Arya’s POV

As desperation engulfed me, I scoured my mind for any way to reach Godrick and suddenly remembered seeing Deserie’s Instagram account. I found it and saw she’d just posted a video—she was at the River Ash Pack infirmary, with Godrick by her side.

My blood boiled and Alina growled in fury at the sight, but I didn’t have time for anger. I transformed into my wolf form and rushed like a mad she-wolf to the River Ash Pack, my mind racing against time. After three excruciating hours, I arrived. The guards blocked me at first, but after hearing my reason, they finally let me in.

When I finally found them, they were sitting on a bench, Deserie leaning comfortably on Godrick’s shoulder.

‘I knew it! This bitch is really something,’ Alina sharply spat.

“Godrick, my daughter will be okay, right?” she worriedly asked, her voice sounding so sweet.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a burn. I know she can make it through,” he reassured confidently.

‘Look at those two, too engrossed in each other to even catch a whiff of our scent and realize that we’re here. Tch!’ Alina grumbled disdainfully.

“Godrick!” I roared, my voice laced with fury and desperation.

They jumped, startled by my presence. Deserie straightened up, feigning innocence.

“Arya, what are you doing here? And how did you get in here?” Godrick coldly asked with a hint of surprise in his tone and his eyes narrowing.

I didn’t have much time to waste, so I reached out to him. “That doesn’t matter. Charlotte’s been shot! She’s dying, Godrick. Only you can save her.”

Unexpectedly, he shook off my hand, his expression hardening. “Arya, aren’t you done yet with this kind of bullshit? You keep following me wherever I go, thinking Deserie and I are doing something wrong. Just so you know, I’m here to treat her daughter.”

“And how about our daughter? Godrick, please,” I sobbed, my voice cracking. “Our daughter needs you. She’s been shot with a wolfsbane-laced bullet. She won’t survive without you.”

Just then, Deserie interjected pitifully, “I understand that you’re jealous, Arya, but my daughter needs Godrick too.”

I no longer know what to say to convince him and my tears were continuously trickling down my cheeks. I pitifully looked at my mate. “Godrick, you’re not choosing to save someone else’s daughter over your own, right?”

However, he glared at me, his voice dripping with contempt. “Arya, Deserie’s daughter had severe burns, that’s why I’m here. Stop following me and saying terrible things about our daughter. You’re becoming more despicable and vicious day by day.”

“Please, Godrick, if you don’t believe me, just come and see Charlotte,” I pleaded, almost kneeling.

Once again, Deserie interrupted. “Arya, I know you can’t stand seeing us together, but my daughter needs him. Please put aside your jealousy even just for now.”

‘Even just for now? She always steals the time he should be spending with us!’ Alina groused.

Having had enough of her, I snapped. My hand flew before I could think, slapping Deserie across the face. “Shut up!”

“Arya, how dare you hit Deserie!” Godrick fumingly exclaimed, his eyes turning red with fury.

He then raised his hand to strike me back, but Deserie stopped him, her voice calm and manipulative. “Godrick, just ignore her. You need to be in the infirmary anytime now.”

Godrick took a deep breath with closed eyes and nodded.

“Right, I’ll go there now,” he said coldly, starting to walk off.

“No!” I cried, rushing after him, but Deserie held me back.

“Let me go!” I growled at Deserie but my tired body couldn’t get to push her aside.

“Godrick, please! Come back with me! Charlotte needs you!” I screamed, but he didn’t even look back.

As he disappeared from sight, my legs gave way. I collapsed, grief-stricken, my world falling apart. My daughter was dying, and the one man who could save her had chosen someone else. Darkness closed in, and the last thing I remembered was the taste of my own tears as I fainted, consumed by despair.

Arya’s POV

When I woke up, an unfamiliar scent filled my nostrils. Seeing the dim lighting and pure white paint in my surroundings, I realized I was in an infirmary. Despite my aching limbs, I forced myself to sit up and walk toward the door. As I stepped out of my room, I spotted Godrick in the room across from mine.

“Mr. Raven, thank you for treating me,” came the soft voice of Johanna, Deserie’s daughter, lying on the bed with fragile innocence.

“Johanna, from now on, call Mr. Raven ‘Uncle,’“ Deserie cooed, her voice sickly sweet, a smile plastered on her face.

“Okay. Thank you again, Uncle,” Johanna replied, her voice dripping with gratitude.

