Chapter 1 Chapter 1

My sister, Cherry Nicholson, called me nine times before she jumped into the sea. I didn't pick up once. Now everyone says it's my fault she's gone—even my fiance, my Alpha mate—Samuel Carver. He used to stay by my side through every painful treatment for my wolfsbane fever. Now, he shoves me to the ground like I'm nothing. His once gentle face is now twisted with contempt as he looks down on me and warns, "You don't deserve to be happy!" And truth be told, it isn't just them who believe that. Even I do. Since then, I've stopped going out, stopped dressing up, and stopped meeting anyone's eyes. Even when I run into Samuel holding hands with another she-wolf, I lower my head and walk past silently. But when the wolfsbane fever comes back, I drown in agony and despair. I decide to give my life to atone for what happened to Cherry. That's when they all start to regret it. ... It was drizzling when I headed to the infirmary. Allison Payne, the healer, was a kind-looking, middle-aged woman. As she glanced at the results on the computer, her expression softened with sympathy. "Sherry," she said gently. "Based on this, I recommend you be admitted for a marrow purification treatment." I pressed my lips together and said nothing. She patted my hand and continued, "It's okay if you don't want to. It's an aggressive treatment, and honestly, it's really painful. I'll prescribe something to you to manage the wolfsbane fever instead. "Just keep in mind, the onset of the fever is closely tied to your emotional state. The more depressed you get, the deeper the poisoning runs. That's when the self-harming starts. Your real issue seems to be with your family. If it's possible, you should talk to them." Talk to them? They didn't even like talking to me. I twisted my fingers together instinctively. The skin felt rough as it was covered in old scars. Just as I was about to leave, Allison glanced at me and added, "I remember your fated mate. He's always been so loving. He stuck with you through every treatment, didn't he? Love and support are the best medicine. Spend more time with him. That could help you heal too." But Allison didn't know that my fated mate didn't seem to want to stay by my side anymore. Samuel Carver and I had been in love for a year, and I had been claimed as his mate for three months now. Two years ago, I missed calls from my sister, Cherry Nicholson. She took her own life that same night. Mom screamed that I was a murderer. She threw things at me—plates, shoes, anything she could get her hands on. When she got tired of throwing, she used her fists instead. Her voice still haunted me, like a curse carved into my memory. "It should've been you, not her." That same year, I was diagnosed with wolfsbane fever, and I broke down sobbing by the side of the road. People stared, whispered, then walked right past me like I didn't exist. Only Samuel stood in front of me with an umbrella and handed me a clean handkerchief. Smiling, he said, "A face this pretty shouldn't be crying." I snapped out of the memory and grabbed my phone to call Samuel repeatedly. He didn't answer. The automated voice on the other end kept repeating the same message, drilling into my nerves. Eventually, I hung up and dragged myself home. … When I reached home, I noticed that the front door was wide open. I thought maybe Samuel had come back. I was about to call out his name, but the words died in my throat. The place was a mess, and everything was knocked over. I froze, about to call the enforcers, when I saw someone coming down the stairs. It was Mom, whom I hadn't seen in a long time. She was holding a photo frame that looked all too familiar in her hands. There was a flicker of something in her eyes when she saw me, then she raised her arms and hurled the frame straight at me. It hit the floor, and the glass shattered at my feet. When she saw I wasn't hurt, she lunged at me, grabbed my hair, and began punching. Her face twisted with rage. She kept repeating in a frantic, broken voice, "You think you deserve a bonding ceremony with someone you love? You? You killed Cherry with your own hands! "You should rot in hell. You don't deserve to be happy! Why? Why wasn't it you who died?" I didn't dare fight back. I just covered my head and let her rage. Every cruel word hit like a blade, sinking deep into my chest. The crushing weight of despair was almost unbearable. I clutched my ears, whispering to myself that I couldn't die. I promised Cherry. I didn't know how long the blows kept coming, but eventually, a maid rushed in and pulled her off me. The maid kneeled beside me and asked if I was okay. That was when I finally blinked back to the present. With trembling hands, I dug through my bag for my medicine. However, I couldn't find it. Just then, a pair of polished leather shoes stepped into my vision. Cold liquid splashed over my head, soaking my hair and running down my face before hitting the floor with a soft patter. I froze and looked up. Samuel looked down at me, holding the empty vial in his hand. His smile was cold and cruel as he looked at me. "Lick it," he demanded.

