years. She's been touring. She's visited the territories of every major unmated Alpha heir on the continent. She's been weighing her options, Josie. Laurence is just the one with the biggest territory and the most power. To her, he's not a mate. He's the prize stallion." The information hit me like a physical blow. All this time, Laurence had been obsessed, pining for a woman who was treating him like one of many potential suitors. The irony was so bitter it tasted like ash in my mouth. My pain, my suffering, my three years of servitude-all for a woman who was just keeping Laurence on the hook until she was sure he was her best option. "Thank you for telling me, Chris," | sent, my resolve solidifying into diamond. "I'll be sure to leave him a little going-away present with that information." When | returned to the command center, my hand wrapped in a white bandage, they were laughing. Laurence and Rosalie, heads close together over some report, sharing a private joke. Neither of them looked at me. My injury, my pain, was already forgotten. Rosalie did, however, find a moment to glide past my desk. "Such a shame," she whispered, her voice low enough that ---- only my werewolf hearing could catch it. "All that powerful White Wolf blood, and you can't even heal a simple burn. Your hands are tainted now. Unworthy of an Alpha." Her words were meant to be a sting, but they were a revelation. She knew. This wasn't just jealousy; it was a calculated attack. Laurence, seeing her speaking to me, misinterpreted the situation entirely. "Rosalie, you're too kind," he said aloud. "Don't waste your time comforting her. She needs to learn to be more careful." That evening, he came to my room. He held out a small, velvet box. Inside was a necklace, a single, luminous moonstone resting on a silver chain. "A gift," he said, his tone magnanimous. "For your newfound understanding. Wear it to the gala tomorrow. And you will accompany me." It wasn't a request. It was a command. He needed his prop by his side for the public event. The next day, the day of the Full Moon Gala, my world fell apart. A frantic Mind-Link came from the pack hospital. It was my father's primary healer. "Josie, we have a problem. Your father's condition has taken a turn for the worse. We need the final dose of Sun-Root herb to stabilize his bloodline, but the Alpha's private stores are locked. He promised to deliver it this morning." ---- Panic seized me. | immediately tried to Mind-Link Laurence. After several attempts, the link was accepted, but the voice that answered was not his. "He's busy," Rosalie's smug mental voice purred in my head. "We're picking out his tuxedo for tonight. He looks so handsome. Is there something you needed, Omega?" Before | could reply, she slammed the connection shut. | tried calling his phone. It went straight to voicemail. Finally, hours later, he sent a terse Mind-Link. "Stop bothering me. I'll see you at the gala tonight. Don't be late." He had forgotten. In his blissful bubble with Rosalie, he had completely forgotten his promise. He had forgotten about my dying father. And | knew, with a chilling certainty that settled deep in my bones, this was no accident. This was another one of Rosalie's deadly games.