After His 100th Betrayal, I Severed Our Fated Bond

I kept a ledger for my Alpha mate. Starting score: 100. One point deducted for every betrayal. When it hit zero, I'd be free.

The 99th time—a blizzard, twenty below, and he made me get out of the car. Pregnant.

"Victoria's in trouble."

That night, I miscarried while wolves tore into me.

The 100th time—the healer begged him on her knees to give blood to save our child.

He said, "Victoria comes first."

For a shallow scar on her knee, our baby died.

I set down my pen. Entry number 100. Final score: 0.

I closed the ledger, and the mate bond shattered, inch by inch.

Betrayal is never forgiven. Never forgotten.

And he would soon learn—abandoning the Daughter of the Moon Goddess was the same as lighting the fuse to his own destruction.

……

My husband pulled the car over and told me to get out.

I was his mate.

I was carrying his child.

And a blizzard was swallowing the highway.

Visibility less than ten feet. Temperature twenty below zero. Fifteen miles from pack territory.

"Victoria's been in an accident."

Kain Blackwood's eyes never left his phone. His voice was tight with that familiar urgency—the one he only ever had for her.

"I need to go get her."

Ten seconds ago, he'd still been driving. Ten seconds ago, we were on our way back from my mother's grave.

This was the first time he'd accompanied me in three years.

I should have known it wouldn't end well.

When he agreed this morning, I almost thought I'd misheard.

Three years of pack business.

Three years of Victoria’s not feeling well.

Three years of next time, I promise.

And today, Kain Blackwood, Alpha heir of the Shadow Wolf Pack, said: "I'll go with you."

My heart had skipped.

Maybe he finally remembered I was his mate.

Maybe three years of waiting hadn't been for nothing.

Maybe I was only fooling myself.

He stood three feet away the entire time at the cemetery. Hands in his pockets. Jaw tight—like grief might be contagious.

When I laid the white roses down, he checked his watch.

When I whispered the prayer, he was texting.

"Mom, I came to see you." My voice cracked. "Kain... Kain came too."

I looked back at him.

His fingers flew across the screen. He didn’t look up.

I swallowed the rest of my words.

Three years of excuses. And this was what "showing up" looked like.

"We should go." He pocketed his phone. "Storm's coming."

I nodded, taking one last look at my mother's headstone.

Next time, I promised silently. I'll bring your grandchild.

My hand moved instinctively to my stomach. The news confirmed just three days ago. I hadn't told him yet. I wanted to find the perfect moment—a time when he was in a good mood, when he'd be willing to look me in the eyes.

Maybe tonight.

Then his phone rang.

The screen lit up, that name searing into my retinas.

Victoria.

I watched him answer. Watched his expression transform in an instant.

"Kain!” Her voice trembled through the speaker—perfectly pitched fear. “My car skidded on the old mountain pass. I hit the guardrail. My knee won’t stop bleeding. I think—I think I can see bone—"

Gold flashed in his eyes.

His wolf surged awake.

For her.

He'd never looked like that for me. Not once. Not even on our mating night.

"Where are you?" His voice was urgent, strained, panicked in a way I'd never heard. "Exact location, tell me the exact location—"

"The old mountain pass... that sharp turn..." Her breathing hitched. “Please hurry. I’m so cold. I’m scared I’ll die out here alone."

The car jerked to a stop.

Inertia threw me forward. The seatbelt cut into my shoulder, right across my chest.

"Get out."

His voice was flat. Emotionless. Like saying "pass the salt."

I turned to look at him.

His eyes were fixed on the road ahead. Hands locked on the steering wheel. He’d already calculated the distance.

He'd already made his choice.

"Kain, there's a blizzard—"

"I said get out." He cut me off, impatience bleeding through. "I need to go save her."

Save her.

Of course.

"It's fifteen miles to pack territory." My voice was steady. Steadier than I expected. "Twenty below zero. I can't—"

"Call someone to pick you up."

"There's no signal."

"Then walk."

Then walk.

I stared at his profile. The face I'd loved for three years. The face I'd thought would be with me for life.

"Kain." I called his name one last time.

He finally turned.

I looked into his eyes. Those eyes I'd once drowned in.

No guilt.

Not a flicker of doubt.

Only urgency—to get to her.

I opened the door.

The wind hit like knives. Snow swallowed my boots. Cold burned straight through my bones, settling somewhere deep in my chest.

I stepped out.

“Kain.”

I don’t know why I said his name again.

Maybe to see if he'd look back. Maybe to give myself one last chance at disappointment.

He didn't look back.

The car drove away.

Taillights fading into white until they disappeared completely.

Like they'd never existed.

Like I'd never existed.

I stood on the roadside. Wind howling. Nothing but white between heaven and earth.

Ninety-nine.

The number surfaced from my heart, clear and cold.

This was the ninety-ninth time he'd abandoned me for Victoria.

I started walking.

The blizzard erased direction. Time blurred. My legs went numb. Ice clung to my lashes.

When I smelled the blood, it was already too late.

The scent cut through the blizzard—wild, dangerous, murderous.

Three rogue wolves emerged from the white void. Green eyes. Crusted fangs. Hunger rolling off them in waves.

I'd wandered into the forbidden territory.

They hit like a storm—teeth, claws, a blur of violence I couldn't track.

But I knew where they were aiming.

No.

I curled around my belly. Took the claws across my back. Took the teeth in my shoulders. Let them tear me apart from the outside.

Not the baby. Anything but the baby.

Blood soaked the snow. Red on white. The world tilted sideways.

I didn't let go.

Ninety-nine.

The ninety-ninth time he chose her over me.

Minus one point.

Only one point left on my ledger.

And inside me, I was still carrying his child.

Consciousness slipped away. Slow. Heavy. Like sinking into dark water.

I'm sorry, little one.

Mommy tried.

Your father should have been here.

But he never was.

He never would be.