The impact drives the air from my lungs as I hit the training mat, but I'm already rolling, using momentum to spring back to my feet. My opponent—a male warrior named Garrett who outweighs me by at least eighty pounds—charges again like a freight train with bad intentions. I wait until the last possible second, then drop and sweep his legs. He crashes down hard. Before he can recover, I'm on his back, forearm locked against his throat in a hold that would make him unconscious in about ten seconds. "Yield," I say quietly. He taps the mat twice. I release him immediately and offer my hand. "Dam, Isla." Garrett accepts the help up, rubbing his n**k with a rueful grin. "You get faster every week. What are you, part cheetah?" "Just focused." I grab my water bottle from the bench, trying to slow my racing heart. Three years of training under the Alpha King's Elite program has made me lethal. Three years of proving I'm more than the broken girl who showed up at his gates, pregnant and desperate. Three years of building a life where no one can hurt me again. The scar tissue around my heart agrees. Mostly. "Good match, both of you." Delta Commander Ashford—Thorne to those of us lucky enough to call him friend—approaches with towels. His hazel eyes catch mine with that knowing look he gets when he thinks I'm pushing too hard. "Though maybe Garrett should stop betting against you. This is what, five losses in a row?" Garrett g****s. "My wallet hates you both." I manage a smile, but it feels tight. The training cleared my head temporarily, but the nightmares from last night are still lurking. The same one I've had for three years: standing at that altar while Kade's voice echoes through the Great Hall. I reject this bond. "Isla." Thorne's voice cuts through the memory. "You good?" I nod, taking a long drink to avoid answering verbally. Thorne knows most of my history. Not all of it—nobody here knows everything—but enough that he watches me like I might shatter. I won't. I've already been broken once. You can't break the same way twice. The other warriors are filtering out of the training center, heading for showers and breakfast. I'm gathering my things when the scent hits: crisp mountain air and old paper. Messenger wolf. My stomach drops. The young wolf appears at the entrance, formal in his dark uniform bearing the Alpha King's insignia. His eyes scan the nearly empty room until they land on me. "Elite Warrior Isla Gray?" "That's me." I keep my voice steady even as Thorne moves closer, protective instincts kicking in. The messenger extends a sealed envelope. The crimson wax bears Alaric's personal seal: a crown over crossed swords. I stare at it like it might explode. In a way, it already has. "The Alpha King requires your immediate acknowledgment of receipt," the messenger says in that carefully neutral tone they all use. My fingers are steady as I break the seal. That's three years of practice. Inside, Alaric's sharp handwriting cuts straight to the point. Elite Warrior Gray, Your presence is required at Blackthorn Pack territory. Luna Serena Blackthorn has been afflicted with an unknown poison. Their healers believe your bloodline may provide the cure. You will depart at dawn. This is not a request. Alpha King Alaric Stone The paper crinkles as my grip tightens. Blackthorn Pack. Serena. The woman who stole my mate, wearing the title that should have been mine. And she's dying. "Isla?" Thorne's hand hovers near my shoulder but doesn't make contact. He learned early that I don't like being touched when I'm processing. "What's wrong?" "I need to go." The words come out flat. I fold the letter precisely, tucking it into my training bag. "Can you watch Asher tonight? I have something to handle." "Of course, but—" I'm already walking toward the doors that lead to the residential wing. My legs move on autopilot while my mind spins through implications like shuffling cards. Serena is dying. The pack that rejected me needs my help. Alaric is ordering me to return to the place I swore I'd never see again. And somewhere in that chaos of thoughts: a tiny, vicious part of me whispers that she deserves it. I hate that part. But I can't silence it. The residential wing is quieter, designed for families of the Elite Guard. My small apartment sits at the end of the third floor. I can hear Asher before I see him—his delighted laughter echoing from the common room where the older kids sometimes watch the younger ones. He spots me immediately, his mismatched eyes lighting up. One green like his father's, one silver like mine. The genetic lottery made sure no one could ever doubt his parentage, even if I've never spoken Kade's name aloud to my son. "Mama!" Asher barrels into my legs with the force of a small, enthusiastic battering r*m. "Mrs. Chen let us have extra cookies because Tommy lost a tooth!" "Did she now?" I crouch to his level, smoothing back the distinctive white and black hair that marks him as different. Special. "And did you save any for me?" He considers this seriously, then shakes his head. "They were really good cookies." "Honest. I appreciate that." I pull him into a hug, breathing in the scent of him: honey and sunshine and home. He's the only good thing that came from that disaster three years ago. The only part I'd never take back. "When are we gonna visit the big wolves?" He asks suddenly, pulling back to look at me with those too-knowing eyes. "You said maybe someday we could see a real pack. With ceremonies and everything." My throat