Chapter 2 Chapter 2

My condition had actually started to stabilize when Samuel claimed me as his mate. When the wolfsbane fever was at its worst, I had no choice but to lock myself in a room. I couldn't eat or drink because every ounce of strength I had was already spent just trying to endure the pain. Samuel felt sorry for me. He took time off work and dragged me away on a long trip to distract me. We went from blazing deserts to frozen tundras. He proposed on a lavender-covered hillside. When he kneeled on one knee to slip the ring onto my finger, his expression was nothing but reverent. "Sherry Nicholson, I'll stay by your side for the rest of my life." I used to think Samuel was my anchor. When the pain pushed me to the edge of consciousness, he was the only thing that held me back. When I was torn between the urge to die and the desperate will to live, he tipped the scale. He stepped into my life at its darkest, like a stream of sunlight, chasing away the pain and lighting up everything. But now, as I looked at his cold expression, I sank to my knees in humiliation and licked the spilled medicine off the floor. The carpet scraped against my tongue, and Samuel's mocking gaze scraped against my heart. He let go of the vial. It clattered across the floor and rolled to the side. I scrambled over and picked it up, clutching it close. There was still a bit of the medicine left inside. I tucked it against my chest like it was something precious. The maid had already slipped away, unable to bear watching me like this. Samuel just watched me with a cold, detached gaze. "I never knew you were this twisted. Sherry, you killed your sister. This is just karma. You deserve every bit of it." I didn't look up. I just held the vial tighter. I had a pretty good guess when he found out. I had never told Samuel why I had wolfsbane fever. But after we got engaged, he kept saying he wanted to meet Mom and get her blessing. My relationship with Mom had never been good. The resentment from my childhood still lingered. And truth be told, she had always hated me. Eventually, Samuel stopped asking. A week ago, he vanished for a day. When he came back, he treated me differently. Three days ago, he brought his assistant, Jill Bennett, home. I woke up to noise downstairs, thinking he was working late on pack matters. I was just about to ask if he was tired, but the sight before me stopped me in my tracks. Jill was gorgeous. Her wavy hair fell across Samuel's chest as she leaned in and kissed him. He simply turned his face slightly, letting her kiss his cheek. He didn't refuse. Jill giggled like a cat who had gotten the cream. "Samuel, your Luna's still here. Should I not be doing this?" Her voice brimmed with barely concealed smugness. The whole living room reeked of alcohol. I heard Samuel's voice grow cold as he said, "Jill, ignore her. She doesn't deserve respect. If it weren't for her face…" I didn't hear the rest. The wolfsbane fever flared up all of a sudden. Nausea, pain, and a searing heat spread from my chest through every inch of my body. I staggered to the bathroom and collapsed over the sink, dry heaving. When tears blurred my vision, I remembered the first thing Samuel ever said to me when we first met. "A face this pretty shouldn't be crying." By the time I had retched myself empty, Samuel was standing at the doorway, watching me fall apart. "You can't even take that? But what you did was worse." I didn't know when he left. By the time the spilled medicine had dried on the floor, I was the only one left in the room. I sat amid the mess, staring blankly at the picture frame lying nearby. Eventually, I picked it up. A sharp shard cut my hand, and bright red blood dripped onto my face in the photo. It was a candid shot of Samuel and me, taken during one of our trips. He was carrying my favorite dessert, grinning as he walked toward me. I had my back to him, looking at the moon. The crowd around us blurred into nothing more than a backdrop. Only the Alpha bringing dessert for his Luna and the Luna watching the moon were in focus. The woman who took the photo handed it to me with a kind smile and said, "May happiness be with you both forever." Back then, Samuel was holding my hand. He leaned in and whispered, "Sherry, I'll help you heal. We're going to be happy forever, okay?" That moment felt like soaking in warm sunlight. I felt like the luckiest she-wolf on earth. I wanted to heal desperately, so I threw myself into treatment. I used suppressants with horrible side effects and tried every method they offered. I used to fight through it all on my own. When the despair got too loud, I would cut into my skin again and again to trade physical pain for a break from the mental agony. As long as I didn't die—as long as I kept my promise to Cherry—I would be fine. Then Samuel came, and I started seeing healers. But just when I was one step away from escaping the pain, the hand that reached out to me shoved me back instead. Once again, I fell into the darkness. Samuel stopped coming home. Mom's texts came in like clockwork every day. She called me a freak and called me stupid. She asked why it wasn't I who died. I didn't dare read too much either. My unstable emotions were a ticking bomb. I had no idea what I would become if the wolfsbane fever ever fully broke loose.