Godrick leaned down, brushing Johanna’s forehead with a tenderness that twisted the knife deeper into my chest. “Alright, be good. Take good care of yourself.”

The sight of him doting on another’s child while our own lay fighting for her life filled me with a bitter envy that made my blood boil. I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms.

‘Saving other’s child first. Is he really our mate? He didn’t catch a whiff of our scent again. I wonder if his nose is still fine,’ I seethed inwardly.

‘Indeed. How I wish he wasn’t our mate,’ Alina, my wolf, echoed flatly, her voice laced with disappointment.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I needed him to come back to our daughter. Stepping into the room, I let the tension between us thicken.

“Her daughter’s treatment is done. Can you go back with me now?” My voice was strained, barely masking the desperation behind it.

But Deserie wasn’t done. She latched onto Godrick’s arm, her eyes wide with false concern. “Godrick, please stay for a few more days. If my daughter has any complications, I’ll feel at ease knowing you’re here.”

Just then, a nurse nearby heard her and interjected, “Don’t worry, there won’t be any complications.”

Then, in a low voice, she added, “After all, it’s just a severe burn. Even our own pack healers could have handled it. I don’t even get why you insist on bringing in a healer from another pack.”

Both Alina and I agreed with the nurse, igniting our anger once more.

“Godrick, you’ve done enough here. Why are you still waiting? Are you planning to wait until our daughter dies before you regret it?” My voice quivered with rage, a barely contained snarl.

Deserie, ever the thorn in my side, spat back with venom, “You’re really something, Arya. I’ve never seen a mother like you. You dare say your daughter is dying out of petty jealousy?”

I wanted to rip her throat out, to see her blood spill for those words, but Godrick’s cold voice cut through the tension. “This is an infirmary. Keep your voice down. Go back first; I’ll return in a few days.”

Just then, my daughter’s attending healer called.

“Ms. Elsher, please come to the infirmary to see your daughter one last time.”

Panic clawed at my insides. I put the call on speaker, letting Godrick hear the gravity of the situation, hoping against hope that it would snap him out of this stupor. But Deserie was quick to twist the knife deeper.

“Wow, she even hires actors now,” she sneered.

And like a puppet on a string, Godrick turned on me, his fangs bared. “Enough with the theatrics, Arya. Get out. I don’t want to see you.”

His words hit like a physical blow, knocking the breath out of me. My claws extended, digging into my palms as I fought back tears.

‘Arya, forget them. Charlotte needs you now,’ Alina urged, her voice a lifeline in the storm.

‘You’re right,’ I agreed and nodded.

“Fine. If our daughter dies, remember this moment. You’ll have only yourself to blame.”

As such, I rushed out of the infirmary and ran back to our pack, directly going to where my daughter was.

However, when I arrived, it was too late. My daughter was now in the morgue, lying on a slab, her body cold, her life snuffed out too soon.

Alina howled in agony as I cradled Charlotte’s lifeless form, my tears falling freely. It felt like my soul was being ripped apart, piece by piece.

Godrick hadn’t been back, so I was forced to take care of our daughter’s funeral alone. It was a blur, a nightmare from which I couldn’t wake.

Holding her urn, the reality of her loss crushed me. Charlotte was a star in their pack’s final combat training, her future so bright. She was meant to be a warrior, a beacon of hope for our pack. But now, she was gone, her light extinguished.

I locked myself in her room, her scent lingering in the air. I touched her belongings, each one a painful reminder of what I’d lost.

Third Person POV

While Arya drowned in sorrow, far away, another woman reveled in her victory.

“You did a great job. I’ll send your payment soon. Until our next transaction,” the woman said, her smile twisting into a cruel grin.

Turning to the child beside her, she whispered with sick delight, “Now that their daughter is dead, there’s nothing binding them. He’ll reject her, cast her aside like trash. And then, I’ll take my rightful place as his chosen mate. We’ll be a happy family.”

Her laughter rang out, sharp and sinister, echoing through the room like a death knell.

Arya’s POV

After what felt like an eternity of silence, the familiar but now distant voice of Godrick echoed through our mind link.

‘Arya, Luna is holding a congratulatory party for Charlotte. Arrive early tomorrow,’ he coldly instructed.

My heart clenched, the bitterness rising like bile in my throat. ‘What’s the point of that party when the one we’re celebrating is no longer with us?’ I thought, my voice void of any emotion.

