Isla's POV
I’m Isla Thatcher, a hunter skilled at gathering rare herbs in the most dangerous places. For years, I've risked my life for the pack, venturing into rogue-infested territories. It’s a life I chose, one I’m skilled at. But the real battle? That’s with Bryce Pierce, the adopted son of Alpha Rowan, one of our pack’s healers, and my chosen mate—though our bond remains a secret. But there's always been a shadow between us—Lucia Bardot, his late master's daughter. She’s like a storm cloud that never drifts away, hovering over every moment we spend together.
I tolerated her presence for years, telling myself that Bryce’s care for her was born from obligation, not love. Lucia had no one else, and I convinced myself it was only compassion that kept him so close to her. But today, I learned the hard way just how wrong I’d been.
We were on a mission deep in Evergreen Mountain, searching for precious herbs, when the rogues came—vicious, relentless. I fought like hell as the best warrior of our group, but we were outnumbered. I protected what I could, but not without a price—deep cuts bled freely, and my leg snapped under the weight of battle. The pain was blinding, but I kept fighting until there was nothing left in me.
We barely made it back to the pack, battered and broken. As I was rushed to the infirmary, I mindlinked Bryce over and over, needing him more than ever. But all I got was silence.
My heart clenched with worry—was something wrong? When we finally arrived, the answer hit me like a punch to the gut.
Through the window of one of the infirmary rooms, I saw Bryce bent over Lucia, healing a severe burn on her arm. His face was filled with concern, and I could almost feel the weight of his hands on her skin, hands that should’ve been healing me. His attention was so consumed with her that he didn’t even notice my scent. My bloodied, broken self didn’t seem to matter.
Anger burned hotter than my wounds as I texted him.
[Isla: So, you're with her—that’s why you’re ignoring me.]
An hour passed before he called. By then, exhaustion had dulled the edges of my rage. I answered, hoping for an explanation. But his voice was cold, dripping with frustration.
“What now, Isla?” His tone was sharp. “Lucia was in an accident, she’s scared. Don’t twist things with your dirty assumptions. If I was really interested in her, why did I choose you to be my chosen mate instead of her?”
His words cut deeper than any rogue’s claws. My leg throbbed painfully beneath its cast, but the ache in my chest was worse.
“I’m hurt too, Bryce,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m at the infirmary—”
“Bryce,” a soft voice called from his end. “I forgot to grab a towel. Can you bring me one? I’m already undressed.”
It was like my heart stopped upon hearing Lucia's voice. They were back at the pack house together, and he hadn't even told me.
My hand tightened around the phone as Bryce rushed to explain, “I’m just helping her, Isla. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d overreact. So please, stop this drama.”
Dramatic. That’s what he thought of me. I bit back the wave of emotions rising in my throat and replied, flatly, "Right. I’m the one being dramatic."
Bryce sighed in frustration. “What’s the point of this now? You know I’m busy.”
And with that, he hung up. I stared at the phone in disbelief. I had fought for my life and endured unbearable pain, and the person I trusted most dismissed me as if I were nothing.
The next day, while the world spun into my fevered dreams, Bryce showed up at the infirmary, all apologies and excuses.
“I didn’t know you were really hurt,” he said, staring at my cast. “I thought you were joking—your group's the best, after all.”
His fingers brushed my forehead gently as if his touch could heal the chasm that had opened between us. “Does it hurt?”
Before, that simple gesture would’ve melted my heart. But today, I couldn’t muster the strength to care.
“No,” I lied flatly.
He frowned, probably sensing the distance. "I know you hate pain. What do you want to eat? I'll bring it for you later," he offered, smiling.
It was a half-hearted attempt to make up for abandoning me. But before I could reply, the door swung open. Lucia breezed in, her arm slipping around Bryce with an ease that made my stomach turn.
“Bryce, I need your help again,” she purred, glancing at me in mock surprise. “Oh, Isla! You really broke your leg? How careless of you. Bryce must be devastated.”
I wanted to scream, but I swallowed it down, refusing to let her see me break.
“I’ll visit you later, okay?” Lucia continued, her voice sugary sweet. “But I need to borrow Bryce now. You don’t mind, right?”
I bit down the bile rising in my throat. “No, I don’t mind.”
Before they went, Bryce repeated his offer, "I know the food here isn't that good. I’ll bring you some food later, alright? Rest up. Gotta go now."
But as the hours passed and my hunger grew, it became clear he’d forgotten.
Later that evening, I overheard the healers chatting outside my room.
"Lucia's really lucky. She has Bryce to cook for her. I'm so envious!"