Chapter 3 Chapter 3

I told the maid to clean up the place. The photo frame was shattered beyond repair, so she asked if I wanted to throw it away. I just stared at it for a long time before shaking my head. After she was done, I got ready to head out to meet my friend, Alma Cooper. She had just returned from another pack and invited me to catch up over lunch. We met at a fancy restaurant. Soft music played in the background. As soon as Alma saw me, she pulled me into a warm hug. When she stepped back, she gave me a once-over. Her eyes were filled with confusion. "You look so worn out. I thought your Alpha was taking good care of you." I didn't say a word. She picked up on it immediately. "He's not treating you right, is he?" I changed the subject. "Let's not talk about him. It's been forever since we hung out." Soon, the food arrived. While eating, Alma launched into stories about her trip, complaining about the new werewolves she had met. She had me laughing halfway through my meal. I had just picked up a piece of steak with my fork when my smile froze. I had forgotten. This place was known for its cozy, romantic atmosphere. It was a favorite among couples. Still, Samuel and Jill shouldn't have come here. He pulled her chair out with all the charm of a textbook gentleman. She smiled sweetly and thanked him. Their table was decked with crimson roses. The moonstone ring on Samuel's finger caught the light, sending a glare straight into my eyes. Maybe I was staring too hard, for Samuel noticed. The moment our eyes met, his lips curled into a smirk. Then, right in front of me, he reached up and gently tucked a strand of Jill's hair behind her ear. The gesture was intimate, with a hint of flirtation. Alma followed my gaze and caught the scene too. Her temper flared instantly. She grabbed her wine glass and shot to her feet. "Don't." I grabbed her hand. I shook my head and practically begged, "Please, don't." She looked into my tear-filled eyes for a long moment and finally sat back down. A pounding ache bloomed in my skull. I dug out my suppressant, hands trembling as I twisted off the cap. Cold liquid slid down my throat, but the choking feeling still pressed in from all sides. Clearly, Alma's carefully planned date was ruined. As Alma and I walked out together, we passed Samuel and Jill. Alma couldn't help herself. She used her bag to knock over a wine glass "accidentally". It toppled over with a sharp clink, spilling red liquid across their table and dripping onto the floor. Jill frowned and was about to start an argument with Alma. But Alma stared straight ahead, unapologetic. "Oops, sorry about that." Jill was about to snap back, but she stopped when she saw me. She quickly swapped to a fake smile. "This restaurant's lovely. Perfect for couples.""Do you like it?" Samuel didn't look at me. Smiling, he cut Jill's steak. "We'll come here often, then." I pressed my lips together and avoided looking at them. My face was pale as I stared at the dark stain of wine spreading on the table, drop by drop falling to the floor. Its deep red color stirred unsettling thoughts in me. Alma noticed. She quickly stepped in front of me, blocking the sight, then grabbed my hand and led me out. In the car, I collapsed into the passenger seat, barely able to breathe. My hand trembled as I reached for another vial. But I fumbled. The suppressant fell onto the blanket-covered floor with a soft thud. I didn't pick it up. I just clenched my fists tight, fingernails digging into my palms. I forced myself to stay conscious while I teetered on the edge of despair and breakdown. My eyes burned, and my skull throbbed like it was about to split in two, but I didn't cry. Not a single tear. I lifted my head and looked into the rearview mirror. Looking back at me was a girl with bloodshot eyes. She looked like a wounded pup, ignored, humiliated, even cursed. Pitiful and yet somehow pathetic. "Alma…" I murmured. "I don't have a home anymore." Alma pulled me into a hug before she left. She didn't say much and just reminded me to keep seeing my healer. I nodded. But the moment the car door slammed shut, my negative emotions burst forth uncontrollably, stronger than ever before. The house the maid had tidied was a disaster again in minutes. I tore through everything like a storm, smashing whatever I could get my hands on. The sound of things breaking was crisp and sharp, but it was still not enough. Perhaps I had been holding it in for too long. Now, the urge to destroy everything was unbearable. The devil in my head screamed louder than ever. Before I could think, my hand reached for the silver dagger. The blade gleamed cold under the dim light, resting just above the fragile skin on my wrist. The door suddenly swung open. Samuel's hand froze mid-air as our eyes met. Every time I reached for a blade before, he would always show up. His hand was gentle, and his voice trembled with a mix of fear and something like love. He never let me go through with it. But this time, he just stood there, expressionless, like a silent spectator. The ticking of the wall clock filled the room, and each second hammered against my chest. "Do it." Looking at me, he sneered. "Why don't you aim for your heart instead?" I didn't move. I just stared at him like a puppet. Samuel pressed his lips tight, a cruel edge in his expression. "You don't even dare to do it. You just want pity." Then, tilting his head, like he was genuinely curious, he asked, "Tell me, Sherry. Why wasn't it you who died? Just admit it. You don't have the guts to die." He spoke the last line deliberately, almost as if weighing every syllable. The dagger slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor. I had to fight with everything I had just to stop myself from shaking. He was right. I didn't have the guts to die. The medicine and promises kept me from dying, but a life without hope made it impossible to truly live. Despair wrapped around me like creeping vines. Finally, I broke down and cried out in agony.

