My Brother In Law is My True Mate

We meet again

The Rogue Lands were not like the lush forests of the Shadow-Claw Pack. Here, the trees were black and twisted. The water tasted like iron, and the ground was hard as bone. It was a place where people went to die.

But Seraphina did not die.

She sat in a small hut made of mud and thick branches. She was busy grinding herbs into a paste. Beside her, a young boy with a scarred face watched her every move.

"Will this stop the fever, Sera?" the boy asked.

Seraphina couldn't speak. The muzzle all those years ago had been removed, but the trauma and the silver branding had done something to her throat. She mostly stayed silent. She simply nodded and handed him the bowl.

The people of the Rogue Lands called her "The Silent Healer." She led a small group of outcasts—wolves who had been kicked out of their packs for being too weak or for crimes they didn't commit. Under her care, they were strong.

Seraphina stood up and stretched. Her left shoulder gave a sharp twitch. Even after three years, the brand still throbbed when the weather turned cold. It was a constant reminder of the man who had destroyed her.

---

The Shadow-Claw Pack: A Dying Kingdom

Miles away, the Shadow-Claw Pack was suffering.

Silas sat in the Great Hall, looking at a map of dying farmlands. His face was thin, and his eyes were tired.

"The crops are failing again, Silas," Beta Thomas said. He looked older now, and his voice was full of stress. "The Earth Bond is broken. The land knows there is no True Luna on the throne."

"I am the Luna!" Selina snapped, walking into the room. She was wearing silk and gold, but she looked bitter. Her beauty was fading into a permanent scowl. "It's not my fault the dirt won't grow anything."

"It has been three years, Selina," Silas said, his voice cold. "And still, no heir. No pups. The pack is losing faith."

"Maybe if you touched me more than once a month, we would have a pup!" she yelled.

Silas ignored her. He stood up and grabbed his sword. "The rogues are raiding our northern border. They are desperate because they are starving, just like us. I’m taking the Elite guards to clear them out."

"Silas, wait," Selina said, her voice turning fake-sweet. "It's dangerous out there."

"Good," Silas muttered. "Maybe a fight will make me feel alive again."

---

**The Skirmish**

The battle happened at dawn.

Silas and his five best men were deep in the Rogue Lands. They were looking for a group of bandits, but they found an ambush instead.

"Arrows!" Silas yelled.

A rain of black arrows fell from the trees. Silas shifted into his massive black wolf, his fur bristling. He lunged at a rogue who jumped from a branch, snapping the man's neck in mid-air.

The fight was messy. The rogues were hungry and fought like demons.

"Alpha! Watch out!" a guard cried.

A rogue with a jagged silver blade lunged from the shadows. Silas turned, but he was a second too slow. The silver blade sliced deep into his chest, right across his ribs.

Silas roared in pain. Silver was poison to a wolf. It burned like acid. He managed to crush the rogue's skull with one paw, but the damage was done.

He shifted back into his human form, falling against a tree. His chest was bleeding black blood—the sign of silver poisoning.

"Alpha! We need to get you back!" his lead guard, Kael, shouted.

"Too far..." Silas gasped. He was breaking into a cold sweat. "The poison... it’s moving too fast."

Kael looked around the dark forest. "There is a hut. Just over that ridge. They say a healer lives there. We have no choice."

---

The Healer’s Hut

Seraphina was cleaning her medical tools when the door to her hut was kicked open.

"Help him!" a man in Shadow-Claw armor shouted.

Seraphina froze. She recognized that armor. She recognized that scent. Her heart started to race so fast she thought it would pop.

The guards laid a tall, muscular man on her wooden table. His shirt was soaked in blood.

It was Silas.

"Please," Kael begged, not recognizing the woman in the dirty, hooded cloak. "Our Alpha has been struck by a silver blade. He’s dying."

Seraphina stared at Silas. He looked different. Older. Sadder. For a moment, she thought about letting him die. She thought about the fire, the brand, and the way he had looked at her with hate.

But her wolf whimpered. Save him.

She pushed the guards away and pointed to the door.

"You want us to leave?" Kael asked.

Seraphina nodded firmly.

"We stay," Kael said, reaching for his sword.

Seraphina grabbed a knife and held it to her own throat. She stared him down. Her eyes told him: *Leave, or I kill myself and he dies anyway.*

"Fine," Kael muttered. "But if he dies, this whole forest burns."

The guards stepped outside. Seraphina was alone with her husband’s rival... her husband... her mate.

She ripped open his shirt. The wound was ugly. The silver was eating away at his flesh. She quickly grabbed a bowl of glowing blue liquid—a special mix of herbs and moon-water she had created.

She dipped a cloth into the liquid and pressed it to his chest.

Silas groaned. Even in his sleep, he was in pain. "Sera..." he drifted. "I’m sorry... Sera..."

Seraphina froze. He was saying her name?

She shook her head. He’s just dreaming, she told herself.

