Seraphina's POV

The weight of the snow felt like the cold, crushing hand of death, squeezing the last bit of oxygen from my lungs.

I was curled up in a tiny air pocket, my fingers trembling as I gripped my phone, praying for a signal.

If I was going to rot in this forest under the gaze of the Moon Goddess, I wanted to see Mortimer one last time.

I hit the button for a video call.

The dim glow of the screen was blinding in the suffocating darkness.

"Beep—"

The second it connected, my heart stopped.

But before I could even catch a glimpse of those familiar golden eyes, the screen went black.

He hung up.

The rejection hit me harder than the cold. It was like salt on an open wound, a pain that actually managed to outrun the fear of dying.

I didn't know where I found the strength, but ignoring the burning agony in my chest, I called again.

Declined. Again.

My heart sank into the same abyss as my body.

I held my breath and typed out a single line, "Mortimer, there was an avalanche. I'm buried under the forest."

I wasn't even expecting him to come back for me.

I was just placing one last bet on this pathetic ten-year crush—giving myself a reason to finally let go.

To my surprise, he replied instantly.

But every word on that screen felt like a poisoned blade.

"Seraphina, if you want me to come back, find a better excuse. This is a low blow, even for you."

"I'm staying with Vivi for a few more days of observation. When you're done playing games, come home. Stop acting out."

I stared at the words, the taste of copper in my mouth.

The burning heat of my early cycle was instantly snuffed out by pure, icy despair.

The cold seeped into my bones, sealing my wolf, Lily, away in a frozen vault.

I didn't feel the pain anymore. I didn't feel anything.

I stopped replying and let the darkness take me.

The distant howls of rogues and the muffled sounds of the world faded into nothing.

When I finally opened my eyes, everything was a blinding, clinical white. I smelled a mix of disinfectant and a crisp, woody scent.

"You're awake?"

I struggled to turn my stiff neck and met a pair of deep, gentle eyes.

"How are you feeling?" The man pushed up his silver-rimmed glasses. His voice was calm and clear, carrying a strange power that seemed to soothe my wolf. "I'm your healer, Caldwell."

"I..." My throat was shredded, raw as sandpaper.

"You've been out for five days," he said, holding a cup of water to my lips. "Surviving an avalanche like that... it means your wolf has a much stronger will than most. I'll be overseeing your recovery."

"Caldwell?" I repeated weakly.

"That's right." He gave me a professional but warm smile.

Even though I was completely drained, I managed to thank him.

I asked if he could help me get a new phone—I needed to tell my family back at the Silver Moon Pack that I was alive.

An hour later, the second I turned the new phone on, a flood of messages crashed into my inbox.

My parents, my pack mates, my colleagues at the center—everyone was frantic.

Except for my mate.

Mortimer's profile sat at the bottom of the list. Quiet. Empty. Not a single word.

I touched my chest.

There was a dull ache there, a hollow feeling, but that soul-shattering agony that made my wolf tremble? It was gone.

It had been replaced by a silence as flat as dead water.

I called home and told a lie—that I'd missed the avalanche because of a last-minute change in plans. I buried the truth of the disaster that had nearly buried me.

During my stay at the clinic, Caldwell took incredible care of me.

On the day I was discharged, he walked me to the car.

"Back to LA today?" he asked, holding the door. That clean pine scent of his drifted in the cold wind.

"Yeah. Vacation's over." I looked up at him and gave him my first real smile in weeks. "Caldwell, I'm actually a healer too. Maybe we can stay in touch—swap notes on some tough cases?"

His amber eyes flashed with surprise, and then a grin spread across his face. "Really? What are the odds? Maybe the Moon Goddess intended for us to meet. Safe travels, Seraphina."

I boarded the flight to LA. Seconds before they closed the cabin door, I checked social media one last time.

Vivian had posted.

"Guess who's watching the Northern Lights with me? Yep! My personal superhero!"

The photo showed the stunning green aurora stretching across the sky in Sweden.

Underneath, two figures were leaning into each other.

The tall man was only showing his profile, but I knew that jawline, those fingers, and that Alpha scent that used to sting my senses even through a screen.My mate.

