Chapter 5

Scarlett POV

I don't remember how I walked out of the mansion.

Only that the sunlight outside was blinding, yet held no warmth against my skin.

I went to the Pack's medical center.

It was more like a small clinic.

Since werewolves rarely needed extensive treatment, it was quiet and empty.

I registered, underwent some necessary exams, and finally found the doctor.

"Scarlett?"

The doctor, an older woman, pushed up her glasses, her gaze falling on my report. Her brows immediately drew together.

"Your condition is very dangerous. You have an incomplete miscarriage, with retained tissue, and you've got a wolf venom infection. You need surgery immediately."

Surgery.

I knew what that meant.

Cold instruments probing my body, scraping away that unformed blood clot, along with all my hopes for the past.

"I won't have surgery."

I heard my own calm voice. "Just give me some strong painkillers."

The doctor looked up sharply, staring at me as if I were insane.

"Are you trying to die? This kind of infection is very hard to heal on its own, and it will harm your wolf..."

She paused, pointing to the alarmingly low number on the lab report. "Are your wounds healing slower recently? And has your wolf been responding less?"

I instinctively pulled down my sleeve, covering the bruise on my wrist.

It was from Jackson's grip yesterday, still not healed.

Normally, it would disappear quickly.

"I know what I'm doing."

I stood up, didn't wait for the doctor to say more, and walked out of the examination room.

Only I knew that this body was broken.

It couldn't be fixed.

Even if I fixed this, there would be something else waiting for me.

Rather than let my wolf and I endure this torment, I'd rather finish these last few days with dignity.

While picking up my medication, the wall-mounted TV in the lobby was broadcasting news from the werewolf world.

"Frostveil Pack's Alpha Jackson attends Full Moon Gala with a mystery lady, spending millions on a pink diamond necklace..."

On screen, Jackson stood tall in a perfectly tailored formal suit.

Phoebe clung to his arm, the shimmering pink diamond necklace adorning her neck, smiling blissfully.

The reporter's microphone was practically shoved into their faces.

"Mr. Jackson, is this lady your mate?"

Jackson didn't deny it, only looking down at Phoebe, his eyes so tender they could drip honey.

"She is the most important person to me."

Many in the lobby were watching, some envious, some gasping.

No one remembered that I was the true Luna.

I stood behind the crowd, clutching a bag of painkillers, a bitter taste of bile in my mouth.

The most important person.

Then what was I?

Five years of shared life, I stood by him from Alpha heir to true Alpha.

To garner support, I fought alongside him until I collapsed from exhaustion; to care for his ailing mother, I stayed by her bedside for three months, missing my own mother's final moments.

In the end, I was just an invisible person, not even worthy of a name.

I lowered my head, popping a pill into my mouth. I swallowed it dry, without water.

The rough tablet scraped my throat, leaving a burning pain.

But this pain felt good.

At least it reminded me that I was still alive.