The next day,
Elara's POV
The rhythmic thud-scrape of the pestle was a frantic, desperate drumbeat in the quiet infirmary. I slammed the mortar down on the stone table, pulverizing the last of the Feverfew.
The air - a thick earthy mix of Nightshade and the coppery ghost of blood - usually felt like the only sanctuary I had left... But today, it was suffocating me.
Yesterday I had managed to make it to the camp in 10 minutes...
My lungs burned when I slammed to a stop outside the reinforced camp gate, throwing the heavy report onto the guard's station. I had shaved three minutes off the run by secretly wolfing out, making the trip in seven minutes flat. But speed was useless against Thorne authority.
"Alpha's orders. No entry without clearance," the lead guard grunted, his face impassive.
"This is a North Ridge Failure Report! Kaelen needs this intelligence now," I snapped, adrenaline warring with fury.
"Lady Thorne knows the enemy intercepts our couriers. Every minute I stand here, our position degrades."
The guards just exchanged cold glances, their massive bodies blocking the narrow entrance. Ten minutes ticked by - the ten minutes I wasted arguing, was the ten minutes the enemy could use. My hands were shaking, not from exhaustion, but from the raw political impotence.
Then, the air shifted, as Gamma Raven appeared, his scent a sudden, sharp clarity. He took one look at me and the stationary guards.
"What in the hell is this?" Raven's voice was a low, dangerous snarl. He snatched the report, his eyes scanning the title.
"Are you fools trying to compromise our intelligence? If the enemy had grabbed her and this report, who would the Alpha blame first?"
"Move now!" He shoved the guards aside.
Raven didn't wait. He grabbed my elbow, his grip surprisingly firm, and pulled me through the gate into the camp's controlled chaos. We moved at a near-run toward the war room.
He didn't like me or hate me, even though he silently acknowledged my skills.
"Kaelen isn't in his office. He's out on recon," Raven muttered, pushing me toward the inner compound. "Hand this to Elder Ivandor immediately. He's running the command center."
I found Old Beta Ivandor bent over a massive tactical map, his face etched with strain. I shoved the report onto the table.
"Lady Thorne demanded immediate delivery," I gasped, barely catching my breath. Then, with a quick, desperate, bid for favor, I said,
"Your son, Ronan. He's stable. The arterial bleed is stopped and he'll recover in three days time."
Ivandor's weary gaze finally met mine, a flicker of pure relief cutting through the tension. As he grabbed the report, I didn't wait for his thanks or Kaelen's return, I ran out, already planning my next move.
------
Lady Thorne had left only five minutes ago, but her contempt was still visible, coating the air like oil. The only shield I had left was the work; the chaotic war at least offered my hands a constant, immediate purpose.
The door scraped open, and clean, clear, and warm scent cut through the herbal stench.
I instantly knew it was Sarah.
"Elara." Sarah's murmur was low and immediate.
She moved with a terrible, knowing purpose, her brown eyes going straight to the bruise. She gave me no pity, nor apology, just the weight of a shared, helpless, frustration.
"The supply chain is fine," I lied, keeping my eyes locked on the dust rising from the mortar.
She ignored me, her light touch gently pulling the mortar from my grasp.
"Your hands are raw. Stop." Her sigh was tight with urgency.
"Forget these stale herbs. I risked the North Ridge this morning."
She then held out a small, tightly woven pouch. The fresh Nightshade leaves were potent, dark, and criminally expensive. They pulsed with raw medicinal energy.
"You shouldn't have." A frantic gratitude warred with raw fear in my chest. "If Kaelen's patrol had caught you..."
"I owe you everything." Her gaze locked with mine, forcing me to hold it. "Your decoction saved me from the miasma. We both know what the Elders call it - witch's taint - but it works. I won't watch you kill yourself here for people who refuse to see your worth. We have to go, tonight."
"I can't." The word tasted like copper and fear. "The world outside is just another cage."
I then forced myself to speak the name that shackled me.
"Rylan is here."
Her expression instantly shattered. Rylan, my cousin, the last of my bloodline, was only a grunt in a Pack Knight squadron - a death sentence waiting to happen.
"If I - the Mate Kaelen is too proud to reject - flee, he will see it as calculated treachery," I explained, the words desperate and thin. "He won't hunt me; he will punish my kin. He will assign Rylan a mission no one survives. You know the coldness of his orders. I endure this mockery to keep him out of the deepest pit missions. I choose this cage, Sarah. I choose to survive for him."