"True! And it's not just some random wolf, huh, it's Bryce!"
The tears came without warning, burning my eyes as I stared at the ceiling. Bryce, who’d always prided himself on using his hands only for healing, had refused my simple requests in the past. He’d said cooking was beneath him. But now, he was cooking for Lucia.
It was then I realized something painful: I’d always been second to her.
Chapter 2Isla's POV
Tired of waiting for the food Bryce promised, I endured the infirmary food. Waiting for him felt like a waste of time, and I wasn’t going to let myself starve.
Soon after, my group leader, Millie Hansley, arrived with herbal medicines. "Isla, I know Evergreen Mountain is dangerous, but you're still coming on this mission, right?" she asked, hopeful. Millie knew about my bond with Bryce, unlike most, and I considered her a sister.
Bryce had always tried to keep me from dangerous missions, but I wasn’t giving up this time. My dream was to explore and protect the wilderness, but I had pushed that aside for Bryce. Over the years, I centered my life around him, while he placed Lucia above me, always with some excuse about honoring his late master’s wishes.
"Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you guys," I replied firmly.
Millie's face lit up. “That’s the spirit! There’s still so much we haven’t discovered on Evergreen Mountain. I heard there are rare herbal plants in the untouched areas. We’ll make sure to find them.”
She knew exactly how to fire me up. My passion for gathering herbs had always been a driving force, a reason I became a hunter in the first place. This mission was my chance to reclaim a piece of myself I had long set aside.
Millie was about to continue when Bryce entered the room, empty-handed. I knew he had forgotten his promise of bringing me food.
Noticing him, Millie quickly excused herself.
Bryce walked over, a familiar scowl on his face. “Do you have any idea how dangerous Evergreen Mountain is? Why must you be so stubborn and make others worry about you?"
I met his gaze, my glowing yellow eyes narrowing. "Worried about me? You were busy flirting with Lucia while we were under attack by rogues. What right do you have to lecture me now?" My voice was cold, biting. The anger that had simmered for days finally surfaced.
I saw his eyes turn red, but I didn’t wait for a reply. I turned my back to him, lying down on the infirmary bed. Just a few seconds later, I heard the door being slammed so hard. He was probably angry too, but as if I care.
Days passed without any sign of him. The silence didn’t bother me as much as it once would have. I had learned the hard way that Bryce only cared about me when it was convenient for him.
I was busy reviewing the details of our upcoming mission when his voice suddenly echoed in my mind through a mindlink.
'My friend asked me out tonight. I’ll be late. I’ll come by after.'
But as if I heard nothing, I continued what I was doing. Besides, it always happened, so it was not something to discuss.
He was Alpha Rowan's adopted son. People fawned over him, constantly trying to get close. And I, the ordinary she-wolf, was supposed to feel lucky that he even noticed me. At least, that’s what everyone kept telling me.
Moments later, his voice returned through the mindlink, more insistent this time.
'It’s just a few buddies, all guys.'
Then, he sent me a picture of his friends, which he had never done before. They were indeed all male. But what did it matter now? He’d never introduced me to any of his friends. That alone told me everything.
Sighing, I switched my phone to silent and lay down, trying to rest. When I woke up, I noticed more than a dozen missed calls. Bryce’s name flashed across the screen. Frowning, I answered, bracing myself for whatever storm he was about to unleash.
“Why weren’t you answering?!” His voice was sharp, laced with irritation.
“I was asleep,” I replied, rubbing my eyes, too tired to care.
"I’ve already explained everything to you. I didn’t know you were hurt. Lucia was terrified that night—I couldn’t leave her! And now, you’re sulking again. You’re not a pup anymore, Isla. Why do you always get so jealous?" His words hit me like a slap, though I wasn’t sure why they still had the power to sting. I wasn’t angry. I was just done caring.
Sure, before, every time he went somewhere with his buddies, I couldn't relax. It was because his friends loved to play around. Back then, I was always worried, frequently calling to check on him. But all I got was Bryce's disgust. He would always say, “What is it again, Isla? Can't you stop being so clingy?” If not that, it was, “Isla, do you enjoy following people around like a lost pup?”
Back then, I was too afraid of losing him the reason I acted like that. But what I would never forget was when he told me, “It's so hard to be with you, Isla!”
Brushing off my thoughts, I sighed heavily and calmly replied, “I’m not jealous."
A sigh echoed through the phone, as if he was trying to control his temper. "I’ve drunk too much tonight. Sorry," he mumbled, softer now.
Having nothing to say, I didn't reply.
After a long silence, Bryce repeated, “I've drunk too much.”
