Chapter2

I make it halfway to the north gate before they catch me.

Four pack guards materialize from the shadows, their wolves flickering just beneath their skin.

"Luna Elena." Marcus Hale, Darius's second, steps forward. "Alpha requests your presence in the medical wing."

Requests.

"I'm no longer Luna, Marcus." I keep walking. "You have no authority over me."

His hand clamps on my shoulder.

"Alpha's orders supersede your departure."

Of course they do.

They drag me back through the service entrance—couldn't risk the pack seeing their disgraced Luna hauled through the main halls twice in one night.

The medical wing reeks of antiseptic and silver.

Darius stands beside a gurney where Serena lies, the bracelet finally removed, her wrist wrapped in bandages.

Pack physician Dr. Reeves hovers nearby, his face grim.

"Strip her and prep her," Darius says without looking at me. "I need two pints. Maybe three."

What?

"Alpha, I must protest—" Dr. Reeves begins.

"She's RH-negative wolf blood. The only compatible match in the pack." Darius finally turns to me, his eyes empty. "Serena needs a transfusion. The bracelet's magic poisoned her system."

You're joking.

"No." The word comes out flat. "Absolutely not."

"It wasn't a question." He nods to the guards.

They force me onto the table, strapping down my arms.

I thrash, but Marcus is too strong, and my wolf is too weak from years of suppressed bonds.

"Darius, please—" Dr. Reeves tries again. "Her medical file shows cardiac weakness. This could kill her."

"Then take two pints and monitor closely." Darius moves to Serena's side, brushing hair from her forehead. "Start now."

Cardiac weakness.

From the miscarriage you never asked about.

The needle pierces my vein, and the world tilts.

Dr. Reeves mutters numbers—blood pressure dropping, heart rate erratic.

Serena's monitor beeps steadily in contrast.

Of course hers is stable.

"Darius." My vision blurs at the edges. "You're killing me for her."

"You tried to kill her first." He doesn't even glance over. "This is justice."

Justice.

Is that what we're calling it?

The room spins, fluorescent lights streaking into comets.

"Alpha, her heart—" Dr. Reeves's voice sounds distant, underwater.

"Keep going."

Those are the last words I hear before darkness swallows me whole.

---

I wake to white ceiling tiles and the steady beep of monitors.

My arm throbs where the IV sits, pumping fluids back into my depleted veins.

"You're awake." Darius sits in the corner chair, his posture rigid. "Good."

Good?

I try to sit up, but my body won't cooperate.

"Two and a half pints." His voice is clinical. "Dr. Reeves says you'll recover in a few days."

"How generous." My throat is sandpaper. "Serena?"

"Stable. The baby's fine." He stands, moving to the window. "You'll remain here under observation."

Prison with medical equipment.

"My phone." I force the words out. "I need my phone."

"Why?" He turns, suspicious. "Who are you calling?"

"None of your business." I meet his eyes. "You took my title, my home, my blood. Give me my phone."

A muscle ticks in his jaw.

Then he pulls it from his pocket and tosses it onto the bed.

"Five minutes. I'm timing you."

My fingers shake as I unlock it and find the contact.

E: Delayed. Need a few more days.

The reply comes instantly.

L: What happened?

E: Medical hold. I'm fine. I'll signal when clear.

L: I'm coming now.

E: NO. Wait for my word. Please.

A long pause.

L: Three days. Then I'm coming regardless.

I delete the conversation and set the phone down.

"Satisfied?" I close my eyes. "Your five minutes are up."

Darius is silent for a long moment.

"Who was that?"

"Someone who actually wants me alive." I turn away from him. "Novel concept, I know."

His footsteps approach the bed.

Stop.

Retreat.

The door clicks shut, and I'm alone with the monitors' steady rhythm.

My phone buzzes once more under the pillow.