Natalie’s POV I froze when I saw the caller ID; my stomach twisted into a knot. It was the Witch Doctor. Why was he calling? Our business ended five years ago. I’d paid my price—a rib, carved out from under my heart to save Jensen’s life. The deal was done; we were supposed to be done. We shouldn’t have any contact. My hand immediately went to my side, to the spot where the ghost of that rib still ached when it rained, when I was tired, and when I remembered. I hit ‘decline’ fast. “Spam,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Probably a scam.” Jensen glanced over and nodded, buying it. Lately, there’d been warnings about fraud calls trying to get pack secrets. “If scammers have your number, it’s not safe. I’ll have Felix get you a new phone tomorrow.” Before I could answer, his own phone rang. And it wasn’t the ringtone he used for pack business; it was from a different phone. He looked at me, guilt flashing across his face. He fumbled, rejecting the call. “That’s Felix, probably packing business. I’ll take it outside.” He didn’t wait for me to respond; he just hurried out of the room. My eyes went to my phone on the table; it was still connected to the old comms speaker in the main room. Jensen thought it was just for music; he didn’t know it could listen. I had never spied before; it felt wrong. But after hearing that ringtone, I didn’t care about ‘wrong’ anymore. I had to know what he was doing. I opened the app on my phone and turned the volume low. The screen showed the living room. There he was, by the window, phone to his ear. He was staring outside, not noticing the charm I made was gone. That made something in my break more. His voice was soft and gentle. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.” Sharon’s voice came through, sounding sweet and fake. “Jensen, you’re the best. Hey… The Alpha Conclave is tomorrow for the treaty signing. Can I come? I heard the Keeper finalized it. It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the Keeper.” Jensen paused. “I’m not—” “Oh, come on. Don’t lie!” she laughed. “Everyone knows the Keeper’s work is why the pack is so strong now. It has to be you.” My chest tightened; every document I translated, every long night, every headache… was for him. For the pack. For the man whose life I’d bought with a piece of my own body. Jensen was quiet. Sharon’s voice went sad. “Jensen… I always wanted to learn the Old Tongue. But I never got the chance. And now, with me being sick… Since we’re bonded… Could you let me be the Keeper tomorrow? Just for the day? I want to know what that respect feels like. Before… you know… I’m gone.” My hand clenched; she wanted to steal my name. My work. The identity I’d earned with pain and silence and a missing rib. Jensen hesitated, glancing toward my room. Then he sighed. “Okay,” he whispered. “Tomorrow. I’ll tell them you’re the Keeper.” “I love you!” she squealed. A wave of coldness washed over me. He knows I’m the Keeper. He knows. He knows what I gave up for him. And still, a few sad words from Sharon, and he just gave it away. Like my rib, my pain, and my silence, meant nothing. This is what his real loyalty looks like. I cut the connection. I could barely breathe. If he was going to just hand my life’s work to her… Fine. I would take it back myself. I called the Witch Doctor’s number back. It rang three times. He answered. His voice was flat and creepy. “You hung up on me. Changed your mind? Want me to take Jensen’s other rib now? I still have the first one, you know. It remembers you.” A chill went through me. I saw it in my head sometimes—my rib, clean and white, on a shelf somewhere in his dark hut. “I don’t care what you want,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Help me tomorrow. I’ll agree to anything after.” A low laugh. “Five years ago, you traded a rib for a man’s life. You said you’d die for love. What changed?” “Deal or not?” I hissed. I had nothing else to trade but my future. And right now, that seems cheap. “Deal,” he said. I told him exactly what I needed, and then I hung up. Jensen walked back in, avoiding my gaze. “Natalie. You can’t come to the Conclave tomorrow.” I looked up. “Why?” I looked hard at the man I had loved for five years. The man who was healed because of a piece of me. Something inside me finally broke completely. Jensen finally met my eyes. “The Keeper’s identity is a secret. It’s for safety. Stay here. After tomorrow, I’ll make it up to you.” He walked out. My eyes burned. My fists were so tight my nails dug into my skin. Five years. My rib—a complete waste to him. My phone chimed. A message from the Witch Doctor. It was an official invitation to the Conclave—a high-level one. Sharon wanted my glory? Let’s see if she could steal it from me when I was standing right there. I didn’t sleep that night. The next morning, I put on my dark grey scholar’s tunic, braided my hair, and went to the Conclave Lodge. First thing I saw: Sharon, stuck to Jensen’s side, smiling like she’d won. Jensen was looking at her with soft, warm eyes. The kind of look he had never, ever given me. That look was real. I had been a fool. A cold smile touched my lips as I walked in. A few heads turned. A wolf-less woman walking into an Alpha Conclave was weird. Jensen turned and saw me. His face went instantly white with shock and anger. He shoved Sharon away and quickly stormed over, grabbing my wrist hard… That would definitely leave a scar. “What are you doing here?” he whisper-yelled. “Who told you to come?”