Reborn To Escape The Cruel Mate

Five years into bending over backward for Victor Harrington, my supposed fated mate, I found out the heart beating in his chest wasn't Julian's-my lost mate. It was all a lie, spun by my father, Graham Ellison, to trick me into taking my half-sister's place in this sacred bond.

I stared at the video my friend sent, Dad slurring the truth in a drunken haze. My chest twisted, like a giant hand was squeezing the life out of me. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe for what felt like forever.

In the dim glow of the vacation cabin, the sounds of Victor's latest fling faded. He strolled out, shirtless, tossing his dirty clothes at me. "Wash 'em," he said, voice flat as ever.

Normally, I'd have grabbed them, scrubbed them by hand like some obedient she-wolf. But today, I just stared at the jagged scar across his chest, lost in thought.

I'd heard once that a heart transplant could carry echoes of the original owner's feelings. That hope had kept me going for five years. Five years of clinging to a ghost. And it was all a lie.

Victor's hundredth canary-a she-wolf in a flimsy nightgown, all curves and charm, looking like the spitting image of his true love-sauntered out, draping herself over his shoulder. "Victor, darling, you messed up my dress too. Brooke, be a dear and hand-wash it, yeah?" Her voice was honey, but her eyes were sharp.

She was his favorite, the one who lasted longest. He even brought her to business meetings, leaving me, his so-called destined mate, in the dust. On this trip, I was their driver, their errand girl, delivering condoms and waiting outside their room like some stray pup while they went at it.

But now, Victor lit a cigarette, irritation flickering in his eyes. "You're asking too much. We're done."

The canary froze. "Victor."

"Take five million and leave, or vanish from Belmor Town." His voice was ice, sharp enough to cut.

Victor's name in the pack's business circles was synonymous with ruthless. Cross him, and you'd be lucky to crawl away. One glare, and the canary was trembling, grabbing her things and bolting.

He turned to me, voice clipped. "You deaf? Clothes."

"My cycle's here," I rasped. "Can't touch cold water."

He smirked, grabbed the million-dollar suit from my arms, and tossed it in the trash.

I knew why he was pissed. After his heart surgery, his body's fragile as glass. I used to hover over him, snarling at anyone who dared light a cigarette near him. But today? I didn't care. He could smoke himself to death for all it mattered.

Why should I care? That heart wasn't Julian's.

Driving back from the resort, Victor radiated cold fury, and I didn't bother breaking the silence. Halfway home, he spoke, voice low. "We're heading back to form the bond today. Get it done."

I blinked, caught off guard. "No, I-"

His phone cut me off, shrill and urgent. He motioned for me