Damon pressed the phone harder to his ear, jaw tightening as the automated voice echoed back at him: The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.

He lowered the phone slowly, eyes narrowing, the silence in the room thick with his rage.

"So, that's how it is?" he muttered under his breath, voice low and dangerous. His knuckles whitened around the device. "One fight, and now she thinks she can play games with me? She pulls that ridiculous bond-dissolution stunt, and now-what? Vanishes? Won't even pick up her damn phone?"

I am an Alpha, he smirked.

The bitterness in his tone was sharp enough to cut glass. He let out a dark, humorless laugh. "Fine. Let her. When she comes crawling back, and she will. And then I'll make sure she regrets every second of it."

His thoughts were interrupted by Caleb's cries, high-pitched and raw. He couldn't believe he was his son. The sound drilled into his skull, worsening the pounding hangover already tearing through him. Damon pinched the bridge of his nose and barked out, "Enough!" before dialing the pack doctor.

The man answered quickly, voice calm, too calm for Damon's liking. After a few questions, the doctor's verdict was clear: "He'll be fine, Alpha. Just bruises. With his wolf blood, he'll heal in less than a day."

Damon's irritation only deepened. His lip curled, and he exhaled a sharp breath through his nose. "Then stop wasting my time with noise," he snapped, his voice like the crack of a whip.

He shoved the phone into his pocket and turned on the others lingering in the room. "All of you, out." His glare silenced any protest. "Take Caleb to school. Now."

The order rang absolute, cold as steel.

No one dared argue.

Caleb's cries only grew louder when the attendants tried to tug him toward the door. He clutched his sore arm to his chest, tears streaking his face as he turned to his father.

"Dad, please! I'm not feeling well. I can't go to school like this!" His voice cracked with desperation.

Damon's head lifted slowly, his dark gaze pinning the boy in place. The room went deathly still, everyone sensing the storm about to break.

"So what if you're not well?" Damon's tone was ice, threaded with disdain. He rose to his feet, towering over his son. "You will be well. That's how it works. You are supposed to heal, to endure. Consider this your test as the next Alpha."

Caleb's sobs shook his small frame. "But it hurts," he whispered, clutching tighter at his arm.

The sound grated against Damon's ears. His expression hardened, cruelty slipping through like cracks in stone.

"Pathetic," he bit out. His voice was low, but the sting of it was sharper than any slap. "Crying over bruises? You call yourself my son? You're a waste of Alpha blood."

The words cut through the boy like a blade. Caleb's face crumpled, his sobs turning ragged, but he didn't argue. He couldn't.

The others in the room lowered their gazes, fear and unease pooling in the silence. No one dared speak for the boy. Not when Damon Blackthorn had spoken.

The pack doctor lingered, shifting on his feet, then finally cleared his throat. "Alpha. forgive me for asking, but. are you well? Do you need anything for the pain? Medicine, perhaps?"

Damon's head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing into a lethal glare. The cold edge in his voice froze the room. "I said everything is fine. Do I look like I need your pity?"

The doctor lowered his gaze instantly. "Of course not, Alpha." With that, silence swallowed the room again.

An hour dragged by, thick with Damon's brooding presence. He sat back in the chair, one leg crossed, fingers drumming against the armrest as his thoughts circled back to Sloane. Her absence, her silence, it clawed at him, but in a twisted way, it only fed his pride.

Then, a knock broke the quiet. Soft at first, then louder.

A smirk curved across Damon's lips. Finally.

"She's ready to crawl back," he murmured, standing. His phone buzzed at the same time, vibrating against the table. He didn't bother to look, certain it was her. Certain she couldn't stay away.

The phone buzzed again, insistently. His anticipation rose like fire in his veins, a heady mix of triumph and satisfaction. He answered without hesitation, his voice cool, mocking. "Couldn't stay away, could you?"

But the reply wasn't Sloane's.

"Good afternoon, Alpha," a polite voice said. "We've arrived to begin redecorating young Master Caleb's room. May we come in?"

Damon froze. The smirk vanished, replaced with a blank stare. For the first time in hours, he said nothing, just silence, heavy and sharp.

