I licked at Andrew’s rotting wounds, tasting a bitterness more unbearable than death itself—these gaping gashes through his back, clearly the result of a fatal blow meant for a fellow warrior. 

Before he died, he was still smiling. “Mom, do you think Dad will be proud of me? I protected the pack like he taught me…” 

His memories tore through my mind, like a final howl of a wolf unwilling to be misunderstood by his father. 

Today, he earned an A in the warrior training camp competition—the only A. He had planned to go home and show it off to his Alpha father, but on the way, he received a cry for help from Lucas. 

Though he and Lucas weren’t on the best terms, Andrew still chose to go rescue him, only for Lucas to stab him with silver nails. 

Though it was Andrew’s memory, I could feel his pain—silver could pierce through our healing abilities, and even the strongest werewolves could only watch helplessly as their blood drained away. 

Lucas and his companions laughed nearby, mocking the only A in the training camp, calling it “nothing special.” 

I can’t imagine how desperate Andrew must have felt, in the dark forest where the moonlight never reached, surrounded by his so-called “comrades” showing their sharp fangs! 

He was trapped in a silver trap, awaiting death. 

But my Inner Wolf sensed Andrew’s faint presence. Following his scent, I found the dark forest but saw my mate, Anthony, walking out with Lucas in his arms. 

Lucas only had a scratch on his shoulder from a silver blade, yet Anthony was panicking, ordering Beta to give Lucas a special treatment channel. 

But when I begged him to come with me to find Andrew, he abandoned me in the forest. 

“Lucas is hurt! I’m taking him back to treat him. If you want to find Andrew, go find him yourself! That coward ran off long ago, probably hiding somewhere waiting for you to nurse him back to health!”