The Silent Mate The Alpha Left to Die

My mother was in the hospital after a nasty dog bite, so I called my fiancé, Cohen. He was supposed to be my rock.

Instead, I got annoyance. He was in Aspen, on a ski trip with my best friend, Hillary.

"What do you want me to do? Fly back right now?" he snapped, before hanging up to get back to the "perfect snow."

The dog, it turned out, was Hillary's. The bite on my diabetic mother's leg quickly developed into a raging infection. I texted Cohen an update, telling him she was getting worse, that they were talking about surgery.

He didn't call back. Instead, Hillary's Instagram story updated: a photo of her and Cohen, cheeks flushed from the cold, smiling in front of a fireplace. The caption was a single heart emoji.

While they were sipping hot chocolate, my mother went into septic shock. As I sat alone in the grim hospital waiting room, staring at my silent phone, I knew he had already made his choice. He had chosen a vacation. He had chosen my best friend. He had left my mother to die all alone.

She passed away at 3:17 AM. I held her hand until it grew cold, then walked out into the gray dawn. I wasn't just grieving. I was done. I was going to erase myself from his world and burn everything to the ground.

Chapter 1

JAYCEE POV:

The scent of lemon polish and old wood filled my mother's small kitchen. It was the smell of my childhood, of safety. I was scrubbing the countertops, trying to erase the last few days of hospital grime from my memory, when the phone buzzed against the granite.

The hospital's number flashed on the screen. My heart hammered against my ribs.

"This is Jaycee Miller," I answered, my voice tight.

"Ms. Miller," a tired voice said on the other end. "Your mother's condition has worsened. She was attacked by a large canine..."

The world tilted. I stumbled back, my hand hitting the wall for support. Before the nurse could finish, I was already dialing another number. His number.

It rang twice before he picked up. "Jaycee? I'm in a meeting."

Cohen's voice was a deep, rumbling sound that usually calmed the frantic fluttering in my chest. But today, it was strained, like he was caught between two worlds. In the background, I heard a sharp, high-pitched laugh that I knew all too well. Hillary's laugh, like a shard of glass.

"Cohen, it's Mom," I choked out, words tumbling over each other. "The hospital called. She was attacked by a dog, a big one. She's not doing well."

"Calm down," he said, and I felt the sharp edge of an *Alpha's Command* in his tone, a desperate plea for control disguised as authority. "Breathe. I'm in the middle of the summit in Aspen. This is important."

"Hillary is there with you," I stated, the name leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "I heard her."

There was a pause. "Hillary is here as the representative for the Granite Peak Pack. This merger is critical for the future of Blackwood, Jaycee. You know that."

"My mother is dying, Cohen!" The words tore from my throat, raw and ragged.

His sigh was heavy with frustration. "Do you want me to abandon the future of two packs for one human?"

The question hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. One human. My mother.

"I have to go," he said, his voice already shifting back to the smooth, commanding tone of an Alpha. "Hillary is about to start her presentation. I'll have my Beta check in with you."

The line went dead.

I stood frozen in the kitchen, the silence screaming around me. He had chosen them. He had chosen her.

At the hospital, a grim-faced doctor led me into a small, sterile office.

"The bite marks are... extensive," he said, avoiding my eyes. "We ran the saliva samples. The animal is registered. It's a War Wolf, owned by a Ms. Hillary Peterson."

My blood ran cold.

"War Wolves have a specific toxin in their saliva," the doctor continued, his voice low. "It prevents clotting and causes rapid infection in humans. We need to know if the animal's aggression inhibitors were up to date."

I could only nod, my mind a whirlwind of static.

In the ICU, my mother looked small and frail against the stark white sheets. A web of tubes and wires connected her to beeping machines. Her eyes fluttered open as I took her hand.

"My fault," she whispered, her voice a dry rasp. "I must have startled him... such a beautiful wolf..."

She was still trying to protect me. Still trying to smooth things over so I wouldn't have any trouble with my powerful mate.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from Cohen. I opened it, a desperate, foolish part of me hoping for an apology, for comfort.

Instead, I read a command.

*Don't go near Hillary. I'll handle this.*

He wasn't protecting me. He was protecting her. And in that moment, I knew my mother wasn't just a victim of an accident. She was collateral damage.