Her Ninety-Ninth and Final Heartbreak

I died on the day I was appointed the pack's official "Emblem Designer."

Three hours after my death, my parents, my brother Connor, and my fated mate, Ryder, were throwing a promotion party for my younger sister, Elara.

Trapped in our family's clock tower, I used our mind-link, desperately pleading for help as I lay dying.

The only one who answered was my fated mate, Ryder. All he said was, "Seraphina, cut it out. Elara’s promotion party is important. Stop throwing a tantrum!"

It was the ninety-ninth time they had broken my heart. And the last.

I lay in a pool of my own blood as my heart hammered out its final beats.

They thought I was just throwing another tantrum, hiding somewhere to get attention. They thought if they just taught me a lesson, I would come crawling back.

But they didn't know. I was home the entire time.

I was already dead.

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1

My soul drifted back to my bedroom.

My door was thrown open. My brother, Connor, burst in, scoffing when he found the room empty.

"Aren't you a little too old for this disappearing act?"

Normally, I would have shot back a retort.

But this time, I just floated beside him, unable to make a sound.

Connor dialed my phone. No answer. The mind-link was silent, too.

He raked a hand through his hair in frustration, idly flipping through the notebook on my desk.

Inside, only one thing was scrawled in a corner: 99.

The number of times they had broken my heart.

Connor didn't understand. He frowned, tossed the notebook back onto the desk, and left a voicemail.

"Stop playing these stupid games. You were supposed to get party supplies for Elara’s promotion. Get back here and get it done!"

"This is her big day. Don't you dare ruin it. Come home within the hour, and maybe I'll forgive you."

Connor pocketed his phone and stalked back to the living room. "Seraphina isn't in her room, and she's not answering her phone or the mind-link," he announced to our parents.

"She's always like this—making a big deal out of nothing, storming off, and then waiting for us to beg her to come back."

"We've spoiled her," my father, Alaric, finally said. "No one contact her this time. Let her learn her lesson. She'll cool off and come crawling back tomorrow."

Elara glided over, tugging gently on our father's arm, a worried expression on her face.

"Dad, don't say that. What if something really happened to Seraphina? Maybe I should text her? You know she and I are close." She lowered her eyes, the very picture of a gentle, innocent fawn.

I watched her take out her phone, her slender fingers tapping on the screen. A text to me.

"Hope those rogue wolves gave you a night to remember. Whose bed did you crawl into? By the way, the party is amazing. Thanks for not being here. It’d be better if you were dead." After sending it, she deleted the message and typed a new one.

"Seraphina, are you okay? We're all so worried about you. If you're angry with us, take it out on me. Please, just come home." She held up the phone for everyone to see, perfectly playing the part of a caring, concerned sister.