Sarah's arms wrapped around me in a quick, sorrowful squeeze.
"You deserve survival. Now go. We both have duties."
She was pulling away when the very air outside the window cracked.
It wasn't the distant, low boom of the ongoing front-line engagement. This was closer and sharper.
It was an excited howl.
It began as a low throbbing wave, building instantly to a full-throated, metallic cry that demanded absolute silence.
It was the possessive, undeniable, call of Alpha Kaelen Thorne himself.
The sound slammed into my body, vibrating in my skull, shaking the stone floor beneath my worn boots. My bones felt hollow, as the Bond stirred - a cold, sickening, twist deep in my core, and a magnetic pull towards the noise and the power behind it.
"He's back," Sarah gasped, her face draining to a chalky white.
My mind was a sudden rush of panicked, frantic duty. Kaelen never did this.
This public howl meant something critical had happened. Something that demanded the immediate presence of every ranked wolf. I couldn't be found here, lurking in the shadows, proving Lady Thorne's contemptuous claim that I was merely a servant obsessed with herbs.
I had to run to him, prove I was worthy. I had to finally, publicly, stand by his side.
This is the moment, the only thought that flashed within me was: Prove your value.
"I have to go!" I shoved Sarah's arm aside. "I have to be there!"
The words were thick and fast, tasting of hopeful adrenaline overriding the fear.
I raced out of the infirmary, leaving the safety of the medicinal darkness for the harsh, hostile glare of the main hallway lights. My heart hammered against my ribs, a chaotic, desperate drumbeat echoing my rapid footsteps. I ignored the gasps of the pack servants I passed, ignoring the fear that pricked my skin like pins.
I focused solely on the Alpha's call, the possessive dominance drawing me like a moth to a devastating flame.
I sprinted past the kitchens, the lingering smell of stale grease and burned sugar a sickly contrast to the sharp cedar scent of the returning Alpha.
My lungs began to burn, but the fear of missing my chance was a stronger more immediate pain. My footsteps echoed on the polished stone, too loud, too desperate. Every sound, every echo, was a testament to my frantic speed.
The hallway opened into the main assembly area. I burst through the doorway.
The entire pack was already there... frozen, rigid, and eerily silent.
I skidded to a stop near the back wall, instantly forcing my breathing to shallow gasps, trying to mimic the stillness of the crowd. My eyes flew immediately to the large, towering doors at the far end of the hall.
The pressure in the room was immense, a physical weight pressing down on my shoulders, a shared expectation that felt like solid rock.
The silence was cut by a new sound: the rhythmic, heavy thud-thud-thud of reinforced boots on the stone floor.
Unhurried and commanding, Alpha Kaelen Thorne entered, and my blood ran cold.
He was a vision of raw exhausted power, still dressed in travel-worn black leathers, but his exhaustion only amplified his contained violence. He reeked of the front lines - metal, sweat, and the sharp cold cedar of his unique Alpha scent.
But that scent was ruined by something else. A subtle layer of confusion and warmth of another being.
His obsidian gaze, which usually held contempt when it found me, was now softened, etched with profound relief and a fierce, terrifying protectiveness.
The air thickened. My breath hitched and died in my throat, when I saw the reason.
In his arms, nestled close against his wide muscular chest, was a figure entirely wrapped in a thick rough woolen cloak. The figure was slight, fragile, and utterly unconscious. Kaelen held her with an unnerving, deliberate gentleness - a tenderness I had never once been shown in the several months of our unspoken Bond. His hands, capable of breaking bones, supported her head and back with the soft care one would reserve for the most precious of treasures.
He walked straight to the dais, bypassing every Elder and Beta who had gathered to greet him. He then knelt on one knee - an act of humility that shocked the pack into a deeper, horrified silence - and gently set the woman down on the third high fur-lined chair, reserved specifically for the Alpha's consort.
He turned to face the assembly, his gaze sweeping over the silent, shocked faces. His mouth settled into a grim line.
My stomach dropped to the cold stone floor. The frantic, hopeful, adrenaline had vanished, leaving behind only the dead weight of terrible certainty. I had rushed out to claim my place, only to witness, firsthand, the depth of his devotion to another.
I had missed my chance to prove my indispensability... I could feel the invisible shackle of the Bond trembling, ready to snap.