closes. He has no idea that he belongs to a pack. That his father is an Alpha who doesn't know he exists. That "someday" is a lie I tell to protect him from a truth that would complicate everything. "Maybe when you're older," I say, forcing lightness into my tone. "Big pack gatherings can be overwhelming." "I'm not scared." He puffs up his small chest. "Uncle Thorne says I'm brave." "Uncle Thorne is right." I k**s his forehead. "Now go play. I need to talk to Mrs. Chen about tomorrow." He scampers off, already distracted by another child calling his name. I watch him go, memorizing the carefree joy on his face. Twenty-four hours. That's all the time Alaric gave me to upend our lives. I retreat to our apartment and read the letter again, searching for loopholes. There aren't any. This is not a request. Alaric never makes empty threats. If I refuse, he'll find ways to make me comply. He holds too much power, knows too many of my secrets. Including the biggest one. The letter doesn't say how long I'll be gone. Doesn't specify what "cure" they need from me. Just demands my presence like I'm a tool to be deployed. I sink onto the couch, staring at the words until they blur. Serena dying shouldn't matter to me. The woman who smiled as Kade rejected me, who wore my title and slept in my bed and built a life on the ruins of mine—why should I care if she's suffering? But the hollowness in my chest isn't satisfaction. It's something colder. Emptier. Maybe because revenge fantasies are better than reality. Maybe because I'm not the vindictive monster I sometimes wish I could be. Or maybe it's because some part of me knows that going back there, seeing Kade again, will crack open wounds that never properly healed. A knock at the door startles me. Thorne lets himself in—one of the few people with that privilege. "You going to tell me what's in that letter?" He settles into the chair across from me, expression patient. "The Alpha King is sending me on assignment." Technically true. "I leave at dawn." "And Asher?" "I need you to watch him. I don't know how long I'll be gone." My voice nearly breaks on the last word, but I catch it. "Please, Thorne. You're the only one I trust with him." His face softens. "You know I'd do anything for that kid. For both of you." He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "But this assignment—it's dangerous, isn't it?" "Everything's dangerous." "Isla." I meet his eyes. Thorne has been my friend since day one. He taught me advanced combat, covered for me when morning sickness made me late to training, and never once asked for the whole story. He just stood beside me while I rebuilt myself. "It's the Blackthorn Pack." The words taste like ashes. "My old pack. They need... they need my help with something." Understanding dawns across his features. "Your mate's pack." "Former mate." The correction is automatic. "He rejected me, remember? No bond, no mate, no connection." "Except for Asher." My hands curl into fists. "Kade doesn't know about Asher. And he never will. This is a medical consultation, nothing more. I go in, I do the job, I come home." "You sure about that?" Thorne's voice is gentle. "Going back there—seeing him again—" "I'm sure." I have to be. "I'm not that broken girl anymore. I'm an Elite Warrior. I've faced rogue attacks, border disputes, and political nightmares. I can handle one dying Luna and her guilty Alpha." Thorne doesn't look convinced, but he nods. "When do you leave?" "Dawn. Alaric's orders." I pull out the letter, showing him the seal. "If I refuse, he'll make alternative arrangements. You know what that means." "He'll send you anyway, just without the illusion of choice." Thorne's jaw tightens. "I've never liked how he operates. You're a person, not a weapon." "Weapons are useful. People are expendable." I learned that lesson the hard way. "At least as a weapon, I have value." "You have value because you're you, Isla. Not because of what you can do for powerful men." I want to believe him. I do. But three years ago, the most powerful man in my life looked at me and decided I wasn't worthy. It's hard to forget that kind of lesson. "I should pack." I stand, needing movement. "And spend time with Asher before..." Before I walk back into the nightmare I escaped. Thorne rises too. "I'll bring him to my place tonight. Make it an adventure. That way you can leave early without him knowing you're gone." The kindness nearly undoes me. "Thank you." "That's what family does." He pulls me into a quick hug, professional and brief. "And Isla? Come back. That kid needs his mom." "I will." I say it with certainty I don't feel. "I promise." After he leaves, I stand at the window, watching Asher play in the courtyard below. His laughter drifts up, pure and uncomplicated. He has no idea that in a few hours, I'll be gone. That I'm returning to the place where his father destroyed me. That if Kade discovers his existence, everything could change. The letter sits on the table, Alaric's final line catching the fading light: Alternative arrangements will be made should you decline. I'm trapped. We both know it. Twenty-four hours until I face the mate who rejected me, the woman who replaced me, and the life I've spent three years trying to forget. I look at Asher one more time, memorizing his joy. He can never know where he comes from, I think. He can never know what his father did to us. Some truths are too dangerous to speak aloud. And some wounds never stop bleeding, no matter how well you hide them.

