The Alpha Donated His Kidney to Make Sins

I'm Crystal Chase, the pampered only pup of the Chase pack, and after sifting through a whole litter of prospects, I bound myself to a wolf who might as well have been mute

Every message I fired off? He read it and ghosted me.

Every call I placed? Straight to voicemail, no pickup in sight.

That first year we were bound, I woke up in the dead of night burning up with a fever , barely clinging to consciousness as I rasped out voice memos to Preston Lewis, begging for help.

It wasn't until the housekeeper swung by the next morning to tidy up that she found me passed out cold and rushed me to the hospital.

That same night, Preston finally dragged himself home and coolly informed me he'd be crashing in the guest room, because I'd trashed the master bedroom in my delirium.

Year two of our bond, I was mugged on some foreign street, the blade so close to my throat I could feel the cold kiss of steel.

Terrified out of my mind, I dialed Preston, he was nearby, or so I thought screaming for him to come get me.

Ten calls. Nada.

A total stranger wolf ended up sticking by my side, getting me patched up at the healer's.

Five hours later, Preston rang me up, chewing me out for blowing off the pack banquet.

...

By year five, my ride's controls went haywire on the interstate, flipping me into a wreck that cost me my pup.

In the endless drone of that dead line, I felt the little life slipping away bit by bit, and that's when I finally snapped out of it for good.

I stumbled off the healer's table, grabbed a hammer from god-knows-where, stormed into Preston's office, and smashed his phone to smithereens. "If you can't check messages or pick up calls, what's the point of keeping the damn thing?"

Preston just stood there, cool as a winter frost, letting me rage like a cornered she-wolf.

Until a custom chime pinged from the wreckage, a special tone he'd set, and it cut off under my hammer's swing.

For the first time, a hairline crack split his icy calm. He snatched his keys and bolted down the stairs.

I hailed a ride and tailed him.

Half an hour later, his wheels pulled up to some swanky apartment complex.

In the blaze of midday sun, I spotted her: a she-wolf, cradling her swollen belly, easing out of the building unit with tiny steps, her face whiter than fresh snow.

From the side, she looked young.

Preston hustled over, let her sob out a few words, then scooped her up bridal-style, gentle as handling glass.

"The pup'll be fine, I swear. Don't worry..."

I gripped the cab window so hard my nails cracked, blood trickling warm and sticky.

Turns out, the wolf I'd shared a house with for five years could drop everything for a single ping.

He could wear worry on his face like it fit.

He could be that tender.

He could have... another she-wolf. And a pup.

I shook like a leaf in a gale, laughing through hot tears.

Of all days, the one where I lost my own pup, I had to witness this.

I floated home in a haze, face-planted on the bed.

That lost pup haunted my dreams, calling me "Mama" over and over. I kept whispering sorry, a thousand times not enough.

Then a vicious twist yanked me from wrist to soul, the dream-pup vanished, replaced by Preston's face, carved from glacial ice.

"Madeline lost her pup because you flipped out and pulverized my phone. I missed her message, couldn't make the arrangements."

His voice stayed even as a millpond, but his grip tightened like a vise, my wrist bones grinding on the edge of shatter.

I barked a laugh. "Lost? Good riddance. Why'd my pup have to go, but yours gets to stick around?"

Preston's stare pinned me, his mug twisting into something out of a nightmare.

After a beat, he lunged onto the bed, yanking at my clothes like a beast possessed. "You owe her a pup. Get knocked up and lose one to square it."

"Preston!" I howled, my heart a numb, throbbing void.

I'd said my pup, and he... hadn't even registered it.

My fingers brushing the fruit knife on the nightstand. I snatched it and drove it deep into his chest.

I hated him.

I wanted him gone.

But Preston didn't check out, just a shallow graze.

I dragged a pack mediator to the hospital for a quick glance.

He was deep in a holo-call with clients, not even a flicker my way-

Work came first, always. No interruptions allowed.

Then his nightstand phone chirped that special tone. He scooped it up, glanced, paused the meet, and hammered out a novel-length reply.

I caught the chat header: Madeline James.

My chest went hollow.

So this was Preston on high alert, blowing off a critical pack-wide summit without a second thought.

They texted for a solid ten minutes before the call limped back to life.

An hour later, it wrapped.

I seized my shot.

"Let's break the bond. You're the one who strayed,cut me a fat slice of the pack holdings to make it right."

Preston glanced up, those cold eyes flashing a rare spark of surprise.

