The bond is killing me. Not metaphorically. Not dramatically. Literally eating me alive from the inside out. I stare at the black veins crawling up my left arm like poisonous vines, spreading from my ring finger—the one that should have worn his mark. Instead, it's rotting. The necrosis started three days ago, right after I lost the baby. Right after Alpha Dominic told me I murdered his heir. My hands shake as I wrap the bandage tighter, hiding the evidence of our dying bond. In the pack clinic's bathroom mirror, I look like a ghost. Hollow cheeks. Sunken eyes ringed with purple shadows. Twenty-three years old and I'm decaying. Three years. Three years I've been his secret. Three years he's been Sienna's public boyfriend. The bathroom door crashes open. I don't even flinch anymore. "You need to leave." Nurse Chen won't meet my eyes. She's been kind, but kindness only goes so far when an Alpha gives orders. "Alpha Dominic has requested this facility for Miss Sienna's comfort. She's... she's not feeling well." I almost laugh. Sienna's not feeling well, so I—the dying omega with necrosis spreading through my lymphatic system—need to vacate the medical facility. "I'm still receiving IV antibiotics," I say quietly. "Dr. Reeves said—" "I'll disconnect you." Chen's voice cracks. "I'm sorry, Mara. I'm so sorry. But he was very clear." Of course he was. I don't argue. I learned months ago that arguing changes nothing. Chen unhooks my IV with practiced efficiency, her hands gentle even as she's forcing me out. "The black veins," she whispers. "They've reached your shoulder now. You need to complete the rejection ritual. It's the only way to stop this." "I tried." The words taste like ash. "He refused." Her face goes pale. "He... he can't refuse. That's not—omega rejection is a right, not a request—" "Tell him that." I gather my few belongings—a change of clothes, my dead phone, the ultrasound picture I can't bring myself to throw away. Eight weeks along. That's how far I got before the cramping started. Before I called Dominic seventeen times, texted thirty-two, begged his assistant, his Beta, anyone who would listen. Before I hemorrhaged alone on my apartment floor because my mate was at a charity gala with his girlfriend. The baby didn't survive the night. I barely did. "Emergency hysterectomy," Dr. Reeves had said, like those words wouldn't destroy me. "The fetal demise caused sepsis. We had no choice." Dominic arrived six hours later, still in his tuxedo. Sienna's lipstick was on his collar. He looked at me like I was something rotten. "You killed my child," he'd said. Ice-cold. Absolute. "You couldn't even do this one thing right." I'd tried to explain. The pain. The blood. How I'd called and called and— "You're omega," he'd cut me off. "Your body's only purpose is to carry heirs. And you failed." Then he'd left. Back to Sienna, probably. Back to his real life, where I don't exist. The bond had started dying that night. Our connection, already strained by three years of neglect, began to rot. And when a mate bond dies while both parties live, it takes the weaker wolf with it. Always the omega. Always. I'm halfway across the clinic parking lot when I see them. Dominic's Mercedes. Sienna in the passenger seat, delicate hand pressed to her forehead. He's opening her door, helping her out like she's made of spun glass. Like he never helped me. They don't see me. Why would they? I'm nothing. A secret. A mistake. But then Sienna's eyes lock on mine. She smiles. It's not a kind smile. It's the smile of a woman who's won, who knows she's won, who wants me to know it too. Dominic follows her gaze. For one moment, our eyes meet. The bond flares—a sickly, dying thing that feels like acid in my veins. I gasp, clutching my chest as black spots dance across my vision. He feels it too. I see him flinch. But he doesn't come to me. Doesn't even acknowledge me. He turns back to Sienna, hand on her lower back, guiding her inside. Into the clinic I was just expelled from. Something inside me breaks. Not my heart—that shattered weeks ago. Something deeper. Some last vestige of hope I didn't even know I was still carrying. I pull out my phone. It's been dead for two days, but I charge it with my car adapter, waiting as it powers on. Forty-three missed calls from debt collectors. The hospital bills from losing the baby are astronomical. Zero calls from Dominic. But I'm not calling him. I'm calling the one person who might actually help me survive this. The phone rings three times before a crisp voice answers. "Mara? Is that you?" "Elder Miriam," my voice sounds foreign, hollow. "I need to formally request pack intervention for a rejected bond. My mate is refusing to accept my rejection and the bond is... it's killing me." Silence. Then: "Who is your mate, child?" I close my eyes. This will end everything. The secret will be out. Dominic will hate me even more than he already does. But I'm dying. And I'm so tired of dying for a man who won't even look at me. "Alpha Dominic Ashford," I whisper. "My mate is Alpha Dominic Ashford."