The Alpha King's private office occupies the top floor of the compound, all dark wood and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the territory like a predator surveying its domain. I've been here dozens of times for briefings, commendations, strategic planning sessions. This feels different. The air is thicker somehow, charged with something I can't name. Alpha King Alaric sits behind his massive oak desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin. At forty-five, he's still formidable—steel-gray hair, pale blue eyes that miss nothing, and a presence that makes even other Alphas instinctively lower their gaze. I stand at attention three feet from the desk, spine straight, hands clasped behind my back. Elite Warrior posture. Professional. Controlled. "You summoned me, Alpha King." My voice doesn't waver. Small victory. "Sit, Isla." He gestures to one of the leather chairs across from him. "I prefer to stand, sir." His mouth twitches with something that might be amusement. "I wasn't asking." I sit. But I don't relax. Alaric studies me for a long moment, and I force myself to hold his gaze. Three years of training under his command taught me that showing weakness invites exploitation. He respects strength, even when it's performed. "You received my letter," he says finally. "I did." "And?" "And I respectfully decline the assignment." The words come out clipped, military. "I'm not a healer. You have specialists far more qualified for medical consultation." "True." Alaric leans back in his chair, the leather creaking. "But they don't have your bloodline." My jaw tightens. "My bloodline is irrelevant. I'm a warrior, not a blood bank." "Your bloodline is exactly why you're going." His tone shifts, becoming the voice he uses during tactical briefings. Calm, absolute, leaving no room for argument. "The Blackthorn Pack has formally requested assistance through diplomatic channels. Luna Serena has been poisoned with something their healers can't identify. Your rare genetic markers may provide the cure they need." "Then send my medical records. They can synthesize whatever they need without me physically being there." "It doesn't work that way, and you know it." Alaric stands, moving to the window. His back is to me, but I can see his reflection in the glass. "This is a diplomatic obligation between allied packs. When an ally requests aid, we respond. Refusal would be seen as a hostile act." "So send someone else." My hands curl into fists on the armrests. "You have two hundred Elite Warriors. Surely one of them can deliver blood samples or whatever medical support they need." "None of them are you." "Exactly. None of them have history with that pack. None of them were publicly humiliated and rejected by their Alpha." The words escape before I can stop them, years of buried anger bubbling up. "You're asking me to walk back into the place that destroyed me and smile while I help the woman who stole my life. That's not diplomacy, that's cruelty." Alaric turns to face me fully. "I'm asking you to do your duty." "My duty?" I'm on my feet now, professional composure fracturing. "My duty was to my mate. My pack. And they rejected me. I don't owe them anything." "You owe me." His voice drops to something dangerous. "I took you in when you had nowhere else to go. Gave you purpose, training, protection. Everything you've built here exists because I allowed it." The truth of it stings worse than any physical blow. I want to argue, to throw his words back in his face, but we both know he's right. Three years ago, I showed up at his gates broken and desperate. He could have turned me away. Instead, he gave me a chance to become more than my trauma. And now he's calling in that debt. "This isn't a request," Alaric continues, moving back to his desk. "It's an order. You leave at dawn." "And if I refuse?" "Then I'll make alternative arrangements to ensure your compliance." His eyes meet mine, and there's no warmth there. Just cold calculation. "You're too valuable to lose, Isla. But you're not indispensable. Remember that." The threat hangs between us like a blade. I swallow hard, tasting defeat. "How long?" My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. "As long as it takes to stabilize the Luna and ensure the treatment works." He sits again, pulling a file from his desk drawer. "Initial estimates suggest two to three weeks." Two to three weeks. In the place I swore never to return to. With the mate who destroyed me. "I have a son." The words escape before I can reconsider. "He needs me here." "Delta Ashford can watch him. The boy knows him, trusts him." Alaric opens the file, scanning contents I can't see. "It's not ideal, but it's temporary." "You don't understand—" "Kade doesn't know about Asher, does he?" The world stops. My heart hammers so hard I'm surprised Alaric can't hear it. "What?" He looks up, expression carefully neutral. "Your son. Alpha Kade Blackthorn doesn't know he exists." "I don't know what you're talking about." The lie is automatic, desperate. "Don't insult my intelligence, Isla." Alaric closes the file, giving me his full attention. "You arrived at my gates three years ago, two months pregnant, fleeing from a rejection ceremony at the Blackthorn Pack. Basic math tells me who the father is." My lungs won't work properly. "You... you knew?" "From the beginning." He says it so casually, like he's discussing weather patterns. "I had you examined by our medical team when you first arrived. Standard procedure for all refugees. The doctor noted your pregnancy and estimated conception date." "And you never said anything." The betrayal cuts deeper than I expected. I thought I'd found safety here. Sanctuary. But it was another cage all along. "Why would I?" Alaric tilts his head slightly. "You were useful. Motivated. A Beta-blooded female with combat instincts and something to prove. The pregnancy made you vulnerable enough to control, strong enough to mold. I saw potential." "You saw a tool." Bitterness floods my mouth. "I saw opportunity. There's a difference." He taps the file. "And you've exceeded every expectation. Elite Warrior status in record time. Exceptional combat scores. Unwavering loyalty. You've been an asset, Isla." "An asset you're now sending back to my worst nightmare." "An asset I'm deploying where she's needed most." He leans forward. "Luna Serena is pregnant. Four months along. The poison is killing both her and the child. The Blackthorn Pack's formal request emphasized that the innocent life of an unborn child hangs in the balance." Something cold settles in my stomach. "You're using a baby to manipulate me." "I'm presenting facts. How you interpret them is your choice." But his eyes say he knows exactly what he's doing. "You understand better than most what it means to carry a child while the world falls apart around you. To be desperate for someone, anyone, to help." The memory surfaces unbidden: standing in the rain outside these gates, one hand pressed to my still-flat stomach, terrified and alone. Alaric's guards found me collapsed