What My Caring Sister Sent Me

I had just gotten out of prison after three years, and my family already wanted me to go back in.

My mate, Everett Vance, stood in front of me with his arms crossed. His expression was cold—nothing like the man who once swore to protect me.

"Dahlia got into some trouble," he said flatly. "She hit someone at a dinner party. The victim's family is pressing charges. Three days in detention."

He pulled out a document—a formal request to dissolve our mate bond.

"If you won't do this for her, then sign this." His voice was steady. "I'll sever our bond completely. Dahlia has been by my side for three years while you were gone. Maybe it's time I made things official with her."

My heart stopped.

He didn't know. None of them knew.

The prison doctor had told me before my release. My organs were failing. Years of something—poison, he suspected—had destroyed me from the inside. The only reason I was still breathing was the mate bond.

"Stay close to your mate," the doctor had warned. "The bond is the only thing keeping you alive now. Without it, you have weeks. Maybe less."

Everett thought he was threatening my heart. He didn't realize he was threatening my life.

When I refused, my mother's head snapped toward me.

"Three years ago, you dragged this family through hell," she spat. "You humiliated us. Dahlia spent three months in detention for your father—three months—while you rotted away for your own mess. And now she asks for three days, and you refuse?"

"She's always been like this," my father said. His health had been declining for years, and the disappointment in his eyes made him look even older. "Only thinks about herself."

Everett stepped closer. "I used to defend you, Wren. I told everyone you weren't as bad as they said. But maybe I was wrong."

I looked at him—the man who once said he could tell me apart from Dahlia with a single glance. The man who chose me when everyone else overlooked me.

Now he couldn't even look me in the eye.

But what did it matter?

If I refused, he would sever our bond. I would die.

If I agreed, I would spend three days away from him. I would also die.

Either way, I was already dead.

"Fine," I said. "I'll do it."

The tension in the room broke instantly.

My mother exhaled. "Good. You're finally learning."

"When you get out," my father added, "we'll talk about letting you help with the pack business again. Small tasks. But it's a start."

Even Everett's expression softened. "I'll hold onto this." He tucked the dissolution papers away. "We can discuss things when you're back."

I almost laughed.

They were already planning for "after." As if there would be an after for me.

"You're doing the right thing," my mother said, her tone shifting. "When you come back, I'll make dinner. We can eat together. Like a family."

I stared at her. This was the warmest she had been to me since I walked out of that prison.

Three years ago, she had slapped me and called me a disgrace. For three years, she never visited—not once. And now, because I agreed to take the fall, she was offering to cook for me.

Their kindness came so easily—the moment I became useful to my sister.

I wondered if they'd feel any guilt when I didn't come back at all.

Dahlia emerged from the hallway, dabbing at her eyes. She hugged me tight.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I knew you'd come through."

When she pulled back, her eyes met mine for just a second. Cold. Satisfied.

Then she turned to our parents, and they gathered around her—stroking her hair, telling her everything would be okay now.

Everett moved to stand beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder.

The four of them stood together in the warm light of the living room.

I watched from the doorway.

A perfect picture of a loving family.

And I was just the shadow they'd already forgotten.