I Became the Mate of My Deceased Husband's Twin BrotherChapter 1

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.