on the road. Brought me inside. Saved me. Or so I thought. "You kept my secret," I say slowly, pieces falling into place. "Why?" "Because secrets are leverage. And I suspected there might come a day when I'd need you to do something difficult." He spreads his hands. "That day has arrived." "So what, you'll tell Kade about Asher if I refuse? Use my son as blackmail?" "I won't have to." Alaric's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "If you refuse to go willingly, I'll send you anyway. But I'll be forced to include your complete medical history in the official documentation. Protocol requires full disclosure of any factors that might affect treatment efficacy. Your pregnancy history would certainly qualify." My nails dig into my palms hard enough to draw blood. "You bаst3rd." "I prefer strategic." He stands, signaling the meeting is ending. "You have until dawn to prepare. Transportation will be arranged. Pack for extended stay." I don't move. Can't move. My mind is racing through options, searching for escape routes that don't exist. "There's one more thing you should consider." Alaric's voice softens slightly, almost gentle. "Serena's child is innocent in all this. Just like Asher was innocent when you were carrying him, desperate for someone to care. You have the power to save a life. The question is whether your pain is more important than that child's survival." The manipulation is so elegant I almost admire it. Almost. "When Kade discovers he has a son—and he will discover it eventually—I need to know where your loyalty lies." Alaric moves to the door, opening it in clear dismissal. "With the mate who rejected you, or the King who gave you purpose." I stand on shaking legs, moving toward the exit like a puppet on strings. "Isla." His voice stops me at the threshold. "For what it's worth, I do respect you. You're stronger than you were three years ago. Strong enough to survive this." "And if I'm not?" "Then you were never as valuable as I believed." His expression is unreadable. "Prove me right. Be the warrior I trained you to be." I walk out without responding, the door closing behind me with a soft click that sounds like a prison cell locking. The hallway stretches before me, suddenly unfamiliar. Everything I thought I knew about my place here, my safety, my value—all of it built on foundations I never questioned. Alaric knew about Asher from day one. Kept the secret not to protect me, but to control me. The sanctuary I fought so hard to build was an illusion. I've been a pawn all along. My feet carry me toward the residential wing on autopilot. I need to see Asher. Need to hold him and remember why I survived the rejection in the first place. But Thorne already took him for their "adventure." My apartment will be empty. I'm alone with the truth I can't outrun: tomorrow, I return to Blackthorn Pack. To Kade. To the life that was stolen from me. And when Kade discovers Asher exists—because Alaric made it clear that revelation is inevitable—everything will change. The mate who rejected me will learn he has a son he never knew about. The question isn't if my carefully constructed world will collapse. It's how much damage the explosion will cause. And whether I'll survive it a second time.

Leaving Asher was harder than the rejection. That thought circles through my mind as the transport vehicle carries me north toward Blackthorn territory. I can still feel his small arms wrapped around my n**k, his face buried in my shoulder when I explained Mommy had to go away for a little while. "How long?" he'd asked, voice muffled. "Not long, baby. Uncle Thorne will take good care of you." "Promise you'll come back?" The question shattered something in my chest. "I promise." Thorne had to physically pry him off me. The sound of Asher's crying followed me down the hallway, through the compound gates, into the vehicle that's taking me back to my personal hll. I press my forehead against the cool window, watching unfamiliar landscape roll past. Trees blur together. The sun climbs higher. My reflection stares back at me, pale and hollow-eyed. Three years. I spent three years building walls brick by painful brick, and now I'm voluntarily tearing them down. The memory surfaces without permission: standing at that altar in my mother's silver gown, watching Kade's face go blank as I approached. The wrongness of it hitting me before he even spoke. I reject this bond. His voice had been so cold. Clinical. Like he was discussing a failed training exercise rather than destroying my entire world. Serena had stepped forward in that gold dress, radiant and triumphant. She'd looked at me with something like pity, which was somehow worse than hatred. The pack had stared. Some shocked, many relieved they weren't me, a few openly pleased to witness my humiliation. My father had stood frozen in his formal Beta attire, face unreadable. He hadn't come after me when I ran. Hadn't called or written in three years. As far as he was concerned, I died the moment I left pack lands. Maybe I did. The Isla who believed in fated mates and happily ever after definitely didn't survive that night. I shake my head sharply, dispelling the images. The past is done. I'm not that broken girl anymore. I'm Elite Warrior Isla Gray, and I'm here to do a job, nothing more. The vehicle slows as we approach the territorial boundary. My stomach tightens. Blackthorn lands are marked by a massive stone archway carved with the pack symbol: a wolf's head wreathed in thorny vines. It used to feel like coming home. Now it looks like the entrance to a crypt. Two guards step forward as we stop. Both wear the dark green uniforms of border patrol, silver badges marking their rank. The older one—Marcus, I think his name is—peers into the vehicle, then his eyes widen in recognition. "Is that... Isla Gray?" My spine stiffens. "Elite Warrior Gray, representing Alpha King Alaric on diplomatic business." I step out of the vehicle, pulling my bag over my shoulder. The morning air tastes different here. Sharper. Tinged with pine and something else I can't name but recognize bone-deep. Marcus exchanges glances with his partner, a younger wolf I don't recognize. "We were told to expect you. Alpha Kade is waiting at the main checkpoint." Of course he is. Can't even let me arrive without making his presence known. "Then I shouldn't keep him waiting." I keep my voice professional, detached. "It's just..." Marcus hesitates, and I see it cross his face. Pity. "It's good to see you looking well. After everything that happened." The sympathy is a knife between my ribs. I'd prefer cruelty. At least cruelty is honest. "Things worked out exactly as they should have." I meet his gaze steadily. "I found my place. Just not here." I walk past them before either can respond, following the familiar road toward the heart of pack territory. The forest presses close on both sides, ancient oaks and maples that have witnessed generations of pack history. They witnessed my humiliation too. Somehow that makes it worse. Other wolves appear as I walk—pack members