Chapter 8

When Thalia woke, she found herself in the pack infirmary, lying on a narrow cot beneath a woolen blanket.

A pack medic stood at her side, face heavy with regret. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You’ve lost the pup.”

Tears filled her eyes before she could speak.

Because of Naeryn and Drake, she had lost her pup again.

Outside the infirmary corridor, she could hear the murmur of the medics and pack attendants.

“Did you hear? The Alpha’s mate scratched her wrist with a rope and he reserved the whole ward.”

“Which Alpha?”

“Who else? Drake Valecrown. I wish I had a bond like that.”

From the moment she had been taken to the lair to the moment she lost the pup, Drake had not once called her, not a single message.

Naeryn, on the other hand, only bore a small scratch—and Drake had commandeered an entire floor of the infirmary for her.

Thalia let out a bitter smile as fresh tears came to her eyes.

Her communicator on the bedside table buzzed. She picked it up.

[You found a compatible heart-source donor, right? Can you fly over now?] came the message.

She nodded to herself. “I’ve already booked the passage,” she told the pack medic.

At that moment Drake walked into the room. “What passage? Where are you going?” he asked.

Thalia didn’t turn to him. Calmly, she said, “I bought it for a friend, his mark didn’t go through.”

He set a sheaf of lilies on the small table. They were Naeryn’s favorite flowers.

“I’m sorry about last night. Things moved fast and I had no choice,” he offered.

She gave him a cold look. “So your choice was Naeryn. You left your mate of three years with those savages?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but his communicator buzzed. Naeryn’s name flashed. His face shifted immediately.

“Didn’t I pick Naeryn because you staged all of this, Thalia?” he said, voice tight. “Aren’t you doing this to get my attention? Have you thought how much this hurts Naeryn?”

“She needs me now. Take care of her,” she replied.

He slammed the infirmary door and left without another glance.

So Naeryn had told him she’d fabricated the whole thing—he trusted her implicitly.

Her communicator chimed again: a blunt command from Drake.

[Come to the eighth ward and apologize to Naeryn right now, or I’ll never forgive you!]

Thalia let out a cold laugh and blocked his mark.

What Naeryn did not know was that Thalia had already recorded everything Naeryn had said to her at the celebration—the entire conversation saved, word for word.

Before she left the cot, she placed the recorder and the pack medic’s report about the miscarriage on the bedside table.

Then she rose, took her father’s hand and walked away without looking back.