Betrayed for the Treaty

*POV=KAIA*

The heavy silence of the hotel room amplifies the pounding in my skull. I sit perfectly still on the edge of the large mattress, clutching the tangled white bedsheet to my chest to ward off the morning chill. The early sunlight filters through the crack in the heavy curtains, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the quiet air. It feels entirely surreal that I had more intense physical chemistry and explosive sexual connection with a complete stranger than I ever did with Caleb during our entire relationship. Yet, having his cock buried inside me last night miraculously erased the dull, lingering ache of my severed mate bond. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, my chest does not feel like a hollowed-out cavern of rejection and despair.

I sit on the edge of the bed, admiring his massive, muscular build and his perfectly sculpted, breathtaking face while he sleeps. His dark, coily hair falls effortlessly over his forehead, softening the sharp, dangerous angles of his chiseled jawline. The sheets are pushed down past his hips, revealing the heavy corded muscles of his broad chest and the faint scratch marks my nails left on his golden skin. A foreign sense of peace settles over me as I watch the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Suddenly, a violent, uncontrollable coughing fit seizes my lungs. Panic flares, hot and absolute. I slap a hand over my mouth, rushing blindly to the bathroom. My bare feet slip against the cold tile floor as I stumble forward. I lean over the sink, violently coughing up bright red blood against the white porcelain. I grip the edges of the ceramic basin, my knuckles turning completely white as I fight for a single breath. The metallic taste of my own blood coats my tongue. I stare in sheer horror as the crimson droplets swirl down the drain. The moon sickness is advancing rapidly. The disease is tearing through my immune system at a terrifying pace.

I wash my face with shaking hands, scrubbing the remaining blood from my lips. With absolutely no time to waste and terrified of him discovering my terminal state, I slip back into the bedroom. I gather my scattered clothes from the floor, my movements quick and silent. I pull on my dress and grab my purse, casting one last, longing glance at the gorgeous man in the bed. I slip out of the hotel room before the stranger even stirs, leaving behind the only brief moment of comfort I have known in days.

I spend the next week in complete isolation. I drive aimlessly away from the city center, eventually renting a different, rundown hotel room on the outskirts of the territory. The wallpaper is peeling in long, ugly strips, and the flickering neon sign outside casts a sickly yellow glow over the sagging bed. For the very first time in my life, I am actively avoiding my pack duties. I lock the door, draw the dusty curtains, and let the darkness swallow me whole. I sit on the floor, wrapped in a thin, scratchy blanket, trying to process the rapid deterioration of my body.

But as the sickness relentlessly drains my physical energy, the reality of my situation becomes impossible to ignore. Every morning, waking up takes more effort than the last. By the seventh day, my limbs feel like lead. Getting out of bed makes my vision swim with dark spots. My mind is constantly clouded with thick fog, making it incredibly difficult to focus on basic thoughts. The moon sickness is slowly suffocating my wolf, and the hollow emptiness inside my chest is unbearable.

Despite the agonizing weakness invading my bones, my Alpha instincts roar to life. I cannot simply hide in this decrepit room and wait to die in the shadows. I am a healer. I am the future Alpha of the Evermore pack. I know I must return to the Evermore pack and face my responsibilities head-on, regardless of my impending death. My people need me, and I refuse to abandon them because of my own tragic fate. I gather my meager belongings, force my heavy, aching body into my car, and begin the grueling drive back home.

When I arrive back at the pack lands, the atmosphere is eerily, unnervingly quiet. The training grounds, usually echoing with the aggressive shouts of sparring warriors, are completely empty. The pathways between the pack houses are deserted, save for a few members who quickly avert their eyes and hurry inside when they see my car approach. My heart pounds violently against my ribs as I pull up to the main estate.

Gideon, the pack doctor, frantically intercepts me outside my parents' large home. He looks exhausted, his medical bag slung carelessly over his shoulder and dark, heavy circles framing his panicked eyes.

"Kaia, thank the Goddess you are finally here." Gideon gasps, rushing up to my car door before I can even fully step out.

"Gideon, what is going on? Why is the territory completely dead?" I ask, my pulse quickening at his frantic demeanor.

He runs a trembling hand through his thinning hair and delivers grim, terrifying news. "It is your twin sister. Nyla has been in a severe car accident and ended up crashing directly on Lycan territory. She is at the pack hospital now."

A cold panic seizes my chest. Despite Nyla being the absolute worst thing to ever happen to me—stealing my mate and my parents' love—I freeze in place. The thought of her bloodied and broken in a twisted pile of metal makes my stomach churn violently. I realize with a sickening jolt that despite everything, I still love my twin. We shared a womb. We share the same face.

"Is she going to survive?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"She is stable, but she is strictly confined to her room. Your parents have been frantically searching for you everywhere." Gideon explains, gesturing hurriedly toward the hospital.