going about their daily business who stop and stare when they recognize me. Whispers follow in my wake like a toxic cloud. "That's her, isn't it? The one who was rejected?" "I heard she left pregnant. Wonder what happened to the baby?" "Can't believe she came back. I'd die of shame." I keep my head high, my pace steady. Three years of Elite training means I know how to move through hostile territory. This is just another mission. Just another job. The main checkpoint sits at the convergence of three roads, marked by a small guardhouse and a parking area. Several vehicles are parked there, including a sleek black SUV that screams Alpha authority. And leaning against it, arms crossed, is Kade Blackthorn. My feet falter for half a step before I catch myself. Three years should have prepared me for this moment. Three years of building armor, of becoming someone new, of convincing myself I was over him. One look destroys all of it. He's bigger than I remember. Broader through the shoulders, muscles more defined beneath the dark henley he's wearing. His black hair is shorter now, styled rather than the casual mess he used to sport. The sharp line of his jaw is the same, but there's a hardness to his features that wasn't there before. And his eyes. Those green eyes that used to look at me with warmth now study me like I'm a stranger. Which I suppose I am. The rejected mate bond flares to life between us—a physical sensation like touching a live wire. It hurts. After three years of blessed numbness, feeling it again is agony. Kade pushes off the SUV, straightening to his full height. At six-four, he towers over my five-six frame. The Alpha aura radiates from him unconsciously, a pressure that makes every wolf instinct in me want to lower my gaze in submission. I don't. I'm not his to command anymore. "Isla." My name sounds strange in his voice. Formal. Careful. "Alpha Blackthorn." I stop a professional distance away, bag still over my shoulder. "I'm here as requested by Alpha King Alaric. If you'll direct me to the patient, I can begin assessment immediately." Something flickers across his face. Pain, maybe. Or regret. It's gone too quickly to identify. "Thank you for coming." He speaks slowly, like he's choosing each word with care. "I know this can't be easy for you." "It's a diplomatic assignment. My personal feelings are irrelevant." The lie tastes like ash, but my voice doesn't waver. "Right. Of course." He gestures toward the SUV. "I'll take you to the pack house. The healers have Luna Serena set up in the medical wing." Luna Serena. The title that should have been mine, attached to the woman who took everything. I move toward the vehicle, but Kade steps in front of me, opening the passenger door. The gesture is automatic, probably—Alpha males are trained to be courteous. But it feels like mockery. "I can manage." I climb in without waiting for response, settling into the leather seat that smells like him. Pine and earth and something uniquely Kade. My traitorous body recognizes it. Remembers it. Wants it. I hate myself a little for that. Kade rounds the vehicle and slides into the driver's seat. The space feels impossibly small with both of us in it. The bond thrums between us, a constant reminder of what was and what can never be again. We pull onto the main road in silence. I focus on the passing scenery, cataloging changes. New buildings on the east side. The old training center has been expanded. Everything familiar yet foreign. "You look good," Kade says quietly, breaking the silence. "Strong. Elite Warrior suits you." I don't respond. Don't acknowledge the compliment or the tentative peace offering it represents. Engaging means opening doors better left sealed. The pack house appears around a bend—a massive three-story structure of stone and timber that serves as the heart of pack life. I used to dream about living there as Luna, about making it a home. We're still fifty yards away when a voice cuts through the air, sharp and mocking. "Well, well. The failure returns." My jaw clenches. I'd know that voice anywhere. Kaley Winters stands on the front steps, arms crossed, wearing the formal attire that marks her as a ranked pack member. She's Beta-blooded, I remember. Works in pack administration now. Still beautiful in that cold, polished way. Still cruel. Several other pack members have gathered, drawn by her voice. An audience for my humiliation, just like old times. Kade's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Kaley, that's enough." "Oh, I'm sorry, Alpha. Should I pretend we're all thrilled she's here?" Kaley's smile is razor-sharp. "We all remember how her last visit ended. You rejecting her in front of the entire pack because she wasn't good enough." "I said that's enough." Alpha command bleeds into Kade's voice, making several wolves flinch. But not Kaley. She just laughs. "Come on, Isla. Don't you want to say hello to your old pack? Or are you still too broken to speak?" Every eye is on me. Waiting. Watching. Judging. Testing whether I'm still the weak, pathetic girl who ran away crying. I step out of the SUV, shouldering my bag. Three years of combat training means I know how to carry myself. How to project confidence even when my insides are screaming. I look Kaley directly in the eyes, letting her see exactly zero emotion on my face. "Move." The word is quiet. Deadly. "You're in my way." Her smile falters. Just a fraction, but I see it. "You don't give orders here, failure. You're not pack anymore." "No," I agree, moving toward the steps. "I'm Elite Warrior to the Alpha King. Which means I outrank you in every way that matters. Now move, or I'll move you." Silence falls like a hammer. Several wolves step back instinctively. Kaley's face flushes with anger, but before she can respond, Kade appears at my elbow. "She's here on diplomatic business under my direct protection." His voice carries across the gathered crowd. "Anyone who interferes answers to me personally. Understood?" Murmured assents ripple through the group. Kaley shoots me a venomous look but steps aside. I climb the steps without acknowledging her, every muscle locked tight. Don't show weakness. Don't let them see how much it costs to stand here, in this place, surrounded by people who watched my world burn. Kade opens the massive front door, and I step into the pack house. The scent hits me first—hundreds of wolves living in close proximity, their combined scents creating something uniquely pack. It used to smell like home. Now it just smells like the past I can't escape. "This way." Kade's voice is softer now that we're away from the crowd. "The medical wing is—" "I remember where it is." I cut him off. I remember everything about this place. Every hallway, every room, every corner where I used to imagine my future. His expression tightens, but he nods. "Of course." We walk in heavy silence, and I'm painfully aware that nothing has changed. I'm still not wanted here. I'm still the failure who wasn't good enough. And every second in this place is a reminder of exactly how much I lost.

