Abandoned by My Alpha Mate

The cold metal bit into my wrists as I struggled against the silver-laced restraints. Each movement sent waves of burning pain through my skin, the silver reacting with my werewolf blood like acid. I tugged harder, desperate to free myself from the ritual table in the center of Camille's healing chamber.

"Stop struggling, Helena," Camille said, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she arranged gleaming surgical instruments on a tray beside me. "This is for the advancement of our pack's healing knowledge."

I glared up at Christopher's stepsister, her perfectly manicured hands selecting a scalpel that caught the harsh overhead light. The sterile white walls of the healing chamber seemed to close in around me, amplifying the metallic scent of the instruments and the antiseptic smell that couldn't quite mask the underlying scent of blood.

"This isn't healing," I said, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my throat. "Whatever you're planning to do to me—"

The door swung open, and Christopher strode in, his powerful frame filling the doorway. My heart leapt at the sight of my mate—the Alpha who had once saved me from rogue wolves and promised to protect me forever. But the coldness in his gray eyes as they swept over me extinguished that flicker of hope.

"Alpha," I whispered, "please don't do this."

Christopher's jaw tightened as he approached the table. "Helena, you will submit to this procedure. It's for the greater good of the pack."

"I don't want to be experimented on," I said, pulling harder against the restraints. "Camille doesn't know what she's doing—"

"Enough!" Christopher's voice dropped into the Alpha command, the supernatural weight of it crushing against my will. "As your Alpha and your mate, I command you to submit."

The Alpha command slammed into me like a physical blow. My body went limp against the table, my wolf howling in protest but unable to resist the order. Tears of frustration burned behind my eyes as I felt my control slip away.

"Perfect," Camille purred, lifting the scalpel. "Now we can begin."

The pain was excruciating. I couldn't move, couldn't fight back as Camille made the first incision. My wolf retreated deep inside me, whimpering as something essential seemed to drain away with each cut.

---

Three days later, I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling as waves of weakness washed over me. My wolf felt distant, muted—like a radio signal fading in and out. The scars on my torso throbbed with each heartbeat, angry red lines that would never fully heal thanks to the silver-infused stitches Camille had used.

"Helena?" Christopher's voice came from the doorway of our shared quarters. "You need to get up. The pack meeting starts in an hour."

I turned my head slowly, each movement requiring effort. "Christopher... please. Whatever Camille is doing to me, it's hurting my wolf. I can barely feel her anymore."

He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, his expression unreadable. "Your discomfort