The tablet screen glared up at me, the stark white light illuminating the names that had haunted my nightmares for five long years.

*Alpha Dereck. Luna Isabelle. Silver River Pack.*

My hand hovered over the digital file, a tremor starting in my fingertips. I clenched my fist immediately, digging my nails into my palm until the sharp sting grounded me. I was not that girl anymore. I was not the wolfless, pathetic little thing that Dereck had thrown away like garbage. I was Katherine, the most sought-after fertility Healer in the state, and I had a waiting list three months long.

I stood up and walked to the stainless steel counter, focusing on the rhythmic *clink, clink, clink* of arranging my silver instruments. Speculum. Forceps. Ultrasound wand. Each tool was cold, precise, and unfeeling. Just like I needed to be.

"Dr. Katherine? They're here," my receptionist’s voice crackled over the intercom, sounding breathless. Alpha auras usually had that effect on humans, even weak Alphas like Dereck.

"Send them in," I replied, my voice steady.

The heavy oak door swung open, and the air in my pristine clinic shifted instantly. First, it was the scent. Pine and rain—Dereck’s scent. It hit me like a physical blow to the chest, awakening the dormant wolf inside me. She didn’t whimper this time; she growled, a low, rumbling vibration in my chest that only I could feel. But then came the second scent, choking and cloying—synthetic roses and expensive perfume, trying desperately to mask the sour tang of insecurity.

Isabelle.

I turned slowly, smoothing the front of my white lab coat.

Dereck froze in the doorway. His eyes, the color of stormy seas, widened as they swept over me. I knew what he was expecting: the skinny, hunch-shouldered girl he had rejected. Instead, he was looking at a woman who stood tall, her hair glossy and full, her skin glowing with the subtle, hum of a powerful aura. I saw his nostrils flare, inhaling deeply. He could smell it—I wasn't wolfless. Not anymore.

"Katherine?" he breathed, the name falling from his lips like a prayer.

Isabelle’s head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing into slits. She hooked her arm aggressively through his, her claws digging into his bicep hard enough to draw blood. She tilted her head, deliberately exposing the mating mark on her neck—a jagged, ugly scar that Dereck had left there five years ago.

"It’s *Doctor* now, isn't it?" Isabelle sneered, though her voice wavered slightly as she took in the luxury of my office. "I suppose it’s good you found a service job that suits you, sister. Cleaning up after real wolves."

"It is a medical practice, Luna Isabelle," I said, my tone cool and devoid of emotion. I gestured to the exam table. "And I charge a premium for my 'service.' Please, lie down. We don't have much time."

Isabelle huffed, releasing Dereck to clamber onto the table. Dereck remained standing near the door, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. He looked tired. The lines around his eyes were deep, and the gray in his hair was premature for a werewolf. The Goddess hadn't been kind to him.

I snapped on a pair of latex gloves and moved to the table. "Lift your shirt."

Isabelle obeyed, exposing her flat, pale stomach. As I applied the cooling gel, my hand brushed against Dereck’s arm where he was leaning against the table for support.

*Zap.*

A spark of electricity, hot and undeniable, shot through my fingers and up my arm. The Mate Bond. It was tattered and rejected, but it was still there, lurking in the shadows.

Dereck gasped, jerking his hand back as if burned. "Katherine, did you feel—"

"Quiet, please," I interrupted sharply, picking up the ultrasound wand. "I need to concentrate."

I pressed the wand against Isabelle’s skin, staring at the monitor. The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the hum of the machine. On the screen, the image was clear. Physically, her uterus was intact. There were no cysts, no scarring from injuries.

But to a Healer’s sight, the image told a different story. The energy flow was stagnant. Dead.

I moved the wand, checking the ovaries. Dark. lifeless.

I wiped the gel from her stomach and stripped off my gloves, tossing them into the biohazard bin with a definitive *thud*.

"Well?" Isabelle demanded, sitting up and pulling her shirt down. "Give me the fertility potion. Or is it a spell? Whatever it is you do."

I picked up my tablet and typed a few notes before looking her dead in the eye. "There is no potion for this, Isabelle."

"What do you mean?" Dereck stepped forward, his alpha tone bleeding into his voice. "Fix her."

