Left to Die by My Mate, I Ruled the Lycans

Chapter 2: You Chose the Poison

The morning after my Awakening, the Crescent Pack was suffocated by a tense, heavy silence. The phantom ice that had awakened in my veins last night still hummed beneath my skin, a cold, comforting shield against the festering tether of the mate bond.

Because Kaelen had refused my rejection in front of the entire pack, the bond hadn't cleanly snapped. Instead, it had turned necrotic. I could feel it sitting in my chest like a rotting splinter. Ordinarily, a half-severed bond would cause a wolf paralyzing agony, driving them to their knees in submission. But where it should have burned me, the new, ancient power within simply froze the connection over, numbing the pain entirely.

I stood in the dim light of the pack house's apothecary wing, the air thick with the smell of dried earth and bitter roots. For the past three years, this tiny, claustrophobic room had been my self-imposed prison.

In my previous life, I woke up at four in the morning every single day to grind Moonflower petals and simmer Bitterleaf stems. Kaelen’s Alpha wolf was unnaturally aggressive, too violent for his young body, causing him blinding, debilitating migraines. I was the only one who knew the exact ratio of herbs to soothe his beast. I had burned my fingers on hot cauldrons, stained my nails brown with sap, and sacrificed my own sleep just to see a brief flash of relief in his amber eyes.

My gaze fell on the neatly labeled glass jars lined up on the wooden counter. The Moonflower glowed faintly in the early morning light.

Without a second thought, I swept my arm across the table.

Crash.

Glass shattered into a hundred jagged pieces. The expensive, painstakingly gathered herbs scattered across the wet stone floor. I picked up the heavy iron mortar and dumped the remaining paste directly into the waste bin, watching the dark green sludge slide into the trash. The pungent, bitter aroma filled the air, but to me, it smelled like absolute freedom.

"Lyra? What are you doing?"

I turned to see Elara standing in the doorway. Her perfect blonde hair was tousled, and she wore one of Kaelen’s oversized flannel shirts, a deliberate, glaring territorial claim meant to put me in my place.

"Cleaning up," I said, my voice entirely flat. I grabbed my worn canvas duffel bag and began tossing my personal belongings—a few worn medical journals, a heavy knit sweater, my mother's silver locket—into it.

"Kaelen is waiting for his medicine," Elara snapped, stepping into the room. She looked at the broken glass on the floor and sneered. "He’s in a terrible mood because of your little stunt last night. You made him look like a fool in front of the elders. Hurry up and brew the tea so he can calm down, and maybe he won't banish you to the omega quarters."

I zipped my bag shut, the metallic sound sharp in the quiet room. "Brew it yourself."

Elara’s jaw dropped. A flush of angry red crept up her neck. "Excuse me? I don't know how to make that slop. That's your job, runt."

"Not anymore." I slung the heavy bag over my shoulder, my combat boots crunching over the broken glass as I walked toward the door.

She reached out to grab my arm. "You can't just leave! He's the future Alpha!"

I didn't flinch. I just shifted my weight and slammed my shoulder directly into hers. The impact sent her stumbling backward, her hip crashing into the wooden counter. She gasped, holding her side.

"If you're his chosen mate," I said, looking down at her, "then you figure out how to keep him alive."

I left her standing there, speechless and fuming, and headed down the long, shadowed corridor of the Alpha's floor. I needed to drop my keys off at the administration office before leaving the pack house for good. I had a small, abandoned cabin on the very edge of the territory; I wouldn't spend another hour breathing the same air as them.

Halfway down the hall, a low, guttural groan echoed off the stone walls. The sound was raw, like an animal caught in a steel trap.

I paused.

A few yards ahead, Kaelen was leaning heavily against the carved oak door of his study. His broad shoulders were hunched, his knuckles bone-white as he gripped the doorframe to keep himself upright. Sweat dripped from his forehead, soaking the collar of his grey t-shirt, and his chest heaved with jagged, desperate breaths.

The rotting mate bond flared, sending a thick pulse of sheer agony through the invisible thread. He was hurting. The Alpha wolf inside him was clawing at the inside of his skull, enraged and confused by my public rejection and the sudden lack of his daily soothing ritual.

Hearing my footsteps, Kaelen lifted his heavy head. His golden eyes were entirely bloodshot, the veins stark against his pale skin. When he saw me, a flicker of relief—and arrogant expectation—crossed his face.

"You're late," he grunted, his voice hoarse and broken. He extended a trembling hand toward me. "Give it to me, Lyra. The pain is worse today. My head is killing me."

He didn't apologize for humiliating me last night. He didn't ask how I was feeling. He just stood there, fully expecting the girl who had always catered to his every whim to hand over his salvation on a silver platter.

I stopped three feet away from him. My hands rested loosely at my sides. "I don't have it."

Kaelen blinked, his brow furrowing as a fresh wave of pain hit him. He swayed dangerously, sliding down the doorframe until he dropped to one knee on the carpet. He clutched his temples, groaning. "Stop playing games. Go back to the apothecary and get my medicine. Now. That is a direct Alpha command."

"The jars are broken, Kaelen. The herbs are in the trash," I said, my voice as cold as a frozen lake. "I'm not making your medicine today. Or tomorrow. Or ever again."

His head snapped up. The sheer, unadulterated shock on his face almost made me laugh. "You destroyed it?" he rasped, his breathing turning incredibly shallow. "Are you insane? Do you have any idea what this feels like? My skull is splitting open!"

"I do," I replied softly.

In my mind's eye, I saw the muddy alleyway again. I felt the rogue's teeth sinking into my shoulder. I remembered screaming for Kaelen, only to watch his retreating back as he carried Elara away.

"I know exactly what it feels like to have your world ripped apart while the person supposed to protect you does nothing," I said, the words dripping with venom.

"Lyra, please," he choked out. The Alpha aura he was so proud of was completely gone, replaced by the pathetic whimpers of a broken boy. His pride finally cracked under the sheer weight of the physical agony. He reached out, his trembling fingers weakly grasping the hem of my leather jacket. "I need you."

I looked down at the future Alpha of the Crescent Pack, kneeling in the hallway, begging for the very girl he had called a disgrace less than twelve hours ago. The sight didn't bring me joy. It just made me realize how worthless he truly was.

I smoothly pulled my jacket from his grip.

"You chose the poison," I whispered, the words hanging in the tense air as I stepped over his trembling body. "I am no longer your cure."

I didn't look back as I walked away, leaving him gasping and clawing at the carpet. But as I pushed open the heavy front doors of the pack house and stepped out into the morning mist, a terrifying, earth-shattering howl echoed from the distant mountains—a royal, dominating sound that made the ancient ice in my veins sing in response.