She leaned over him, her hands moving expertly over the wound. She had to get the silver out. She used a small pair of tongs to pull out a shard of metal.

Silas arched his back, his muscles tightening.

"Shhh," Seraphina whispered. It was the first sound she had made in years. It was soft and broken.

As the silver left his body, the healing began.

She took a wet cloth and began to clean the blood. As her fingers brushed his skin, she felt a jolt. It wasn't the "mate spark" she used to feel—the silver brand on her shoulder was blocking the bond. It just felt like a strange, cold shiver.

Silas groaned. His eyes stayed closed, but he reached out and grabbed her hand. His grip was weak.

"Don't... go..." he whispered. He didn't know who she was. He was lost in the fever.

Seraphina pulled her hand away. She worked quickly. She used a special paste made of moon-lilies to draw out the poison. She stitched the wound with steady hands.

As she worked, she looked at his face. He looked so much like the man she had loved three years ago. But then she remembered the smell of her own burning skin. She remembered the look of hate in his eyes.

She leaned in to check his breathing. Her face was only inches from his.

Seraphina placed her bare hands on his skin to push her own energy into him. It was a Luna’s gift—the ability to heal the Alpha.

The moment her skin touched his, a spark of electricity shot through both of them.

Silas’s eyes snapped open.

He looked at the woman leaning over him. He couldn't see her face clearly in the shadows, but he could smell her.

He didn't smell the "True Luna" scent. The brand was still doing its job, hiding her soul. He just smelled herbs, woodsmoke, and something... familiar. Something that made his heart ache.

"Who are you?" Silas asked. His voice was a rasp.

Seraphina didn't answer. She pulled back into the shadows.

Silas sat up, clutching the table. He felt better. The burning in his ribs was gone. He looked at the girl. She was wearing rags. She looked like a common rogue. But he felt a pull toward her that he couldn't explain. It wasn't the bond—it was just a deep, heavy curiosity.

"Why did you save me?" he asked. "I’m an Alpha. You’re a rogue. You should hate me."

Seraphina stood by the fire, her back to him.

Silas stood up. He was still a bit shaky, but he walked toward her. "Look at me."

She didn't move.

Silas reached out and grabbed her arm. He didn't mean to be rough, but he wanted to see her face. As he pulled her around, her sleeve caught on a piece of wood from the fireplace.

The leather tore. Her sleeve slid down.

Silas froze.

There, on her pale shoulder, was a scar. It was the shape of a broken wolf’s head. It was the Traitor’s Mark.

His breath hitched. He knew that mark. He was the one who had made it. He looked at the mark, then he looked at her eyes.

"You..." Silas whispered.

He didn't say her name. He didn't say "mate." He just looked horrified.

"You're the girl from the Cathedral," he said. He thought he was looking at the woman who had tried to kill him. "The one who used the dark magic."

Seraphina looked at him. She didn't look scared. She looked bored. She looked like she didn't care what he thought.

"Why are you here?" Silas asked, his voice rising. "Why would a traitor heal the man who banished her?"

Seraphina reached for a piece of charcoal. She wrote on the wall in big, jagged letters:

THE SILVER WAS STINKING UP MY HOUSE.

Silas read the words. He felt a strange mix of anger and something else. He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to demand answers. But every time he looked at her, his wolf let out a small, confused whimper.

"You’re coming with me," Silas said. "I’m taking you back to the pack. We never finished your trial."

Seraphina shook her head. She pointed to the door.

"I’m not asking," Silas said. He stepped closer, his Alpha power filling the small room. "You’re a criminal, and you're in my territory."

Seraphina didn't flinch at his power. She just smiled—a cold, sharp smile. She picked up a small whistle made of bone and blew it.

There was no sound, but a second later, the hut was surrounded.

The door was kicked open, but it wasn't the Elite guards. It was twenty rogues with bows and spears. They had Silas’s guards tied up in the dirt outside.

"Alpha!" Kael shouted from outside. "There’s too many of them!"

A tall man with a scar across his eye stepped into the hut with a bow and arrow aimed directly at Silas’s heart. He stood next to Seraphina.

"Is this man bothering you, Healer?" the rogue asked.

Silas growled, his eyes flashing. "Move aside, rogue. This is pack business."

"This is the Rogue Lands," the man said. "And in these lands, she is the only law we follow."

Seraphina pointed to the forest.

"She says leave," the rogue man said. "Before we decide that an Alpha’s head would look good on a pole."

Silas looked at Seraphina. He was confused. He was angry. But most of all, he was bothered by the fact that he didn't want to leave her.

"This isn't over," Silas said, staring into her eyes. "I don't know what game you're playing, but I’m going to find out."

He turned and walked out of the hut. His guards were released, and they quickly retreated toward the border.

As Silas reaches the pack border, he stops. He looks back at the dark forest. His shoulder where he had felt the pain for three years is finally quiet.