"I cannot fix what the Moon Goddess has sealed," I said calmly.

The color drained from Isabelle’s face.

"Your wolf," I continued, looking at my stepsister with clinical detachment, "is constitutionally too weak to carry an Alpha heir. The strain of an Alpha pup would kill you within the first trimester. Your body knows this. It is rejecting conception to save your life."

It was the ultimate insult in our world. To be a Luna was to be the mother of the pack. To be told she was too weak—weaker than the sister she had tormented for years—was a death sentence to her ego.

"You're lying!" Isabelle shrieked, sliding off the table. "You're lying because you're jealous! You want him back! You're cursing me!"

"I am diagnosing you," I corrected, my voice hard. I turned my gaze to Dereck. He wasn't looking at Isabelle. He was staring at me, horror dawning on his face as the weight of his past choices crashed down on him. He had rejected his true mate for strength, only to bind himself to a weakness that would end his bloodline.

"The Goddess doesn't make mistakes, Alpha Dereck," I said softly, twisting the knife. "But wolves certainly do."

The silence in my office following their departure was heavy, but it was the kind of heaviness that comes after a storm—the air charged with ozone and debris. I walked to the window, peering through the slats of the blinds. Down in the parking lot, the sleek silver sedan of the Alpha sat idling.

I could see Isabelle inside. Even from three stories up, her silhouette was a chaotic blur of motion. She was thrashing, likely screaming, her hands striking the dashboard. She was throwing a tantrum, a child told she could not have the one toy she believed she was entitled to: a legacy.

But Dereck wasn't in the car.

He was standing on the asphalt, his expensive suit jacket discarded in the passenger seat, his white dress shirt straining against his shoulders. He wasn't looking at his distraught mate. He was looking up. Straight at my window.

Our eyes didn't meet—he couldn't see me through the blinds—but I felt his gaze like a physical touch. It was heavy, cloying, and suffocating.

Then, the pressure came.

It started as a dull throb at the base of my skull, a mental intrusion trying to force its way into my consciousness. *Katherine.* The voice was faint, distorted, like a radio signal struggling through static. He was attempting to mind-link me. He was trying to use the tattered remnants of the bond he had rejected five years ago to force a conversation I had no interest in having.

I didn't have to build a mental wall. I didn't have to expend a single ounce of energy to block him.

The moment his mental tendrils brushed against my psyche, the mark on my neck flared. It wasn't painful; it was a protective, possessive burn. Knox’s essence, woven into the very fabric of my soul, rose up like a fortress of black iron.

*Mine,* the Lycan power seemed to growl, not at me, but at the intruder.

Down in the parking lot, Dereck flinched violently. He stumbled back a step, clutching his temple as if someone had struck him. The connection severed instantly, snapping back on him with the force of a whip. He stared up at the window, his expression shifting from determination to something that looked pitifully like horror. He had finally realized that the door wasn't just closed; it was barred by a beast far stronger than him.

I turned away from the window and went back to work.

***

The offensive began on Tuesday.

It started with flowers. Not the typical roses one might send to a lover, but Midnight Lilies—rare, nocturnal blooms that grew only on the shadowed side of the mountain. They were incredibly expensive, and they were my mother’s favorite.

"Delivery for Dr. Katherine," my receptionist, Sarah, chirped, carrying the massive arrangement into my office. The scent was overpowering, sweet and heavy.

There was a card tucked into the velvet ribbon. I opened it with a scalpel, not wanting to touch it with my bare skin.

*Fate cannot be undone. We need to talk. Please. —D*

"Take them out," I said, my voice flat.

Sarah blinked, her smile faltering. "Doctor? They're gorgeous. They must have cost a fortune."

"They trigger my allergies," I lied smoothly. "Dispose of them. In the dumpster, not the breakroom."

On Wednesday, it was a box of surgical instruments forged from pure silver, the handles inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The note this time was more desperate: *I made a mistake. Let me explain.*

On Thursday, a crate of rare medicinal herbs arrived—Sun-dried Valerian and Moon-blessed Sage, ingredients I used for fertility treatments that were nearly impossible to source. The bribery was becoming specific. He was trying to appeal to the Healer because the woman had already rejected him.

*I can give you the resources you deserve. You shouldn't be working so hard. Come home.*

Home. The word made bile rise in my throat.

