The Savior He Rejected For Her Evil Sister

For years, I was nothing but a biological spare part for my sister, Isabella. My bone marrow kept her vibrant while I withered in the attic.

I thought my mate, Alpha Dante, would eventually see me. I was the one who saved him from the blizzard years ago, not her.

But when a neon sign crashed down outside the jazz club, Dante didn't look at me.

He tackled Isabella, shielding her pristine body, while I was crushed beneath burning silver-plated metal.

I woke up in agony, only to find Isabella accusing me of trying to kill her.

Dante didn't smell the lies. He only saw his "traumatized" fiancée.

"Fifty lashes," he ordered, his eyes cold. "Use the Wolfsbane whip."

I hung from the dungeon ceiling, the poison searing my bones, watching the man I loved cover Isabella's eyes to spare her the sight of my blood.

The final straw came during a car crash days later. Trapped and bleeding internally, I begged for his help.

He looked at the fire licking my legs, then at Isabella's scratched arm. He picked her up and walked away, leaving me to burn.

That night, the bond in my heart died.

I didn't beg anymore. I left a single cassette tape on his desk-the recording of me singing to him in that blizzard-and vanished.

By the time he realized he had tortured his true savior, I was already gone.

Chapter 1

Seraphina POV:

The pain hit first. Not the dull throb of a bruise, but a deep, drilling agony inside my marrow. It was a phantom sensation, a somatic flashback to the needle that had pierced my hip repeatedly over the years, extracting the essence that kept my sister, Isabella, vibrant while I withered.

I gasped, shooting up in the darkness. My hand flew to my chest, clutching the thin, sweat-drenched cotton of my nightgown.

Peeling wallpaper. Drafty window. The narrow cot that smelled of mildew.

I wasn't dead on the operating table. I was back in the attic of the Vitiello estate.

I glanced at the calendar. Present day. The red circle around tomorrow's date loomed like a threat: Isabella & Dante's Engagement.

The door creaked open.

Giovanni Vitiello, the Alpha of our declining house, stepped inside. He didn't look at my face. He scanned me with the cold utility of a mechanic checking a failing engine.

"You're awake," he grunted.

He tossed an envelope onto the foot of my bed.

"Ticket to London," he said. "One way. You leave tonight."

I stared at the envelope. Years ago, I would have begged. I would have promised to be invisible just to stay near Dante.

"Isabella and Dante's Mating Ceremony is coming up," he continued, a sneer curling his lip. "We can't have a Wolfless runt shaming us. Your scent... it's weak. It smells of sickness. It might offend the Bloodmoon Alpha."

My mother appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. "Pack your things, Seraphina. Don't make a scene. The best service you can provide this family now is your absence."

I looked at them. Really looked at them. The connection was gone. I had tried for years to reach them through the pack link, but to them, I was just static.

A memory clawed its way up: A blizzard. A safe house. Dante shivering in my arms, blinded by silver poison. I had poured my life force into him, feeling the electric snap of the Mate Bond. But he had been blind. He hadn't seen me. He had only smelled me.

And Isabella, masked by a witch's brew and my stolen blood, had hijacked that scent.

I looked back at the ticket. The sorrow in my chest had hardened into something calcified.

"Okay," I rasped.

My father blinked, thrown off by the lack of resistance. "Good. Be gone before sunrise."

They left. I walked to the cracked mirror. My reflection was gaunt, but deep in my irises, a speck of silver flashed-a dormant power I had always been forced to suppress.

"Dante Moretti is dead to me," I whispered.

I packed light. Just clothes and a stash of cash I'd hidden under the floorboards.

As I walked down the hall, I passed Isabella's portrait. She looked regal. Painted lies.

"Enjoy the spotlight," I thought. "The blood bank is closed."

I stepped out the front door. I looked up at the moon, making a silent vow: I will never beg again.

My phone buzzed. Not a text, but a command override that locked my muscles.

Alpha Dante: Come to the penthouse. Now.

The Alpha Command. Even through a screen, his dominance hooked into my nervous system. My body moved before my mind could object.

Seraphina POV:

The elevator ride was a claustrophobic nightmare. My body obeyed the Alpha Command, betraying my will.

The doors slid open. The scent hit me like a physical wall: Rain, ozone, and dark chocolate. Dante. But it was tainted by something cloying-rotting flowers masked by expensive perfume. Isabella.

The living room offered a panoramic view of Chicago, but the real show was on the leather sofa. Isabella was draped over Dante, purring like a satisfied cat.

Dante looked up. His eyes, no longer clouded but piercing blue, narrowed. He looked at me, but he didn't see me.

"You took your time," Dante rumbled. He kept a possessive hand on Isabella's thigh.

"I was packing," I said flatly.

