"Your sister needs a kidney. Give her yours."

Those were the first words he spoke to me after five years. Not an apology, but a death sentence. Damon Thorne, the man who severed our mate bond and threw me in prison, now stood before me on the day of my release, demanding I die for my sister Isabella.

My heart was born weak; a transplant would stop it for good. I refused. He forced me anyway. On the operating table, my heart finally gave out, just as I knew it would. They pronounced me dead. I heard Damon, the man who signed my death warrant, wept for days over my empty grave.

But I didn't die. I escaped and built a new life, a new love with his half-brother, the Alpha King Luke. When Damon saw me again, I was on Luke's arm, holding our five-year-old son's hand.
"I know I was wrong, please come back to me," he begged, his regret five years too late.
Luke pulled me behind him, his voice a low growl. "Get out. She is my one and only Luna."