Morning crept into the packhouse like a lie.
The sun's light filtered through the tall, fractured windows, spilling over blood-stained stone and scorched floorboards, touching the remnants of the battle that had left the pack world trembling. Yet, the warmth of the morning didn't sooth it, it mocked them. Every flicker of sunlight reminded them of the night, of teeth and claws and the fire that had scorched Elena from the inside out.
The pack moved quietly. Not silently,never silently, but with careful, measured steps, as if the shadows of the forest outside still lingered within the walls. Whispered conversations cut off the moment someone glanced their way. Even the younger wolves huddled closer to the adults, sensing that this morning was different, dangerous even in its calm.
Elena sat at the edge of Lorenzo's bed. She was wrapped in his cloak, a fortress of dark fabric around her trembling form. The cloak was too large, drowning her in its folds, heavy with the scent of smoke, pine, and the raw, feral wildness that was uniquely Lorenzo. But the smell grounded her. It reminded her that he was still there. That she was still safe, somehow.
He stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes sharp and unyielding, every line of his body taut with vigilance. He hadn't slept. Not once. Not when Elena finally stopped shaking in the pale hours of dawn. Not when the pack had gone to their duties, still cautious, still alert. He hadn't let go of her hand. Not a single time.
Even now, he didn't speak. He simply watched, his golden gaze unblinking, scanning her every movement, reading her trembling breaths like an open map.
A healer approached cautiously, her steps careful and reverent. She bowed her head slightly. "Alpha… Luna-chosen."
Elena flinched at the title. Luna chosen. It carried weight. Responsibility. The impossible expectations of a pack that already whispered about her, about what she could or couldn't do. She wished she could vanish, sink into the floor and be done with it.
The healer extended a shallow wooden bowl toward her. Steam curled from its surface in delicate ribbons, carrying a sharp, earthy scent that made Elena's stomach twist with unease.
"This will help," the healer said softly, voice steady but not entirely free from fear. "Moonroot. Frostleaf. It will cool the fire inside you. Your body… it's still adjusting after the shift, after the heat. You need this."
Elena stared at the bowl. Her fingers trembled so violently that she nearly dropped it. She glanced at Lorenzo, not for permission,she had never needed it,but for reassurance. He moved only slightly closer, the tension in his body coiling around her like a cage and a shield at the same time.
"Only if you want it," he said quietly.
She nodded. She always nodded. It was easier than explaining, easier than finding words she couldn't trust to come out right. Trust had always been a strange thing for her, something she handed to others cautiously, carefully… even when she couldn't protect herself.
The liquid was thick and bitter, sliding down her throat with a burning, invasive heat. At first, nothing happened. The warmth that should have soothed her body twisted into something foreign, uncomfortable.
Then it hit.
Pain bloomed in her chest, slow and invasive, coiling through her ribs and bones. Her breath stuttered. Her vision swam with silver flashes, the room warping around her.
"Elena?" Lorenzo's voice cut through the haze, low and sharp. He moved before she could even blink, his body a blur of speed and lethal grace.
Her knees buckled. She fell forward, but Lorenzo caught her mid-fall, her rigid body trembling in his arms. Silver light pulsed erratically beneath her skin, flashes that made her wolf scream from inside her, disoriented and panicked.
"What did you give her?" Lorenzo demanded, voice deadly calm, but every syllable carried fire.
The healer staggered back. "I ..I followed the instructions. I swear, Alpha, I followed them exactly."
Marcus was already there, moving faster than thought. He knelt beside Elena, lifting the bowl carefully, inhaling sharply. His jaw tightened, and the color drained from his face.
"This isn't right," he said, voice low but icy. "Someone… altered it."
The room fell into sudden, suffocating silence.
Elena's shallow breaths echoed against the stone. The bond between her and Lorenzo flickered violently,not breaking, but warping, twisted by some unseen hand. Her chest heaved as if the fire inside her had been reignited and then twisted into something dark.
And in the shadows of the hall, unseen and smiling, Cassandra watched.
Her lips curved into a predator's smile.
Even from a distance, she could see Elena's panic. Could feel the shift in the air, the way the bond thrashed against itself. Cassandra's plan had worked perfectly. Just the first step.
Her dark, cold eyes glimmered with anticipation.
Soon, she thought. Soon, the Alpha will have to choose between the pack he loves… and the mate he cannot lose. And Elena… oh, Elena will scream for more than mercy.