Isabella giggled. "Daddy said you're finally leaving. Going to London to hide your shame?"

Dante's gaze was contemptuous. "You're leaving because you can't stand to see her happy. Because you're a jealous, bitter little thing."

He tossed a cream-colored envelope at my feet. "Pick it up. Open it."

My fingers brushed the heavy cardstock. The Marking Ceremony of Alpha Dante Moretti and Isabella Vitiello.

"You aren't leaving tonight," Dante declared. "You will stay. You will watch me claim her. And once you witness true loyalty, you can crawl back to your hole."

He wanted to break me. He sensed the old love I held for him and wanted to weaponize it.

"Congratulations," I said. The word was hollow.

Dante flinched. My indifference grated on his wolf. "Get out," he growled, confused by his own irritation. "We're going to the Blue Note. You're coming. You can carry Isabella's purse."

The wind outside the jazz club bit through my thin coat. I walked three paces behind them, clutching Isabella's sequined bag like a servant.

Above us, the club's massive neon sign buzzed ominously. I heard the metallic snap of a rusted bolt giving way before I saw it.

"Isabella!" Dante roared. His reflexes were supernatural. He tackled her, shielding her body with his own, rolling them to safety.

He didn't look back.

I looked up. Blue neon death was plummeting toward me.

I tried to dodge, but my reflexes were dull.

Crash.

Agony exploded. The heavy metal frame slammed me into the concrete, pinning my legs and torso. Glass rained down like shrapnel.

"Ahhh!" The scream tore from my throat.

The frame was silver-plated. Smoke rose from my skin as the metal seared into me, sizzling like meat on a grill. The poison entered my bloodstream instantly.

Through the haze, I saw Dante standing up. He was frantically checking Isabella.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, panic lacing his voice.

"I... I think I scraped my elbow," Isabella whimpered, holding up a pristine arm.

Dante kissed the phantom wound.

He didn't look at the wreckage. He didn't look at the girl crushed beneath the burning silver.

Darkness encroached. So this is it, I thought. I die again, watching him save the wrong girl.

Seraphina POV:

I woke to the sterile beep of monitors and the smell of antiseptic.

My back felt like a map of fire. The silver poisoning slowed my healing to a crawl. I tried to sit up, hissing as the movement tugged at the burns.

A nurse walked in, avoiding my gaze. "You're awake. The Alpha paid the bill. Discharge is pending your ability to stand."

"Where are they?" I croaked.

"VIP suite. Lady Isabella is in shock."

Shock. She had a scraped elbow. I had silver toxicity.

I gritted my teeth, grabbed the IV pole, and forced myself upright. I needed to see this. I needed the fuel.

I dragged myself to the VIP floor. Inside, it was a tableau of domestic bliss. My parents eating pastries, Isabella propped up on pillows, and Dante... Dante sat on the edge of the bed, flooding the room with soothing Alpha pheromones.

"Oh, look," Isabella said, voice dripping with syrup. "The clumsy one is awake."

Dante turned, his face hardening. "You look terrible."

"The silver..." I started.

"Isabella was traumatized," my mother interrupted, mouth full of croissant.

Isabella offered a bowl of soup. "Here. I can't finish this. You can have the leftovers."

I caught the scent immediately. Rich broth masking the faint, acrid smell of Nightshade. Just enough to make me sick.

"I'm not hungry," I said.

"Ungrateful brat!" Father barked.

"Eat it, Seraphina," Dante commanded. He didn't smell the poison. He only saw my defiance.

"No."

I turned and walked out. I needed air.

I found the hospital courtyard. A stone fountain sat in the center. I sat on the edge, the cold water soothing the fire in my veins.

"You're tougher than you look."

Isabella stood behind me.

"Leave me alone," I said.

She stepped closer, dropping her voice to a telepathic whisper so Dante wouldn't hear. You are nothing but a spare blood bag. A spare kidney. A spare life.

"Dante will find out," I said, standing.

"Dante is a blind fool," she smirked. "He loves the hero who saved him. He thinks that's me."

She saw Dante emerging through the glass doors. Her face instantly morphed into a mask of terror.

She grabbed my shoulders and shoved me backward.

Weak from the silver, I slipped. I fell into the fountain, the icy water engulfing me.

"Help! Help!" Isabella screamed, clawing her own face to leave marks. "Dante! She's trying to drown me!"

I surfaced, gasping.

Dante was there in a blur. He roared-a sound of primal fury-and gathered Isabella into his arms.

"She tried to kill me!" Isabella sobbed.

Dante looked at me, eyes glowing red.

"Get out," he snarled.

"Dante, I didn't-"

"Silence!" His Alpha Voice slammed into my chest like a physical blow. I coughed up blood.

"You will regret this, Seraphina. No one touches my Mate."