"There is a way," I said, biting my lip, my eyes determined.

"What way?" Scott stared intently at me.

"Soul-Devouring Sorcery needs to be purified. Only a mate blessed by the Moon Goddess, by offering their 'Life Source,' can do it," I said calmly, though my heart was racing.

"How do you know this?" Scott's eyes narrowed, full of suspicion.

"The Shaman told me," I lied. In reality, I had witnessed Joanna suffering the backlash of the sorcery in my past life.

"Let's go." Scott grabbed my wrist without another word, his grip strong enough to nearly crush my bones.

We raced through the forest to the pack Shaman's wooden cabin. In the dim candlelight, the Old Shaman was grinding some herbs.

"Shaman, is this true?" Scott got straight to the point. "Can a human's Life Source undo Soul-Devouring Sorcery?"

The Old Shaman looked up, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, then looked at me, his expression complex. "Yes, Alpha. But..."

"But what?"

"For a human, extracting their Life Source is almost fatal," the Shaman sighed. "She will most likely die."

Scott's hand abruptly let go of me. He turned, his back to me, shoulders tense. "No."

"I'm willing," I stepped forward, my voice firm.

Scott whirled around, his eyes full of shock and anger. "Are you crazy? What does this have to do with you?"

"This is what I owe Joanna," I looked him straight in the eye. "And what I owe you."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. The internal struggle was almost written on his face.

"Prepare the ritual, Shaman," I said, not giving Scott a chance to object.

The Old Shaman sighed and rose to prepare. "Alpha, the ritual will be very painful. Are you sure you want to be present?"

Scott didn't answer, but his eyes told me—he wouldn't leave.

An hour later, the ritual site was ready. The Shaman had drawn complex runes on the ground, surrounded by seven lit black candles. Joanna was brought in, her condition shocking—her skin was as pale as paper, her eyes completely black, with black bloodstains around her lips.

"Let's begin," the Shaman motioned for me to lie in the center of the runes.

Just then, Scott suddenly took off his leather jacket and covered my eyes with it.

"Don't look." His voice was surprisingly gentle. "It's going to hurt a lot."

In the darkness, I felt his presence near. "I'll make it up to you... no matter what."

The ritual began.

Agony, like a thousand knives stabbing my body simultaneously, coursed through me. I heard my own screams, felt my body being torn apart from the inside. Blood flowed from my nose, ears, and eyes.

In a daze, I thought I saw a golden light surge from my chest and fly towards Joanna. Her agonized roars merged with my screams.

Then... everything went dark.

After some unknown time, I awoke to the beeping of a heart monitor.

"You're awake."

I turned my head and saw Scott sitting by my bedside. He looked haggard, his eyes bloodshot.

"Joanna..." I managed hoarsely.

"She's fine now," Scott replied softly. "Thanks to you."

I closed my eyes, feeling the weakness throughout my body. I could sense my life force had been greatly diminished; this was the price of offering my Life Source.

"Why did you do it?" he asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and some emotion I couldn't decipher.

"This way, you don't owe me anything," I smiled. "You can be with Joanna with a clear conscience."

Scott frowned. "The Shaman said you'll need at least three months to fully recover. I was thinking... maybe I could take you to Seattle. They have the best human hospitals there. As... compensation."

His offer pained my heart. Still the same pattern—guilt, not love.

"No need, Scott," I said softly. "I plan to leave this place."

"What?" He shot up from his seat.

"There are no more debts between us." I looked him straight in the eye. "I wish you and Joanna happiness."

Scott opened his mouth to say something, but his phone suddenly rang. He glanced at it, and his face changed. "It's Joanna... she's awake..."

"Go on," I said, looking away.

He hesitated for a moment, then finally left.

After the door closed, I struggled to get up and change my clothes. The Shaman had already prepared everything for me—forged discharge papers, enough medication, and tonight's bus ticket.

I left a letter for the Shaman to give to Scott:

"By the time you read this, I'll be gone. Don't try to find me; this is my choice. I've fulfilled my mission. Be happy, Alpha."

At 7 PM, I quietly slipped out of the pack's medical center.

At 10 PM, when Scott stormed into my hospital room, only to find the empty bed, the Shaman handed him my letter.

And just at midnight, breaking news spread throughout the pack lands—a long-distance bus leaving town had lost control on a mountain road, crashed off a cliff, and burst into flames. On the passenger list, clear as day, was the name "Elena Miller."

Due to the intensity of the fire, the bodies were severely burned and unrecognizable.