After My Mate Betrayed Me

The mind-link hit me like a physical blow, nearly sending me to my knees in the middle of the pack market. Healer Elara's voice, usually so calm and measured, crackled with urgency through our mental connection.

*Luna, you need to come to the healing den. Now.*

I abandoned my basket of herbs, my fingers already trembling as I traced the moonflower birthmark on my wrist—a nervous habit I'd developed since childhood. The crowd parted as I ran, their curious gazes following my desperate sprint through the Silver Moon territory.

The acrid smell of burnt flesh hit me before I even reached the healing den's entrance. My wolf whimpered, recognizing the scent beneath the damage. *Father.*

"Luna." Elara emerged from behind a privacy screen, her usually pristine healer's robes stained with blood and healing salves. The exhaustion etched into her face told me everything I needed to know before she even spoke. "The rogues ambushed the border patrol. Your father... he saved two younger Deltas, but the burns—"

"Show me." My voice came out steadier than I felt.

Nothing could have prepared me for what lay behind that screen. My proud warrior father, the man who once stood as the pack's shield, lay unconscious on the healing platform. Burns covered over sixty percent of his body, the flesh angry and weeping despite Elara's best efforts. His chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths.

"I've done everything I can with traditional healing," Elara said softly, her hand gentle on my shoulder. "But burns this severe, especially with the rogue's cursed fire... he needs a Lycan healer."

The words hung between us like a death sentence. Lycan healers were the stuff of legends—ancient beings with healing powers that transcended normal werewolf abilities. They were also impossibly expensive.

"How much?" I whispered, though I already knew the answer would crush me.

"Aldric, the Lycan healer in the Northern Territories, charges a hundred thousand dollars for burns this extensive." Elara's voice was apologetic, knowing how impossible that sum was for a demoted Delta's family.

A hundred thousand dollars. It might as well have been a million. My nurturing work with new mothers barely covered our monthly expenses. I sank into the chair beside my father's bed, taking his unburned hand in mine. Even unconscious, his fingers were rough with calluses from years of wielding weapons to protect our pack.

"How long does he have?"

"Without the Lycan healing? Maybe three days. The burns are too deep, and infection will set in despite my best efforts." Elara squeezed my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Luna. I wish there was more I could do."

Three days. Seventy-two hours to somehow manifest a miracle.

I stayed by his bedside until the sun began to set, watching the labored rise and fall of his chest. My mind raced through every possible option. I could beg the pack council for a loan, but they'd already made it clear that demoted warriors weren't worth such investments. I could try to contact