The high he'd been riding crashed instantly, leaving only the bitter taste of disappointment in its place.

"Come another day." He didn't wait for a response, shoving the phone aside before sinking deeper into the leather chair, irritation clawing at his chest.

By evening, he sat at the long dining table, its polished surface gleaming under the warm lights. The staff moved silently around him, setting dish after dish, each detail perfect, just as it always had been. Damon picked up his fork, tasting the first bite. Familiar flavors. Order. Control. Nothing had changed.

For a moment, he let the food anchor him, ease the pounding in his temples. Good. Stable. Predictable.

But then he asked, almost absently, "Where are the mashed potatoes?"

The dish was placed before him quickly. Damon scooped a spoonful, brought it to his mouth.

And froze.

His expression darkened instantly. He set the spoon down with a sharp clink, the air around him crackling with tension. "What the hell is this?" His voice cut through the room like a blade. "I've never tasted something like this. Who let this leave the kitchen?"

The head chef stepped forward nervously, bowing his head. "Alpha, forgive me. I. I tried to replicate Luna's recipe. The staff have grown used to serving it her way. But-" He faltered, swallowing. "We ran out of her special sauce. That may be why it tastes different."

The name hit Damon like a slap. His grip on the fork tightened until the metal groaned.

Luna. Sloane. Always Sloane.

Even here, in his house, in his meals, she lingered like a shadow he couldn't shake.

He pushed the plate away, disgust and fury twisting in his gut. His jaw clenched as his eyes narrowed, sharp with promise.

"She thinks she can leave me behind. She thinks she can play her games and walk away untouched." His voice was low, almost a growl, meant only for himself.

Damon leaned back, a cruel smirk tugging at his mouth as his anger burned into resolve.

"She won't get far. I'll make her pay."

The emergency ward buzzed with the usual chaos, stretchers rolling past, monitors beeping, and the low hum of voices layered over the sharp calls of nurses. Sloane moved through it all with practiced calm, her white coat swaying behind her as she charted down vitals.

Jeremy trailed behind her like a little shadow, his small hand clutching the edge of her coat. Eight years old and far too quiet for his age, he followed wherever she went. She didn't mind, his presence had become something she'd grown used to, a steady rhythm in the whirlwind of the hospital.

But then she noticed it.

Near the far corner, an injured man lay on a gurney, surrounded by a wall of black-clad bodyguards. Their presence was a sharp contrast to the sterile hospital scene.

The shadowclaw territory was deep in war like situation. The territory was rich therefore mant packs wanted the share of it.

Sloane frowned. Security details weren't uncommon, but the way they stood, unyielding, tense, made the air feel heavier.

She straightened her shoulders and approached.

"I need to check on him," she said firmly, stepping closer. "I'm the attending doctor."

One of the bodyguards blocked her path instantly, his glare cold enough to burn. "You can't touch our boss." His voice was laced with disdain. "You're not worthy enough."

Before she could react, his hand shoved her back, not hard enough to injure, but enough to humiliate. Sloane's breath hitched, her jaw tightening.

"Hey!" Jeremy burst out, stepping forward with his little fists balled up. But when he tried to shield her, the bodyguard shoved him too. The boy stumbled backward, almost hitting the ground.

That was when the air changed.

A surge of power swept through the ward, invisible yet suffocating. The hairs on the back of Sloane's neck stood on end as a deep, primal energy pressed down on everyone present.

Dominic had entered.

His eyes burned with fury, his Alpha aura unfurling like a storm. The bodyguards faltered, their hands twitching, feet shifting nervously as fear prickled through them. Even the injured man on the gurney seemed to stir under the weight of it.

But before the man could speak, before Sloane could even reach him, the bodyguards dragged him away in a rush, vanishing down the hall with mechanical efficiency.

The tension lingered in the air like smoke after fire.

Sloane turned, her pulse still racing, and found Dominic's gaze locked on hers.

For a heartbeat, the chaos of the ward seemed to fall away. His eyes held hers, dark, intense, carrying the weight of power and something else she couldn't name. She felt it deep in her chest, a pull she hadn't expected.