Hearing no response from me, Bryce finally hung up the phone. He had drunk too much, and did he expect me, with my injured leg, to go pick him up? He had friends to take care of him tonight. He didn’t need me.
Chapter 3Isla's POV
The day I was discharged, Bryce arrived earlier than expected. It made sense—he was a healer after all—but something felt different. His presence was almost... attentive. He insisted on helping me, taking my things, and offering to drive me home, as though he suddenly remembered how to care.
As we walked through the hallways, his colleagues passed us with curious glances, probably thinking something was happening between us. In the past, this might have moved me to tears. Now, I felt nothing. The love I once had for him had faded, replaced by a hollow emptiness. He was still as handsome as ever, but it no longer mattered.
As we reached the car, I opened the door to slide into the passenger seat—only to see Lucia already sitting there, carefree as ever, licking an ice cream cone.
My hand froze on the handle.
“Just sit in the back, it’s the same,” Bryce said casually, opening the door for me as if this was how it always had been.
I slipped inside without a word, keeping my gaze fixed out the window. Lucia turned and grinned at me, her lips sticky with melted ice cream. "Bryce picked me up earlier and I happened to sit here. I'm too lazy to move. You don't mind, right?"
“It’s fine. Just a seat,” I muttered, my eyes drifting to the melting ice cream in her hand. Bryce never let me eat in his car—something about keeping it clean and free of smells. Yet here she was, effortlessly breaking his rules.
"You eat like a child. You’ve got ice cream all over your mouth," Bryce remarked, reaching over to wipe Lucia's mouth.
Lucia giggled. “Oops! It’s not my fault ice cream tastes so good.”
I stared at the road ahead, willing myself to feel nothing. But the tightness in my chest betrayed me. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take of this.
Just as I thought we were heading home, Bryce turned the car toward a small café.
“Lucia wanted to treat you,” he explained. “She feels bad about everything that happened.”
Lucia jumped out of the car, pulling me along. “Come on, Isla! Let’s get something sweet. My treat!”
I resisted the urge to pull away and bear with her, thinking it would only take a few minutes.
"These were all Bryce's favorite," Lucia mentioned as she ordered.
But I was shocked when a plate of chocolates and sweet pastries came to our table. Bryce had always refused to eat sweets around me, reasoning his low tolerance for chocolate. Now, Lucia was telling me Bryce loved it? The thought lingered bitterly in my mind. Suddenly, I found myself asking, “You’re a fan of chocolate now, Bryce?”
Lucia beamed. “He always eats chocolate with me! Isn’t that right, Bryce?”
Bryce didn’t meet my gaze, focusing instead on wiping his hands with a napkin. It was clear: with Lucia, he had no limits. With me, there were only restrictions. My appetite vanished completely, replaced by a bitter realization.
"You guys eat. I'm not hungry," I said abruptly, standing to leave. The pain in my injured leg flared, but I didn’t care. I needed to get out.
“Isla, wait—” Bryce followed me outside, frustration seeping into his voice. “You don’t have to make a scene over something so trivial.”
“Trivial?” I stopped in my tracks, turning to face him. “You lie, you break your own rules, and then you expect me to just swallow it all? To be okay with being second place—always?”
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “Isla, have you had enough? You’re being dramatic over nothing.”
His frustration was palpable, but it didn’t matter. I’d heard enough. Without another word, I turned my back on him and limped away, leaving both him and Lucia behind in that suffocating café.
I arrived home late, the house eerily quiet. I busied myself with tidying up, trying to shake the image of Bryce and Lucia laughing together. Eventually, exhaustion overtook me, and I collapsed into bed, the events of the day swirling in my mind.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I felt a presence beside me. A gentle kiss pressed to my forehead and I heard a soft sigh. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know it was Bryce. But even in sleep, his touch couldn’t reach me anymore. Not like it used to.
The next morning, I woke to the smell of breakfast. I stumbled downstairs, surprised to see the table covered with food—eggs, bacon, toast, fruit—more than I’d ever seen Bryce make before.
He was standing by the stove, watching me with a hopeful look. “Are you hungry? I didn’t know what you’d want, so I made a little bit of everything.”
I sat down, picking at the food without much enthusiasm. Bryce hovered nearby, clearly waiting for me to say something.
After a long silence, he cleared his throat. “I was thinking… maybe we could have dinner with my parents this weekend?”
The words caught me off guard. Our relationship had always been a secret, something we kept hidden from the pack, from his family. And now he wanted to introduce me to them?
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said finally, my voice void of emotion.
I was planning to reject him soon, so what was the need to meet his parents now? Besides, I didn't want to return to that disgusting place ever again!