"Madeline's pup isn't mine. I've never crossed that line with her,never will."

He pivoted sharp.

"But I'll move mountains to keep her safe. You lay a paw on her, and we're done."

That guarded glare stabbed straight through me.

"How long... why..."

"A year." He dodged the why, but fished a photo of Madeline from his billfold and slid it over.

Then, without another look, he scrawled his mark on the unbound papers.

"Hoping I actually see you in binding court a moon from now." The words dripped sarcasm, like I was some flighty pup.

I barely registered it, eyes locked on that billfold, boring holes through the leather.

Never once had it held my picture.

Finally, I dragged my gaze to her face. Stunned, I hauled in a breath.

"You will."

Preston figured I was bluffing about breaking the bond.

Probably chalked it up to habit me chasing his shadow.

After all, I'd stomached five years of firing off ten thousand messages into the void, zero echoes back.

But this time crystal clear.

I spun for the door.

He called after me, brow furrowed.

"That south-suburbs house you had your eye on? I deeded it to Madeline. The woods there make for prime air, perfect for her to recover after whelping."

I balled my fists, claws digging bloody crescents into my palms.

"I told you that house was my first gift to the pup. Even... even after she was gone."

No answer from behind.

I whipped around, Preston was glued to his phone, thumbs flying, me already yesterday's news.

I bolted from the hospital, legs pumping like I could outrun the whole rotten bond if I just put enough distance between us.

Safely in the cab, I pulled out the photo again, fingers quaking.

Eerily spot-on.

Madeline was the spitting image of Preston's dead first flame.

The one he'd truly wanted to bind with.

Five years back, the Lewis pack's funds had dried up like a bone yard.

Only the Chases tossed them a lifeline.

The catch? Weave our packs tighter with a sacred bond, bloodlines mingling deep.

I'd been mooning over Preston forever, and my sire, Gregory Chase, had sniffed it out ages ago. He figured it'd snag his pup's happiness, so he threw his weight behind it.

The packs met up quick-like.

I shot Preston starry-eyed looks.

He wanted to bind with the Chase pack's step-pup,

the one my dam's new mate had brought into the fold, Talia Lawson.

That's when I clocked it: they were head over heels for each other.

Blood's thicker than family, and risking the infusion for a step-pup? No dice.

Gregory yanked the offer and pulled me aside. "Crystal, true sparks make the best bonds. you won't burn yourself out chasing smoke."

I'd half-convinced myself to let go.

But Preston was desperate to save his pack, so he reached out solo, floating the idea of binding with me.

One quiet dinner, just us, and I was toast, daddy's advice out the airlock.

I strutted into it cocky as a queen: he'd switched tunes because he felt the pull toward me, and with my looks and fire, he'd fall hard eventually.

Our binding rite, Gregory bankrolled a blowout that turned heads across the great pack.

The kind of memory that should've bubbled up sweet as honey, any time I let it.

But the feast hadn't even cleared when word hit: Talia had ended it all. Bliss snuffed like a candle in the wind.

All I remember from that night is Preston's back vanishing through the hall doors, my dam's howls echoing off the walls, the pack's whispers buzzing like flies, and sire's eyes aching for me.

Our moon-hunt got scrapped.

Everything went paws-up.

First half-year bound, Preston just dodged messages, claimed he preferred voice hunts.

Once the Lewis pack clawed back on top, unstoppable as a blizzard?

Calls went unanswered too.

He turned into a bottomless pit.

I poured in my laughs, my rages, my everything, and got back zilch, not even an echo.

I shattered, tracked him down for a showdown.

Why?

He flung the binding day's chat logs in my face.

Talia had pinged him right before she checked out, but I'd been dragging him around for toasts, making him miss the save.

He loathed himself. And me.

Now he'd latched onto this eight-out-of-ten lookalike to dump his heart on-treating her like gold while I scraped for scraps.

I snapped back to the now, crumpled the photo into a tight ball, and chucked it. Then I eyed myself in the rearview-

Sallow as ash, fur a rat's nest, tangled wild.

A raving she-wolf, straight out of the funny house.

These five years, I'd clung to Preston like burrs on wool.

The more he stonewalled my messages, the more I bombarded him, hexed into forcing even one crumb of reply.

All I ever broke was me.

Crash after crash, howl after howl, then I'd patch myself up solo, alone.

I fished out my phone, punched in a number I hadn't touched in five moons. "That promise from five years back-does it still stand?"