Jeremy clung to her side, but neither she nor Dominic looked away.

Something had shifted.

Sloane fell into step beside Dominic as the gurney disappeared down the corridor. The silence between them pressed heavier than the Alpha's aura still lingering in the air. Finally, she asked, her voice steady though her chest was tight,

"Do you. know that man?"

Dominic's jaw tightened, his gaze fixed forward. But he didn't answer. His silence was louder than any words.

Sloane's brows furrowed, unease pricking her. She shook it off and pushed open the doors to the emergency room.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense, panic humming beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. The injured man lay pale and sweating on the table, his chest heaving, while several doctors and nurses clustered around him. Their hurried movements carried an undercurrent of fear, not competence.

When their eyes landed on her, the shift was instant.

"You shouldn't be here," one doctor snapped. "Leave at once."

"I'm a doctor," Sloane replied firmly, stepping closer to the bed.

The man groaned low in his throat, his hand curling weakly against the sheet. His aura was volatile, barely contained, as if his very presence burned.

The male nurse nearest to him rounded on Sloane. "Can't you see his anger? You'll only make it worse. Step back before you endanger us all."

Another doctor moved toward her, hand raised to usher her out. "You're too young. Treating him isn't something you can shoulder."

They were seconds away from physically escorting her out when the door slammed open behind them.

Dominic entered.

The room stilled immediately, his presence commanding silence. His gaze cut through the doctors before settling on Sloane. "What's happening here?"

One of the senior physicians spoke quickly, nervously. "Alpha, with respect, letting her near him is a risk. She insists she can treat him, but she isn't experienced enough. This is beyond her capacity."

Dominic's eyes flicked back to Sloane, his expression unreadable. "Are you confident you can treat him?"

Every gaze in the room turned toward her, the weight of skepticism pressing down.

Sloane lifted her chin. "Yes. I am blessed with the Moon Goddess's divine power." Her voice did not waver, even as the room erupted in disbelief.

"That's reckless!" one of the doctors argued. "My Alpha, trusting her is a gamble. If she fails, the consequences"

"Enough." Dominic's tone cut like steel.

He didn't look at them. His eyes never left Sloane's.

The metallic tang of blood clung to the air as Justin Frank lay motionless on the table, his skin pale and clammy, the shallow rise and fall of his chest a battle barely fought. Machines beeped, doctors circled, and desperation thickened like smoke.

Dominic's presence cut through it all like a blade. Then his voice came, deep and commanding.

"Sloane. Start healing him."

Every head snapped toward her, standing near the wall.

One of the senior doctors took a step forward. "Alpha, with respect, this man's injuries are beyond repair. Even with her ability, if she intervenes and fails."

Dominic's gaze fell on him, a weight no one could bear for long. His wolf surged just beneath his skin, invisible yet suffocating. The man faltered, words drying in his throat, and stepped back in silence.

"Now," Dominic ordered again, softer but more dangerous.

Sloane moved, brushing past the others. Their expressions twisted in veiled relief. Let her take the fall, their thoughts whispered silently. Better her reputation ruined than ours. None of them believed Justin could survive.

She laid her palms over his battered chest, her breathing steadying as she sank into the rhythm of both her medical training and the spark of power thrumming in her veins. Her voice murmured instructions, sharp and precise, as if she were conducting a symphony of medicine and magic.

At first, Justin's pulse faltered, each beat weaker than the last. Sweat beaded at her temples, her hands glowing faintly with the warmth of healing energy. The room held its breath. Then suddenly the monitor spiked. His breathing grew stronger. His skin flushed with color. The impossible became reality.

The doctors froze, disbelief etched into every line of their faces. He's alive. She did it.

Dominic's lips curved into a rare smile, pride gleaming in his eyes. Relief washed through Sloane like a tide, her body sagging slightly as the tension drained from her shoulders.

She did it. She knew she could but this, this felt like a dream come true. She was truly talented and now everybody in the room respected her for her talent.

Moments later, outside the emergency room, the heavy doors swung shut behind them. The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth. Dominic turned to her.

"You saved him," he said quietly. "Thank you."