"Send it back," I instructed Sarah, who was now looking at me with a mixture of awe and confusion. "Mark it 'Return to Sender.' If anything else comes from the Silver River Pack, refuse delivery."

Dereck was trying to buy his way back into my life, thinking that expensive herbs and pretty words could patch over the scar tissue of five years of abandonment. He didn't understand that I wasn't the girl who needed his validation anymore. I didn't need his resources. I had my own.

But while Dereck was trying to woo me with gifts, Isabelle was busy sharpening her knives.

By Friday afternoon, the atmosphere in the hospital had shifted. It was subtle at first—whispers that stopped abruptly when I turned a corner, side-glances from nurses I had mentored for years. The respect I had painstakingly built brick by brick was cracking.

I was reviewing a patient's chart at the nurses' station when I heard it. Two young Omegas were scrubbing the floor in the waiting area, their voices low but carrying in the sterile silence.

"...heard she used blood magic," one whispered.

"No way. Dr. Katherine?"

"That's what Luna Isabelle said at the pack gathering last night. She said the Doctor is jealous. That she cursed the Luna's womb so she couldn't give the Alpha an heir. She called her a vengeful witch."

My grip on the tablet tightened until the screen creaked.

Isabelle.

She couldn't accept the medical reality—that her own body was too weak, that the Goddess had judged her unworthy. So, she had decided to rewrite the narrative. If she couldn't be the victim of biology, she would be the victim of my malice. She was weaponizing her incompetence to destroy my career.

"Dr. Katherine?"

I turned to see Elena, the head of the Hospital Board, standing in the doorway of her office. Her face was grim, her usual warm demeanor replaced by a stiff formality.

"Can you come in for a moment?" Elena asked, adjusting her glasses. "We've received some... concerning complaints regarding your practice."

I set the chart down on the counter with a deliberate, calm click. The gifts were an annoyance, but this? This was war. Dereck wanted to talk about fate, but Isabelle was determined to burn my future to the ground to hide her own failure.

I squared my shoulders, feeling the phantom weight of Knox’s mark burning against my skin, reminding me of who I really belonged to. I wasn't the weak wolf they remembered.

"Certainly, Elena," I said, my voice ice-cold. "I have plenty to say."

Elena sighed, rubbing her temples as she looked over the rim of her glasses. "Katherine, you know I respect your work. You're the best fertility specialist we have. But Isabelle is the Luna of the Silver River Pack. Her word carries weight, even if it's... emotional."

"Accusing a Healer of blood magic isn't emotional, Elena. It's defamation," I replied, sliding a manila folder across her mahogany desk. "And it's easily disproven."

Elena opened the file, her brow furrowing. "What is this?"

"Isabelle's complete hormonal panel and the ultrasound imaging from yesterday. Look at the uterine wall thickness. Look at the follicle count." I pointed to the grainy black-and-white images, my finger tracing the undeniable lines of failure. "Her wolf isn't cursed. It's practically dormant. Her body is producing elevated levels of cortisol that are actively attacking any potential conception. It’s an autoimmune response to stress and incompatibility."

Elena adjusted her glasses, her eyes scanning the data intently. "Incompatibility? With the Alpha?"

"With the rank," I corrected coldly. "Her body knows what her ego refuses to accept. She cannot carry an Alpha heir. If she did, the pup's aura would likely kill her before the second trimester. It is a biological safety mechanism."

Elena closed the folder, a look of profound relief washing over her face. She sat back, the tension leaving her shoulders. "Biology. Not witchcraft."

"Science," I said, standing up and smoothing my skirt. "If she wants to drag this before the Council, I will present this data. I will testify that I am trying to save her life, while she is trying to destroy my reputation with fairy tales."

Elena nodded firmly. "I'll handle the Board. You're clear, Katherine. Go take a break."

I walked out of the office, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs despite my calm exterior. Dealing with pack politics was exhausting, a dance of knives I had hoped to leave behind years ago. I needed a moment. I needed to breathe.

I ducked into the sterile supply room at the end of the hall, intending to grab a fresh box of gloves and maybe scream into a pillow. But as the heavy door clicked shut behind me, the air in the small room instantly grew heavy.

