Four years is a long time to be without someone you were meant to be with, by the gods. The pain from when he uttered those words still lingers: "I, John Price, reject you, Autumn, as my fated mate." It felt as if your soul had been ripped from your chest, and your heart was crushed and shattered into millions of pieces. He broke you effortlessly, as if you meant nothing to him. To make matters worse, he had held you in his arms just the night before, only to toss you aside like you were worthless, never explaining. To complicate things further, you had his pup, but you ensured he would never know. After being rejected, you ran and made damn sure you would never be found again.

For four years, John couldn't get you out of his mind. You were his perfect match, everything he had ever wanted in a partner. Yet, out of fear, pure, heartbreaking terror—he rejected you. You made him feel weak, vulnerable, and complete, and that scared him to his core. As the Alpha King of London and the Captain of Task Force 141, he believed he couldn't afford to be soft or weak. It hurt him deeply, but he convinced himself it was necessary. That was his reasoning, anyway

However, what he didn't realize was that he would be cursed for rejecting you. Over the last four years, it has been a gradual decline, a slow deterioration. It didn’t happen overnight. It began with his body growing weaker. He initially attributed it to the exhaustion of his duties, but over time, he became more susceptible to illnesses. He caught colds easily, experienced stomach bugs, and found himself tiring more quickly, like an aging old man. At the start of this year, Ghost pointed out that he could no longer lift as much weight as he used to. Not only that, but his control over others diminished as well. His once-commanding presence faded, resembling that of any other wolf, rather than the powerful Alpha King he once was. His wolf was weakening, very slowly....and he could not have that. Though it was not just him, it was his entire pack and team.

Today, he summoned his best healer to figure out what was happening with him. The healer examined him thoroughly, both externally and internally, using whatever techniques healers employed to understand a person's condition. After hours of being poked, prodded, and scrutinized like a lab rat, he finally had the opportunity to sit down and rest.

With a weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world, he sank heavily into a worn leather chair, the fabric cool against his skin. It felt as though he had just returned from an arduous battle, his body aching and his spirit drained. The flickering candlelight danced around the dimly lit room, casting shadows that mirrored his inner turmoil.

At that moment, the healer, an ancient figure draped in layers of flowing robes, fixed him with a piercing gaze. Her voice, grave and resonant, pierced through the silence, and he felt his heart drop. "You have been cursed by the Moon Goddess," she declared, her words hanging in the air like a thunderstorm on the horizon. "You rejected the mate you were destined to be with, the one she provided for you—a bond meant to strengthen both of you. For that defiance, you are being punished."

The weight of her revelation pressed down on him, a chilling shroud of despair tightening around his chest. "Unless you find your destined mate again," she continued, her tone unyielding, "You will continue to weaken with each passing day, and so will your men." His thoughts spiraled—images of his loyal companions flickering before him, their fates intertwined with his own. The realization dawned on him: not only was he suffering, but his choices also endangered those he had sworn to protect. Panic and regret welled up within him, and he was left grappling with the heavy burden of destiny and the choices that had led him here.