Sloane's gaze flicked up to meet his, unwavering. "I'll accept your thanks, Alpha Volkov. But I need something in return."

His brows arched, interest sharpening his features. "Name it."

"I need protection," she said, voice firm. "Not only here in this territory. Everywhere. No matter where I am. Is there any expiry date on it?"

Dominic's wolf stirred at the challenge in her tone. He didn't hesitate. "Then you have it. As long as you walk this earth, my protection is yours."

Her shoulders eased, a hint of relief softening her face.

"The deal ends," he added, his eyes locking with hers, "only when you say it does."

The promise still lingered in the air between them when Dominic's expression shifted, unreadable but firm.

"There's one more thing, Miss Sloane," he said. "You'll move back into my villa."

Her brows arched in suspicion, lips parting. So that's why he agreed so quickly, she thought bitterly. She crossed her arms. "Is that the real price for your protection, Alpha? Forcing me under your roof?"

Dominic's gaze softened, the weight of his aura easing just enough to make his next words feel strangely personal. "It's because of Jeremy."

Her irritation faltered. "Jeremy? Is he sick?"

A small smirk tugged at Dominic's lips. "No. He just. likes you. More than you know. And when he's happy, his health improves. He'll get stronger if you're around."

For a long heartbeat she studied him, looking for any hint of manipulation, but found only honesty. She knew something was wrong with Jeremy, and it felt like Dominic did not know what was going on with his nephew. If she agrees she could take care of Jeremy and by the moon goddess wished she could heal him too.

With a sigh, she relented. "Fine. I'll go."

**

That night, she settled into the unfamiliar luxury of his home, though sleep evaded her. The moonlight spilled silver across the polished floors as she drifted through the darkened halls, her curiosity pulling her forward.

Then she froze.

In the living room, Dominic sat hunched on the couch, his usually controlled posture crumbling. His entire face was flushed crimson, veins bulging at his temples and neck, as if his body was rebelling against him. His hands clenched the cushions like claws.

"Dominic!" she cried, rushing forward.

Almost instantly, one of his doctors appeared carrying a small case. The man hurried to Dominic's side, thrusting a handful of pills into his palm. Dominic swallowed them down with a pained growl.

Sloane's voice shook. "What happened to him?"

The doctor spared her a glance, grim but calm. "Alpha is allergic to milk."

Her stomach dropped. Guilt slammed into her chest, cold and merciless. She had offered him the warm glass only hours earlier, trying to bridge the distance between them. "Oh goddess. I. I didn't know."

Dominic's hand shot up, stopping her words. Even now, sweat glistening across his skin, his voice carried command. "Stay away, Miss Sloane."

But she couldn't. Her feet moved before her mind could stop them. She knelt beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, close enough to see the cracks in his mask of control.

"Dominic." she whispered, her hand almost reaching for his.

His chest rose sharply, the tips of his ears burning red. For the first time, the cold, untouchable Alpha looked. flustered. Vulnerable. Her nearness stirred something wild in him, and when his eyes flicked to hers, the intensity there made her breath catch.

Dominic, the man feared by all, was blushing.

Unaware of Dominic's dilemma, Sloane stayed by his side until the angry flush in his face began to fade, until his breathing leveled out into something steadier, less raw. The doctor quietly retreated after handing him water, but lingered in the corner, rigid as stone, clearly praying not to be noticed.

Sloane exhaled, her guilt twisting tight in her chest. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "If I'd known, I never would've offered it. I should have asked first. I should've known."

Dominic's eyes flicked toward her, the storm in them unreadable.

She pressed on, her voice softer. "So this. this whole mess arose because of me."

The words hung between them. Even the doctor shifted uneasily, plastering himself against the wall as if distance might save him from the Alpha's temper.

The proximity between them still felt dangerous, charged with something she couldn't name. Finally, she forced the question out, her tone betraying both her fear and defiance.

"How. how are you going to make me pay for this?"

The room went still.

Her heart thudded against her ribs, every instinct screaming at her to retreat, but her body wouldn't move. She was too close, close enough to feel the heat of him, close enough to see the faint blush still burning beneath his skin.

But Dominic's lips curved, slow, deliberate, wolfish.