I stared at Mortimer's silhouette.

In the back of my mind, Lily let out a low, final whimper of defeat.

I clicked on Mortimer's profile. With one tap, I unpinned his chat.

Mortimer's POV

The Swedish aurora writhed across the sky like a fever dream. Those eerie green lights felt like cold snakes, strangling the breath right out of me. I stood on the balcony, my thumb mindlessly rubbing the edge of my phone.

"You're on edge, Mortimer." Deep in my head, my wolf—Barton—let out a jagged growl. The vibration made my skull ache.

"I'm just thinking about the pack," I shot back.

A moment later, I reached back into the mind-link. "But... fine. Tell me how our mate is doing."

Barton paced restlessly in my mind, claws digging into the void. "I've got nothing. That temporary mark you gave her a year ago? It's gone. Faded to nothing."

His words hit me like a physical blow. It was true. Ever since Alaska, the bond between Seraphina and me had gone stone cold.

She used to be a chronic over-sharer. She'd send me photos of anything—even a weirdly shaped leaf she found on the sidewalk. I usually blew her off. In our world, catching feelings is a death sentence. But now, her chat window was a ghost town.

Was she playing games? Some pathetic attempt at a protest? All because I'd ditched her to save Vivian?

The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Morty? You there? Come take a picture of me!" Vivian ran over, camera in hand, wearing that innocent little pout. Her eyes flicked toward my phone, and for a split second, I saw a flash of ice in her gaze. It was gone before I could blink. When I looked again, there was nothing but concern.

Maybe I was just seeing things.

"Morty, are you worried about Seraphina?" Vivian tilted her head. "It's all my fault... If I hadn't made you come back that day, she wouldn't be this mad. Maybe you should just... I don't know, apologize?"

Apologize?

I let out a dry, sharp laugh. I was the Alpha of the strongest pack in North America. "Apology" wasn't in my vocabulary. I hated being guilt-tripped, and I hated showing weakness—especially to my mate.

"If she's going to act like a brat over a life-or-death situation, then she's clearly not ready to be a Luna," I said, shoving my phone into my pocket. "Go stand over there. I'll take the shot."

Vivian gave the lens a dazzling smile, but I wasn't even looking at the frame. I told myself she'd only lied about the kidnapping because her wolf was weak and she was spiraling.

She didn't mean any harm. I was just here to keep her calm. My conscience was clear.

So why was Barton howling like his world was ending?

Back at the hotel, a crushing sense of loss started to hollow me out—the kind of grief you only feel when a mate is truly gone. I stared at Seraphina's profile picture. She was in her healer's uniform, looking soft and kind.

"Find her," I ordered.

"I can't!" Barton wailed, curling into a ball. "The bond is dead air. Just static. You idiot—you never should've left her."

"I was saving a life," I hissed.

But the regret was already set in. If I'd just finished the marking ceremony under that blood moon, I'd be able to feel her heart beating right now. Then, the memory of our goodbye flashed back: Seraphina standing in the snow, her face flushed deep red, her eyes glassy.

Damn it. I thought she was just freezing. Now I realized—that was the start of her heat.

Whatever. She'd always been the one chasing me. Maybe I'd throw her a bone and break the silence first. Call it an "alpha's mercy."

I opened the chat, my thumb hovering over the screen. I'd faced down the most bloodthirsty rogues without flinching, yet here I was, actually nervous. It was irritating as hell.

Finally, I sent something short. "See the blood moon yet? Why no photos?"

The ding of the sent message felt like a gunshot in the quiet room.

One minute. Five. Ten. The screen stayed black.

Hours crawled by. My phone was basically an expensive paperweight. The rejection turned into a slow-boil rage in my blood. I slammed the phone onto the nightstand and headed for the shower. I let the ice-cold water hit me, trying to drown out the panic clawing at my chest.

Ten minutes later, I stepped out with a towel around my waist. The screen flickered.

My heart stopped. I didn't even bother grabbing a towel for my hair; I just lunged for the bed. I could feel the corner of my mouth twitching into a smile.

