The ritual began.
Agony, like a thousand knives stabbing my body simultaneously, coursed through me. I heard my own screams, felt my body being torn apart from the inside. Blood flowed from my nose, ears, and eyes.
In a daze, I thought I saw a golden light surge from my chest and fly towards Joanna. Her agonized roars merged with my screams.
Then… everything went dark.
After some unknown time, I awoke to the beeping of a heart monitor.
“You’re awake.”
I turned my head and saw Scott sitting by my bedside. He looked haggard, his eyes bloodshot.
“Joanna…” I managed hoarsely.
“She’s fine now,” Scott replied softly. “Thanks to you.”
I closed my eyes, feeling the weakness throughout my body. I could sense my life force had been greatly diminished; this was the price of offering my Life Source.
“Why did you do it?” he asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and some emotion I couldn’t decipher.
“This way, you don’t owe me anything,” I smiled. “You can be with Joanna with a clear conscience.”
Scott frowned. “The Shaman said you’ll need at least three months to fully recover. I was thinking… maybe I could take you to Seattle. They have the best human hospitals there. As… compensation.”
His offer pained my heart. Still the same pattern—guilt, not love.
“No need, Scott,” I said softly. “I plan to leave this place.”
“What?” He shot up from his seat.
“There are no more debts between us.” I looked him straight in the eye. “I wish you and Joanna happiness.”
Scott opened his mouth to say something, but his phone suddenly rang. He glanced at it, and his face changed. “It’s Joanna… she’s awake…”
“Go on,” I said, looking away.
He hesitated for a moment, then finally left.
After the door closed, I struggled to get up and change my clothes. The Shaman had already prepared everything for me—forged discharge papers, enough medication, and tonight’s bus ticket.
I left a letter for the Shaman to give to Scott:
“By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Don’t try to find me; this is my choice. I’ve fulfilled my mission. Be happy, Alpha.”
At 7 PM, I quietly slipped out of the pack’s medical center.
At 10 PM, when Scott stormed into my hospital room, only to find the empty bed, the Shaman handed him my letter.
And just at midnight, breaking news spread throughout the pack lands—a long-distance bus leaving town had lost control on a mountain road, crashed off a cliff, and burst into flames. On the passenger list, clear as day, was the name “Elena Miller.”
Due to the intensity of the fire, the bodies were severely burned and unrecognizable