A brief, foolish spark of hope ignites in my chest. Maybe they actually worried about my well-being. Maybe my unexplained disappearance made them realize I am their daughter too, and that they love me just as much as they love Nyla. I thank Gideon and force my leaden legs into a run, sprinting toward the hospital with my heart in my throat.

That pathetic hope shatters into a million jagged pieces the exact second I step into Nyla's hospital room.

"Where have you been? Do you know how long your sister has been waiting for a healer?" my father bellows at me.

His face is red with raw fury. He does not ask if I am okay. He does not ask why I look so pale and sickly. He only glares at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. I swallow the massive lump of hurt in my throat. I push past the exhaustion radiating through my bones and walk over to the hospital bed. Nyla is lying against the pillows, looking annoyed rather than injured.

I hold my hands over her body and channel my magic. Glowing golden light seeps from my palms, illuminating the sterile white room. I guide the warm energy over her skin, perfectly healing Nyla’s minor cuts and bruises. The magic drains my already depleted energy reserves, leaving my head spinning, but I finish the task without complaint. The golden light fades, leaving Nyla completely spotless.

But my magical exertion isn't enough for them.

"This is all your fault!" my mother shrieks.

She lunges forward, pointing an accusing finger directly at my face. "If you hadn’t made a ruckus about Caleb, Nyla would have never gotten upset and gone drunk driving. Not only did you land your sister in the hospital, we also have to deal with the desecration of Lycan territory!"

Rage, hot and blinding, erupts inside me. The sheer, unapologetic audacity of her accusation snaps the last thread of my patience.

"Nyla is an adult! I was the one cheated on, does no one care about my feelings?" I scream, my voice echoing off the hospital walls.

My father steps in front of my mother, his chest puffed out aggressively. He immediately accuses me of being a selfish cheater as well. "Do not play the victim here! Caleb saw you leaving the bar with another man right after you left this territory. You are completely selfish, Kaia. We did not raise you to be this shameful."

Furious and disgusted by their blatant hypocrisy, I turn to leave. I will not stand here and be verbally abused by the people who are supposed to protect me. I reach for the heavy wooden door handle, but my father's booming voice stops me dead in my tracks.

"You cannot leave! The ancient treaty with the Lycans has been broken!" he roars, his tone shifting from anger to absolute dread.

I freeze, my hand hovering over the doorknob. The Lycans are a fearsome, brutal race of massive shifters entirely capable of slaughtering our entire pack in a war. They are monsters of legend, towering over ordinary werewolves and possessing ten times our strength. Breaking a treaty with them is a guaranteed death sentence for the entire Evermore pack.

Shifting into my future alpha mindset, I push my personal fury down and face them. "We need to immediately arrange a diplomatic meeting and offer a substantial peace offering to pay for the damages Nyla caused. I will call the Beta and gather the treasury."

"It’s already too late for that," my mother whispers. Her voice trembles with pure terror, her eyes wide and bloodshot.

My father steps forward and delivers the crushing, catastrophic blow. "Nyla had hit a Lycan child while drunk driving. She left the child in critical, near-death condition."

My blood boils at Nyla's sheer, lethal recklessness. She hit a child. A Lycan child. The wrath of the Lycan King will rain down upon us like hellfire.

"Do you realize what she has done?" I demand, stepping toward the bed.

But my father merely doubles down, shifting the blame entirely onto my shoulders. "If you hadn’t skipped town... you could have healed the child! If you had never made Nyla feel bad in the first place, none of this would’ve happened!"

I stare at him, my mouth slightly open in complete disbelief. I am being blamed for a drunk driving accident I was not present for, simply because my sister felt guilty about sleeping with my mate.

Then comes the final, excruciating knife twist that stops my heart entirely.

My mother breaks down weeping, collapsing against the side of the hospital bed. "What if this affects her pregnancy?"

I stand frozen. The air is violently knocked from my lungs. The hospital room seems to tilt on its axis.

"Nyla is pregnant?" I whisper, the words barely making it past my lips.

My mother looks up at me, her face drenched in tears. "Yes! She is pregnant with Caleb’s child!"

Before my brain can even process the magnitude of this ultimate betrayal, before I can even fully grasp that my twin sister is carrying the child of the man I was supposed to marry, my father callously brushes my shock aside to permanently seal my fate. He looks at me with eyes devoid of any love, warmth, or hesitation.

"The Lycan king wants the woman who broke the treaty. Lycan enforcers will be here any minute to take your sister away and you have to stand in for her." he commands, his voice hard and uncompromising.

My blood runs completely cold. The betrayal cuts deeper than the moon sickness rotting my core. I stare in horror at the man who raised me. He is looking at me not as a daughter, but as a sacrificial lamb.

"Father, you’re going to trade my life for peace with the Lycan king?"