The scent of pine and rain suffocated me.

"You're hard to catch," a deep voice rumbled from the shadows between the shelving units.

I spun around, my back hitting the door. Dereck was leaning against a stack of saline crates, his arms crossed over his chest. His suit jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up, and his eyes were dark, swirling with an emotion I couldn't place.

"This is a restricted area," I snapped, reaching behind me for the door handle. "Get out."

"I'm the Alpha," he said, pushing off the shelves and taking a step toward me. The small room suddenly felt microscopic. "Restricted doesn't apply to me. And we aren't done talking."

"I have nothing to say to you, Dereck. I gave you my diagnosis. Go home to your wife."

"Katherine!" His voice dropped, resonating with that guttural, vibrating power that was supposed to force submission. The Alpha Tone. It hit the air like a physical wave, designed to crush the will of anyone lower in the hierarchy. "**Stop and listen to me!**"

In the past, that tone would have forced my knees to the floor. My wolf would have whimpered, bared her neck, and begged for forgiveness.

But today?

I felt the command hit my chest, and then... nothing.

It shattered against my skin like glass hitting a stone wall. My wolf didn't cower. She rose. A surge of power, cool and metallic, flooded my veins. My aura flared, expanding outward in a blinding flash of silver light that filled the cramped room. It wasn't just a Healer's aura anymore; it was sharpened by the Lycan mark on my neck, fortified by the love of a male who actually worthy of the title.

Dereck stumbled back, shielding his eyes as if looking into the sun. "What..." He gasped, staring at me as if I were a ghost. "You... you didn't submit."

"I don't submit to you," I said, my voice steady and laced with my own power. "Not anymore."

He looked at me, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the scent of my power. Confusion warred with something darker, hungrier. His gaze dropped to my hands, which were glowing faintly with silver energy. "You're so strong," he whispered, stepping closer again, ignoring the warning growl of my aura. "You're radiant. Why did you hide this? Why were you so pathetic back then?"

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "Pathetic?"

"You were wolfless!" Dereck shouted, his frustration boiling over, his logic twisted by grief. "You were weak, Katherine! I needed a Luna who could stand beside me, not a liability I had to protect! If you had been this strong five years ago, I never would have rejected you! I wouldn't have had to choose Isabelle!"

The injustice of it tore through my composure. The memory of that night—the blood, the pain, the cold snow—flashed before my eyes. The years of silence, of letting him believe his own narrative, ended now.

"I wasn't weak!" I screamed, the professional mask finally shattering.

I advanced on him, and for the first time, the Alpha of the Silver River Pack took a step back from me.

"Do you remember the Rogue attack at the Northern Border? Six months before our eighteenth birthday?" I demanded, my voice shaking with fury.

Dereck blinked, confused by the change of subject. "Yes. I took down three rogues. I was injured, but I healed in hours. It was a sign of my Alpha strength."

"You didn't heal yourself, you arrogant fool!" I spat the words at him. "A rogue's claw shredded your femoral artery. You were bleeding out in the snow. You were gray. You were dying."

His face went pale, the color draining away as the memory resurfaced. "No... I woke up fine..."

"Because I was there!" I slammed my hand against a metal shelf, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "I found you. I didn't have my shift yet, but I had my gift. I poured every ounce of my essence into you. I stitched your artery with my own energy. I gave you my strength so you could live!"

Silence descended on the room, thick and suffocating. Dereck stared at me, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide with horror.

"That's why I didn't shift on my birthday," I whispered, the tears finally stinging my eyes—not from sadness, but from rage. "That's why I was 'weak.' That's why I was 'wolfless.' I was empty, Dereck. Because I gave everything to save you."

He reached out a trembling hand, as if to touch me, to verify the truth of my words. "You... you saved me? And I..."

"And you called me garbage," I finished, stepping out of his reach. "You rejected the person who kept you alive to marry a woman who can't even give you a child."

Dereck looked as though I had gutted him. The arrogance was gone, replaced by a crushing, devastating realization. He had thrown away his savior.

"Katherine," he choked out, falling to his knees on the linoleum floor, his head bowing low.

But I didn't stay to hear his apology. I unlocked the door and walked out, leaving the Alpha on his knees in a supply closet, finally crushed by the weight of his own sins.