Chapter 4 Chapter 4

Before, whenever I cried, Samuel would hold me tight. That cold, distant Alpha would whisper softly to soothe me, just like Cherry used to. She always wiped my tears with a handkerchief scented with flowers and herbs. Then, she would hold me close and whisper gently, "Don't cry, Sherry. A face this pretty shouldn't be crying." It was such a cliche line, but I heard it for years and never grew tired of it. Now, no one in this world would ever comfort me like that again. … The pain kept swallowing me whole. Sometimes I would forget to take my medicine; sometimes I took too much. I started leaving scars on myself again. The pale marks on my wrist that were nearly healed a year ago were now covered by fresh, overlapping wounds. They looked vicious but weren't fatal. Eventually, I ran out of medicine. I didn't know how I got through it. I remembered gulping air like it could fill the hollow left by the missing drugs. I remembered staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. It looked distorted and rippling, as if I were melting away. I barely made it to Cherry's death anniversary. That day, the sky was clear. I got up early and forced myself to look decent, then went to buy flowers. But when I arrived at Cherry's grave, someone had beaten me there. Mom was already there, with all kinds of offerings laid out. I walked over with a blank face and placed my flowers down. Just as I was about to turn and leave, a stone struck the back of my head hard. I stumbled and almost fell. The wrapped flowers came undone, scattering across the ground. Mom's voice was thick with hatred as she screamed hysterically at me and spat out words too cruel to repeat, "What are you doing here? You killed her! How dare you come to see her?" Then she broke down, weeping loudly. "You should've been the one to die!" I didn't turn around. My head throbbed and spun, like I was standing on a cliff's edge above a bottomless sea. I gripped my hands tightly, forcing myself to clear the haze and pull myself away. Only when I got into the car did I see a message from Allison. She asked why I hadn't come for so long. I stared at her profile picture for a while, then slowly typed. "Sorry, there's just been so much going on lately." Allison replied immediately, "Let me reschedule for you. When can you come?""I give up…" I typed. The cursor blinked in the text box. In the end, I didn't send that message. "I'll contact you later." … Samuel came home early for the first time in a while. It wasn't Jill who took him home, but a male subordinate. When he came in, I was squinting at the empty vial. It had been empty for some time. The subordinate helped Samuel onto the couch, politely excused himself, and left. Samuel was unusually drunk. The heavy scent of alcohol filled the room. His face was flushed, and his eyes glazed over. It was just the two of us. Bright light from the living room fell on Samuel's face. He squinted slightly, but his gaze stayed on me. I set the vial down and met his gaze. Suddenly, he struggled to sit up and looked at me. He didn't come closer but smiled at me with eyes narrowed into slits. His eyes were red-rimmed. He whispered, "Cherry, I haven't thought about you in so long. I met someone. She looks so much like you. I'm going to have a bonding ceremony with her. I like her a lot. But… But… Her mom says she's the one who killed you." Time seemed to freeze in that moment. Everything around us fell silent except the roaring blood in my ears. I stared at Samuel, numb, like I was falling into an ice cellar. He kept talking, but I didn't hear a word. He softly called "Cherry" over and over. How did he know Cherry? She died two years ago after jumping into the sea. So that was it. It was no wonder Samuel was oddly excited the first time he met me. No wonder he was so kind in the beginning. No wonder he had said, "If it weren't for her face…" It turned out he was drawn to me because my face resembled Cherry's. What I had mistaken for salvation and true love was actually just another deep abyss. I stumbled into the study and knocked the entire bookshelf down. Pages flew, and books were torn apart. The room became a storm, and I was the eye of it. I had to find proof and truth. Something to make this madness make sense. Then, I saw it—a graduation photo from Werewolf Academy. In it were Samuel, with his youthful face, and Cherry, beautiful in her uniform skirt. My foggy mind finally cleared a little. But just moments later, Samuel staggered in and snatched the photo from me. He was clearly drunk, but somehow, he seemed sober. "Why… Why wasn't it you who died?" The shield I had built in my heart shattered completely. My nerves snapped like broken wires. The noise inside my head exploded. I lost all reason. With all my strength, I pushed him away. "I'll give her my life, then. One for one. That should make things right." Samuel slammed into the wall. His smirk was still playing at the corner of his mouth until he saw my face. He realized I meant it. But I didn't look at him. I had already started running. "Sherry!" His voice cracked with fear as he lunged after me. But he was drunk and couldn't keep up. His fingers grazed my shirt, but he only tore a piece of fabric. I flung the door open and vanished into the night. The cold wind carried Samuel's endless calls, but I didn't look back.