Seven Days: Forgetting My Cruel Mate

I wasted five whole years of my youth chasing Gerald Darkmoor, the Alpha heir of the Darkmoor Pack.

On the very day I was supposed to marry him, standing there in my white bridal gown, I accidentally overheard a conversation between Gerald and his friend.

"Gerald, are you really going to marry Elowen?" his friend asked, sounding skeptical.

A dark shadow crossed Gerald's eyes.

"Of course. The Wardens' Concord has been breathing down our pack's neck. And since Sylara is carrying my pup, the Concord elders are furious with me. Marrying Elowen is the perfect way to pacify them."

"Aren't you worried Elowen will find out about your affair and go after Sylara?"

"No. She is madly in love with me. She'll keep my secret."

"She's soft and easy to control. As long as I marry her, the Darkmoor Pack will be temporarily safe from a Concord purge, and Sylara will be out of danger." 

My entire world collapsed in that instant.

In my daze, I wandered off, was ambushed, and severely injured.

When I finally woke up from the coma, I remembered everyone. Everyone except Gerald.

So, when Lord Vale, the leader of the Wardens' Concord, sent a rune-message asking me to return for a political marriage, I immediately arranged for an escort convoyseven days later. 

I stood by the window, packing my hunting gear piece by piece into my rune-woven pouch.

Lenora stared at me in disbelief. "Elowen, are you really going back for this arranged marriage?"

I didn't even look up, my hands never stopping. "Yeah. The escort convoy is set to leave in seven days."

Lenora hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "Can you really bear to leave this place? To leave... my cousin?"

I frowned, a sudden wave of inexplicable annoyance washing over me.

"I have absolutely no memory of this cousin of yours. Why would I miss him? Was I that in love with him?"

Lenora dug through the cabinet, pulled out a thick hunter's journal, and shoved it into my hands.

"You were dangerously obsessed with him! This journal records the last five years—your entire history of chasing him!"

I flipped through the journal.

A dull ache spread across my chest, like an invisible boulder was pressing down on my lungs.

The pages were filled with the agony of 999 blood-oath offerings, and 999 cold rejections. And after every single rejection, a third name always appeared: Sylara.

Lenora sighed, her tone complicated. "Sylara is his precious treasure. His so-called first love."

I snapped the journal shut, feeling the heavy pressure in my chest finally lift.

"Why would I pine over an Alpha heir who rejected me 999 times? Besides, I'm going back to marry a pureblood of the Whitewood Clan."

"What rejection? What marriage?" a freezing voice demanded from behind me.

I turned around. A tall, imposing man leaned against the doorframe.

His sharp eyes locked onto me, dressed in the dark, luxurious leathers of the pack's elite.

It was Gerald.

His eyes were icy, his voice dripping with mockery. "Elowen, what kind of hard-to-get game are you playing this time?"

Lenora rushed to explain. "Cousin, Elowen has..." 

Before she could say the word amnesia, she was cut off. 

"I wasn't asking you." Gerald glared at me sharply. "Elowen, I've already agreed to take you as my bride. Don't pull any tricks behind my back, and don't even think about harassing Sylara."

His tone allowed no argument. "Get ready. You're coming with me to the Border Winter Market."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Sylara is pregnant. Her emotions are all over the place." A rare hint of softness slipped into his voice. 

"I'm going to buy her some little trinkets to cheer her up. She doesn't have an official title by my side yet. If she goes there alone with me, people will gossip. But if I bring you along, they'll keep their mouths shut."

I froze, and then a rush of anger shot straight to my head. "You bastard, I don't go!"

Gerald clearly didn't expect me to refuse. He paused for a second, then his eyes grew even colder. He strode over, grabbed my wrist tightly, and dragged me toward the door.

The wounds on my back hadn't fully healed. The sudden, violent pull tore them open, sending a sharp, ripping pain through my body.

Blood began to seep through my clothes.

"Gerald!" a soft, sickly-sweet voice called out.

A female wolf strolled in, wearing a flowing white dress. Her skin was much paler than Gerald's. She rested a hand gently on her stomach, wearing a meek, gentle smile. 

It was Sylara.

The moment Gerald saw her, his pupils shrank.

He immediately threw my hand away and hurried over to her. 

Tossed aside so roughly, my lower back crashed into the sharp corner of a heavy wooden table. The blinding pain left me breathless and speechless.

Lenora gasped and rushed over to support me. "Elowen! Elowen, are you okay?"

Gerald acted as if I didn't exist. He reached Sylara's side, his voice dripping with absolute tenderness. "Sylara, why did you come out here? Is our baby making you uncomfortable?"

Sylara’s gaze swept over me without leaving a trace, a flicker of smugness hiding in her eyes.

Then, she leaned weakly against Gerald's chest, playing the fragile victim. 

"My morning sickness has been awful lately, and my legs are swollen. I missed you, so I just wanted to see you."

Hearing this, Gerald's face filled with heartache. He scooped her up into his arms and started to walk out.

Seeing the fresh blood seeping through my back, Lenora finally couldn't hold back. She yelled at Gerald's retreating figure. 

"Gerald! Elowen is your fiancée! How can you treat her like this for an outsider?!"

Gerald stopped in his tracks. In his arms, Sylara clenched her jaw, a flash of viciousness in her eyes. 

"It's all my fault," she whimpered softly. "I'm following you without a proper title, causing you to be judged with me..."

Gerald immediately set Sylara down gently on a nearby sofa. Then, he spun around, marched right up to me, and slapped me hard across the face.

Smack!

The crisp sound echoed through the room. My head spun, and my ears rang loudly.

Gerald shook his wrist, his eyes freezing cold. "I thought you knew your place, but you're just as vicious as the rest of them."

"Elowen, I'm warning you. If you dare manipulate Lenora again, I'll slap you until you learn your lesson!"

He looked down at me like I was an insect. "The day after tomorrow, eight o'clock at night. The Central Watchtower. Don't make me wait!"

With that, he didn't spare me another glance. He picked Sylara back up and left without looking back.

Tears streamed down Lenora's face. She supported me carefully, terrified of touching the wounds on my back. Her voice choked with sobs. "Elowen, I'm so sorry... I..."

I gripped the sofa. I gave her a weak smile. "It's not your fault, Lenora."

Lenora helped me sit down, stomping her foot in pure anger. 

"That arrogant bastard! No wonder you remembered everyone else but forgot him! He deserves it! Elowen, go through with the Blood-Bond Treaty! I fully support you marrying out of this pack! Let that piece of trash regret this forever!"

I let out a bitter laugh. The wounds on my back burned like fire, making me wince in pain. 

But deep down, my heart was strangely calm.

Even though I was still his fiancée and had to play along for now, it was time to make my own plans. 

I only had to endure this for seven more days. 

In seven days, I would start a brand-new journey of my own.