“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.