The medical wing occupies the entire east side of the second floor. Kade leads me down a hallway I've walked a thousand times in my imagination—as Luna, checking on sick pack members, bringing comfort and healing. The irony tastes bitter. He stops outside the largest suite, hand on the doorknob. "She's weak. The healers have done everything they can, but..." "But they need my blood." I finish his sentence flatly. "I know. That's why I'm here." "Isla, I—" "Don't." I cut him off before he can finish whatever apology or explanation he thinks will help. "Just open the door." His jaw tightens, but he complies. The door swings open, and the smell hits me first: sickness and antiseptic and something else. Something wrong that makes my wolf recoil instinctively. Death. The room smells like death. The Luna's suite is exactly as I imagined it would be. Massive four-poster bed with gauzy curtains, sitting area with plush furniture, windows overlooking the forest. Soft blues and silvers, calming and elegant. And in the center of that beautiful bed lies a nightmare. Serena Blackthorn is barely recognizable. The golden-haired beauty who smiled triumphantly as she stole my mate has been reduced to a skeletal figure drowning in silk sheets. Her skin is gray, stretched too tight over bones that shouldn't be visible. Black veins spider across her arms, her n**k, disappearing beneath her nightgown. But her belly. Her pregnant belly rounds beneath the covers, a grotesque contrast to her wasted frame. A woman in healer's robes stands beside the bed, checking vitals with practiced efficiency. She's older, maybe sixty, with silver-streaked brown hair pulled into a bun. Her expression is professionally neutral, but I see the exhaustion in her eyes. "Elite Warrior Gray," Kade says formally. "This is Margot, our head healer. Margot, this is—" "I know who she is." Margot's voice is gentle but firm. She looks at me with something that might be respect. "Thank you for coming. I know this isn't easy." "It's a job." I move closer to the bed, forcing myself to look at Serena clinically. Patient, not person. Symptom, not story. "Brief me on her condition." Margot pulls out a chart, but she doesn't need it. "Unknown toxin introduced approximately six weeks ago. Initial symptoms were fatigue and nausea, which we attributed to pregnancy. Then the veins started darkening, spreading from her left wrist." I step closer, and that's when Serena's eyes flutter open. Milky blue, barely focused. "You came," she whispers. Her voice is paper-thin, cracking on the second word. I don't respond. Can't give her the satisfaction. "The poison is concentrated at the mate mark," Margot continues, gesturing to Serena's wrist. "It's spreading through her cardiovascular system. We've tried every antidote, every healing technique. Nothing works. She's dying, and we don't know how to stop it." I pull on medical gloves from my bag—always prepared, that's what Elite training taught me—and carefully lift Serena's wrist. The mate mark that should be silver and beautiful is black and festering, raised and angry-looking. "May I?" I ask Margot, pulling out a small scanner from my medical kit. "Of course." I run the scanner over the mark, watching the readout. Chemical composition, magical resonance, cellular degradation. The numbers paint a grim picture. "This isn't just poison." The words come out slowly as understanding dawns. "This is bond poison. Dark magic specifically designed to corrupt mate bonds." Margot goes completely still. "That's impossible. Bond poison hasn't been used in over a century. The practice was outlawed by the Council of Ancients." "Well, someone didn't get the memo." I study the readout more carefully. The magical signature is distinct, intentional. "Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. This level of precision requires serious power and knowledge." Kade steps forward. "What does that mean for Serena? For the baby?" I glance at the monitors attached to Serena. Heart rate irregular. Blood pressure dangerously low. But the fetal monitor shows strong, steady heartbeat. "It means the poison is targeting the mate bond specifically. It's trying to kill the connection between you two, but Serena's body is fighting to maintain it. The conflict is destroying her from the inside out." I set down the scanner. "The baby is protected for now—fetal biology is separate from the mother's mate bond. But if Serena dies..." "The baby dies too." Kade's voice is hollow. "Most likely, yes." Silence falls over the room. Margot makes notes on her chart. Kade stares at Serena with an expression I can't read. And I stand there feeling absolutely nothing. No. That's a lie. I feel satisfaction. Dark, ugly satisfaction that Serena is suffering the way she made me suffer. I hate myself for it. But I can't make it stop. "I need to run some tests," I say, forcing my voice to remain professional. "Draw blood, check compatibility, create a baseline. Margot, can you assist?" "Of course." "I'll leave you to it." Kade moves toward the door, but hesitates at the threshold. "Isla, I—thank you. For coming. For helping." I don't acknowledge him. Just pull out my blood draw kit and start prepping. He leaves, the door closing with a soft click. Margot works quietly beside me, handing me supplies before I ask. She's good at her job, efficient and calm. We draw three vials of Serena's blood, then three of mine for comparison. "I'll run these through the lab," Margot says, labeling the vials carefully. "Should have preliminary results in a few hours." "Good. I'll need detailed records of everything you've tried so far. Every treatment, every dr*g, every magical intervention." "I'll have it sent to your room." She pauses. "We've prepared guest quarters for you in the west wing." Not the Luna's suite. Not even the family wing. Guest quarters, like I'm a stranger. Which I suppose I am now. "Fine." I start packing my equipment. "I'll review the records tonight and develop a treatment plan." "Elite Warrior Gray?" Margot's voice is gentle. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. For what happened to you here. You didn't deserve it." I zip my bag with more force than necessary. "It doesn't matter what I deserved. It matters what happened." She nods and gathers the blood samples. "I'll be in the lab if you need anything." The door closes behind her, leaving me alone with Serena. The silence stretches. I should leave too. Should go find my room, review medical files, keep this professional. Instead, I find myself staring at the woman in the bed. The woman who destroyed my life. "Isla." Her voice is barely a breath. I don't answer. Don't move. "I'm sorry." A single tear slides down her gaunt cheek. "I know it doesn't matter. I know sorry doesn't fix anything. But I am. I'm so sorry." "Save your strength." My voice comes out colder than I intended. "You'll need it for treatment." "I don't care about me." Her hand moves to her swollen belly. "Please. I know you hate me. I know you have every right to let me die. But my baby... she didn't do anything wrong. She's innocent." I should feel vindicated. Should enjoy watching her beg. Instead, I just feel tired. "I'm here for the child," I say finally. "Not you." "That's all I ask." More tears now, silent and devastating. "Just save her. That's all that matters." I turn away, unable to watch her cry. Three years ago, I would have given anything to see Serena broken and begging. Now that it's happening, it just feels hollow. Maybe revenge always does. I'm preparing to leave when something catches my eye. The mate mark on Serena's wrist—I move closer, studying it more carefully. The black veins pulse faintly. Not with blood, but with something else. A purple light, so subtle I almost missed it. It glows and fades in a rhythm that doesn't match her heartbeat. Magic. Active magic. I pull out my scanner again, adjusting settings for magical detection. The readings spike immediately, showing sustained enchantment far beyond what normal bond poison would require. Someone isn't just poisoning Serena. Someone is actively maintaining the spell, feeding it power. Which means whoever did this is still close. Still watching. Still dangerous. The door opens behind me, and I spin, hand instinctively going to the silver blade I keep strapped to my t***h. A male voice, achingly familiar: "Isla? Is that really you?" I freeze. No. It can't be. Kieran Blackthorn stands in the doorway, and my entire world tilts sideways. He was supposed to be gone. Exiled after challenging Kade over my rejection. The last I heard, he'd left pack lands and never looked back. But here he is. Taller than I remember, lean muscle instead of Kade's bulk. Dark brown hair that catches auburn in the light, pulled back in a small tail. The scar running from temple to jaw—that's new. Evidence of battles I know nothing about. His amber eyes lock onto mine, and I see everything he's feeling: shock, relief, joy, pain. All of it n@ked on his face. "You came back," he breathes. I can't speak. Can't move. Three years of building walls, and Kieran Blackthorn just walked through them like they're made of smoke. Behind him, I hear footsteps. Voices. More pack members drawn by the commotion. And I'm trapped in the Luna's suite with my dying enemy, mysterious dark magic, and the man who nearly died defending my honor. The man whose eyes are asking questions I can't answer. The man who just complicated everything.

  For a moment, we just stare at each other across the Luna's suite. Kieran looks like he's seeing a ghost. I probably look the same.   Three years of exile carved lines into his face that weren't there before. The scar is the most obvious change—a vicious slash from his right temple down to his jaw that should have killed him. Whatever gave him that mark wanted him dead.   But his eyes. Those warm amber eyes that always saw too much are exactly the same.   "I heard you were here," he says, voice rough like he hasn't used it in a while. "I had to see for myself."   "You're supposed to be exiled." The words come out sharper than I intend. "What are you doing back?"   "Funny thing about exile." A ghost of a smile crosses his face. "It doesn't stick when your brother needs you."   Movement behind him draws my attention. Kade appears in the doorway, and the temperature in the room drops about ten degrees.   "Kieran." His voice is pure Alpha command. "I told you to wait downstairs."   "Yeah, well, I never was good at following orders." Kieran doesn't move, doesn't even look at his brother. His eyes stay locked on mine. "Especially when it comes to her."   The tension between them is palpable. Physical. Like electricity building before a storm.   Kade steps fully into the room, and suddenly the space feels impossibly small with both Blackthorn brothers in it. "This isn't the time—"   "When is the time, Kade?" Kieran finally turns, and I see the barely controlled anger in his posture. "You called me back because Serena is dying. Fine. I came. But you didn't mention that Isla would be here. You didn't think I deserved that warning?"   "I didn't think you'd come if I told you." Kade's jaw is tight. "And we need her."   "You need her," Kieran corrects. "Like you always need things from people without asking if they're willing to give them."   I should leave. This is clearly a family matter, and I'm not family. Haven't been for three years.   But I'm frozen, watching them face off like wolves establishing dominance. Which, I suppose, is exactly what's happening.   "That's enough." Margot's voice cuts through the tension. She's returned from the lab, carrying equipment for the transfusion. "Both of you, either help or get out. I have a patient to treat."   Kieran backs down first, but not before shooting Kade a look that promises this conversation isn't over. He moves to the far wall, leaning against it with forced casualness. But I notice his hands are clenched into fists.   