Then I saw the screen, and the smile died.

The chat was still empty. Seraphina hadn't said a word. The notification was just Vivian tagging me in some I*******m post.

I tossed the phone aside, feeling like I'd swallowed a handful of barbed wire.

"Seraphina," I muttered to the empty room. "You've really got some nerve."

Seraphina's POV

I flipped my phone to airplane mode. The moment the screen went black, it felt like I'd finally severed a dead nerve. I closed my eyes, trying to find some peace in the hum of the jet engines.

But the second I drifted off, the nightmare found me.

It was pitch black. Freezing. Fear swallowed me whole, like a demon dragging me into a bottomless pit.

"Mortimer… help me…"

I screamed in my sleep, but there was no answer. Lily, my wolf, was curled up in the darkest corner of my mind, letting out one broken whimper after another. My fingers dug into the armrests, nails sinking into the leather. "Please… save me…"

Through the haze, I felt someone grabbing my hand, trying to pull me out of the abyss.

"Are you okay? Ma'am? Hey, wake up."

The voice was soft but urgent. I snapped my eyes open, gasping for air. My chest ached from hyperventilating. I turned to my side. A girl with round glasses—probably a college student—was staring at me, her face pale and trembling.

I realized then that my aura had spiraled out of control, leaking into the cabin. For a human, the raw grief of a high-blooded werewolf felt like a psychic tidal wave.

I took a shaky breath, forcing Lily to settle down and pulling my jagged scent back inside. The heavy pressure in the air finally lifted.

"Sorry," I said, taking the tissue she offered. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. "I… I didn't mean to scare you."

The girl wiped sweat from her forehead, still looking shaken. "You were having a massive panic attack. It felt like… like a storm was coming. You kept whispering for help. You sounded heartbroken."

Heartbroken? My heart had frozen solid in that snowbank, right along with the video calls he'd cut off.

"Yeah," I muttered. "Surviving an avalanche like that is the kind of life experience you only need once."

The girl's mouth dropped open. "Oh my god… You mean that Alaska avalanche? The one that's been all over the news?"

I closed my eyes. The news talked about the snow, but they didn't mention how an Alpha had left his mate to die.

When the oxygen had run out, the thing that kept me conscious wasn't the fear of death. It was the memory of Mortimer's last message—the one dripping with disgust. For three years, I'd been naive enough to think that if I just did my duty as a Luna, the mating bond would eventually make him care.

But reality had slapped me hard. When a man doesn't love you, he'll believe your dying breath is just another "clumsy lie" for attention.

A total stranger could feel my pain. But my own mate? He'd just cut the connection.

I patted the girl's hand. "It's okay. I made it. I guess the Moon Goddess decided it wasn't my time yet."

When the long flight finally ended, I turned my phone back on.

A message popped up.

"See the blood moon yet? Why no photos?"

I stared at Mortimer's name. He'd sent it hours ago, right when I was boarding. I never expected him to reach out first. In our three years of being mated, our chat history was a joke. Aside from cold pack business, he never started a conversation. Even when I'd swallow my pride and share bits of my life to spark some kind of connection, he'd meet me with dead silence.

He always left me on read. He thought silence was the best way to "teach me a lesson" about my "neediness."

I stared at the screen for a long time. Part of me wanted to ignore him, to give him a taste of his own medicine. But our agreement only had two months left. I typed back, "The blood moon was beautiful. So beautiful I forgot to take pictures."

Knowing his ego, I figured he was done. But then my phone buzzed with an aggressive, immediate vibration.

An instant reply. That never happened.

But as I read the words, the last spark of feeling in my chest died out.

"Vivian's wolf is flaring up. She almost killed herself. Seraphina, as my Luna, do you have any basic compassion? You've been gone for days without even checking on her. You're becoming a stranger to me with this cold-blooded act."

Every word was a jagged whip. I could almost see his golden eyes narrowed in disgust.

I calmly typed one word back, "Sorry."

No explanation. No defense.

I locked the screen. That "sorry" wasn't for him. It was for the girl I used to be—the one who'd spent three years trying to make him love her.

I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of the airport without looking back.