‘You can take this chance to tell Luna everything,’ Alina, my wolf, suggested, her anger barely restrained.

Churning with anger, I hugged my daughter’s urn tightly and said through gritted teeth, “Okay.”

Godrick and I met one hot summer. I’d collapsed from overfatigue and heatstroke on the road, and he, then an aspiring healer, had found me. He’d saved my life that day, and that was when we discovered that we were mates.

We seemed perfect for each other back then—our interests aligned, our conversations endless. Two years later, we decided to settle down, and Godrick, now a fully-fledged head healer, became engrossed in his work. I took on the role of managing our household, ensuring that he never had to worry about anything but his patients.

One day, I stumbled upon an old photograph in his wallet—an intimate snapshot of him and another woman.

“Godrick, who’s this girl?” I asked, my heart pounding.

He hesitated, his expression conflicted before he finally admitted, “My first love.”

He watched me, waiting for a reaction.

But I smiled, swallowing the unease that threatened to surface. “Oh, is that so? Don’t worry, I’m not upset. Everyone has someone special from their past.”

He seemed relieved, even touched by my response. And when we had our daughter, Charlotte, he even tore up the photo in front of me, promising me that I was the only one who mattered. For a time, we were happy, our little family thriving—until Deserie’s rich mate died three years ago.

That was when everything changed.

Godrick began spending more and more time with Deserie, under the guise of helping her through her grief. He supported her in every way, giving her time that once belonged to us. “Time is life,” he often said, but it was Deserie who now consumed his life.

He lied about business trips and emergency surgeries, all excuses to be with her. Late-night calls, supposedly urgent, were nothing more than her nightmares, pulling him away from our bed and into hers.

Even on Charlotte’s birthday, when we waited for him to take us to the park, he never showed up. When I connected to him through a mind link, he said he was at the infirmary for an emergency and told us to go without him.

But days later, when I checked his phone, I found the truth. He had been with Deserie.

Deserie: [Look, Godrick, I accidentally cut my finger while reminiscing about our time together.]

Her message, complete with a photo of a minor cut, was nothing but a ploy. By the time Godrick arrived, her wound would’ve already healed. But what stung the most was that he still left us on our daughter’s birthday for her.

That was the final straw.

The day of the congratulatory party arrived. I clutched Charlotte’s urn close as I walked into the hall, where over twenty tables were set up. The pack was already gathered, their voices a dull roar in the background as they showered Godrick with praise.

“Godrick, you’re so lucky to have such a promising daughter. She did well in their final combat training. I’m sure she’ll be one of the great warriors soon,” a pack member lauded.

“Well, it’s all in the genes. Godrick was also excellent in his time. It’s no surprise his daughter would follow suit,” another chimed in.

“Will Charlotte pursue being a warrior, or does she want to be a hunter?” asked Caleb, Godrick’s cousin.

“It’s her choice. She’s welcome in both groups, so she can choose whichever she prefers,” Godrick responded, his voice brimming with pride.

Finally, after being basked in all of their praises, Godrick caught my scent and turned to me. But instead of welcoming me with warmth, he faced me with anger.

“Why are you only here now? Didn’t I tell you to come early?” he snapped. “Where’s our daughter?”

Before I could answer, the scent of the most unwelcome guests at this so-called party reached my nose—Deserie and her daughter.

“You’ve got some nerve, Godrick. You even brought them here to your daughter’s party,” I growled, the anger bubbling just beneath my skin.

“Arya, don’t be petty. They’re here to congratulate her. You wouldn’t embarrass me by causing a scene, would you?” Godrick snarled, his patience thin.

Just then, Luna Ethel, Godrick’s mother and the Luna of our pack, approached, her face lined with concern. “Arya, why didn’t my precious granddaughter come with you?”

All eyes turned to me, the room growing tense with curiosity.

“Arya, stop this nonsense. Bring Charlotte here now,” Godrick demanded, his tone sharp.

“I already did,” I replied, my voice flat, emotionless.

“What are you talking about? I don’t smell her scent anywhere,” he retorted, looking around.

Slowly, I reached into my bag and pulled out the urn, placing it on the table with deliberate care.

“Here,” I said.

The once jubilant room fell into a stunned hush, every eye locked on the urn. The shock and disbelief were palpable, the air thick with unspoken accusations.