Kade doesn't move. "What do you need from Isla?"   "Blood transfusion." Margot starts prepping the IV setup with practiced efficiency. "Her bloodline carries properties that may neutralize the dark magic. We'll start with a direct transfusion and monitor the response."   "You're going to drain her to save Serena?" Kieran's voice is dangerously quiet. "After everything? You're going to use her like a blood bank?"   "It's not like that—" Kade starts.   "Then what's it like, brother?" Kieran pushes off the wall. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks exactly like you using her. Again."   "Stop." My voice cuts through their argument. Both brothers turn to look at me. "I'm standing right here. You want to know what I think? Ask me."   Silence falls. Margot continues her setup, but I can feel her attention on us.   "I'll do it," I say, meeting Kieran's gaze first, then Kade's. "For the child. She's innocent in all of this."   Relief floods Kade's face. "Thank you, Isla. I know this isn't—"   "I'm not doing it for you." The correction is necessary. Important. "I'm doing it because a baby shouldn't die for her parents' mistakes."   Kieran's expression shutters. "You're too good for them. For all of us."   I don't respond to that. Can't, because if I do, I might fall apart.   "Let's get this done." I sit in the chair Margot has positioned beside Serena's bed.   Kade hesitates, then nods. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."   He leaves, but Kieran stays. Plants himself in the corner like a guard dog, arms crossed, watching everything.   "You don't have to stay," I tell him as Margot swabs my inner elbow with antiseptic.   "I know." He doesn't elaborate.   Margot works quickly, inserting the IV needle with barely a pinch. My blood flows through clear tubing into a collection bag, then through a filter system, and finally into Serena's IV line.   The effect is almost immediate. The black veins on Serena's arms lighten slightly, fading from pure black to dark gray. Her breathing evens out. The monitors show her heart rate stabilizing.   "It's working," Margot murmurs, making notes on her chart. "The Moon-Blessed properties are actively combating the dark magic."   I watch my blood flow into Serena and feel... nothing. Should I feel something? Satisfaction? Vindication?   Instead, there's just emptiness.   "How long will this take?" Kieran asks from his corner.   "Twenty minutes for the full transfusion." Margot checks my vitals. "Blood pressure good, heart rate stable. How do you feel, Isla?"   "Fine." But even as I say it, something shifts. A pull, deep in my chest. Not painful, but wrong. Like something inside me is reaching for something it shouldn't.   I blink, trying to clear the sudden dizziness.   "Isla?" Kieran moves closer. "You okay?"   "Yeah, I just..." The room tilts. My skin feels too hot, then too cold. The pull intensifies, becoming almost magnetic.   "Margot," I manage. "Something's wrong."   She's already moving, checking the IV connection, adjusting monitors. "Vitals are spiking. Heart rate elevated. Blood pressure dropping."   The pull becomes a hook, dragging something from deep inside me toward Serena. Toward the baby.   "Stop it," I gasp. "Stop the transfusion."   Margot's hands fly to the IV, but before she can disconnect it, my vision goes white.   The world disappears.   For a moment, I'm floating in pure light. And I'm not alone. There's another presence there with me—small, innocent, untouched by the darkness consuming its mother.   The baby. I can feel her. Her heartbeat synchronizes with mine.   Then reality crashes back.   I'm falling, the chair tipping backward. Strong arms catch me before I hit the floor.   "Isla!" Kieran's voice, panicked. "Margot, what's happening?"   "I don't—she's seizing—"   "GET MY BROTHER!" Kieran roars.   The world swims. I can hear voices, feel hands on me, but everything is distant and distorted.   Then Margot's voice cuts through, sharp with fear: "Oh goddess. Oh no."   "What?" Kade's voice now. When did he get here? "What's wrong with her?"   "Her body..." Margot sounds shaken. "It's creating a blood bond with the child. Not with Serena—with the baby. The Moon-Blessed bloodline is anchoring to the unborn heir."   "What does that mean?" Kade demands.   "It means..." Margot's next words sound like a death sentence. "It means Isla is now supernaturally connected to the child. If she leaves before the baby is born, the severed connection will kill them both."   Silence. Complete, devastating silence.   "How long?" I heard myself ask. The words sound far away.   "Serena is four months along. The baby needs at least five more months to reach viability. Then probably another week or two for safe delivery." Margot's hands shake as she checks the monitors. "Isla, you're tied to Blackthorn territory for at least six months. Maybe longer."   Six months.   The number echoes in my skull like a death knell.   Six months in the place that destroyed me. Six months with the mate who rejected me. Six months away from Asher, who thinks I'll be home in three days.   "No." I couldn't help murmuring, in a voice that no one else could hear. "No, that's not possible. My son…I have to get back to my son."   I was almost about to faint. Kieran's arms tighten around me, but his expression was just filled with tension and worry. He must not have caught the words buried in my broken whisper.   But Kade goes completely still.   My blood turns to ice.   Of course. The Alpha hearing. He couldn't have missed any sound in the room.   His head snaps toward me, green eyes narrowing. Then he crosses the room, stops directly in front of me, shock and suspicion warring across his face.   "What did you just say?"   I stare at him, every single nerve screaming at me to run.   Kade's gaze locks onto mine.   "Isla..." His voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "You have a… son?"