Chapter 1

I jerked awake to the sound of Emma's whimpers. The digital clock on my nightstand glowed 2:17 AM, casting an eerie blue light across our bedroom. Michael's side of the bed was empty—again.

"Mommy..." Emma's voice drifted from down the hall, weak and trembling.

I rushed to her room, my heart hammering against my ribs. The moment I pushed open her door, the scent of sickness hit me—sharp and wrong. Emma lay tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, her small body convulsing with shivers despite the heat radiating from her skin.

"Baby, I'm here," I whispered, pressing my palm to her forehead. She was burning up, her temperature far beyond what any human child could survive. But Emma wasn't human—she was a werewolf child whose inner wolf was struggling to emerge.

"It hurts, Mommy," she whimpered, her eyes glassy with fever. "The wolf is scratching to get out."

Fear clawed at my throat. This wasn't a normal shift fever. Something was terribly wrong.

I scooped her into my arms, her little body burning against my chest, and ran through the silent pack house toward the infirmary. My wolf paced anxiously within me, her protective instincts in overdrive. *Where is Michael? His daughter needs him.*

Anya Sharma, our pack healer, was already pulling on latex gloves when I burst through the infirmary doors. One look at Emma and her normally calm expression tightened with concern.

"How long has she been like this?" she asked, taking Emma from my arms and placing her on an examination table.

"I just found her. But her fever's too high, even for a pre-shift," I said, watching as Anya checked Emma's vital signs with practiced efficiency.

"Her wolf is struggling," Anya confirmed, her voice dropping to a professional murmur. "This isn't a standard emergence. She needs Alpha Michael's presence—his aura could help stabilize her wolf's transition."

I nodded, immediately reaching for the mind-link that connected me to my mate.

*Michael, Emma is seriously ill. We're in the infirmary. She needs you NOW.*

I waited for his response, counting the seconds that stretched into minutes. Nothing.

*Michael! Your daughter's wolf is struggling to emerge. Anya says she needs your Alpha presence. Please come immediately!*

Still nothing. The silence in our bond felt deliberate, a wall erected between us.

Emma's condition deteriorated over the next hour. Anya worked tirelessly, administering medications to control the fever while I sent increasingly desperate mind-links to Michael.

"I need to start more aggressive treatment," Anya finally said, her dark eyes meeting mine with unspoken sympathy. "But I really need the Alpha's approval and presence. His aura would strengthen her."

"I'll find him," I promised, squeezing Emma's hand before rushing out.

I tracked Michael's scent to the pack's great hall, anger building with each step. When I pushed open the heavy wooden doors, the scene before me froze the blood in my veins.

Michael sat on one of the plush couches, his arm wrapped protectively around Amanda. Her perfectly made-up face was artfully streaked with tears, her head resting dramatically on my mate's shoulder. They looked up at my entrance, Michael's expression immediately hardening.

"Nina, this isn't a good time," he said, his tone dismissive. "Amanda just received some disturbing news about her ex-mate."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Your daughter is fighting for her life in the infirmary. Anya needs you there now."

Amanda sniffled, pressing closer to Michael. "I'm sorry about Emma, but Michael is the only one who understands what I'm going through right now."

"Emma needs her father," I insisted, my voice shaking with the effort to remain calm.

Michael's jaw tightened. "Anya is perfectly capable of handling a child's fever. I'll check on Emma when Amanda is feeling better."

I turned and left without another word, my wolf howling with rage and betrayal. I returned to the infirmary to find Anya had started Emma on intravenous medications. My daughter's tiny arms were bruised from multiple needle attempts, her face pale beneath the fever's flush.

Hours passed. I dozed fitfully in the chair beside Emma's bed, waking near dawn to find her cot empty. Panic surged through me until I spotted her small form curled on the floor in the corner, her hands covered in blood where she'd clawed at the tiles in her delirium.

As I gathered my trembling daughter into my arms, Anya entered the room. Our eyes met over Emma's head, and the healer's gaze held a mixture of professional concern and personal outrage.

"He never came," she said softly. It wasn't a question.

Something broke inside me then—the final thread of loyalty and hope I'd clung to for years. My wolf, long suppressed beneath the perfect Luna facade, surged forward with crystal clarity. This wasn't just neglect; it was betrayal of the deepest kind.

As I cradled my daughter's fevered body against my chest, I made my decision. By dawn, I would file for mate bond rejection, and Michael Sterling would learn exactly who he had chosen to abandon.