"You need to have a doctor check that."

"It's... it always heals. Eventually." Liora's voice fades when she notices the anger tightening across my face. My eyes travel over the bruises littering her arms, the fading marks around her throat, the wound on her stomach she's trying to hide with that thin dress. My jaw tightens. "Did Trey do this?" I mutter through clenched teeth, gesturing toward her injuries. Her blue eyes drop instantly. "Liora?" Silence. "Cassius then? That idiot that trails behind Trey like a shadow? Or the other two mutts with him?" She pulls the dress tighter around herself and gives a small nod. Her fingers brush her cheek, wiping away a tear that slips out before she can stop it. "Anyone else?" I press.

"The pack," she whispers so quietly it's almost swallowed by the room. A low growl rumbles in my chest. I'm going to kill them all, Aero snarls inside my head. He'll have to get in line. "Because of what they think you did to your parents?" I ask. She nods again. "I don't believe you were responsible." That makes her finally look up. Confusion twists across her face as her brows pull together.

"Because of... Blood of Wolfsbane?" she murmurs. I blink. "Liora." "I... I don't know what Blood of Wolfsbane is," she says quietly. I frown. "Your brother said you knew plants. Said you could tell the difference between them."

"I... I can't remember everything," she admits, her voice barely above a breath. "Not properly." I rub a hand over my jaw. "Blood of Wolfsbane is wolfsbane fed with our blood. The leaves turn red. It's rare and dangerous. Packs don't grow it openly because of what it can do." I pause, watching her reaction.

"No child would know what it is unless someone taught them." Her eyes drop again. "Your brother's story doesn't add up," I mutter. "Someone lied." "Oh." The small word leaves her lips like she doesn't know what else to say. I push myself off the desk, staring down at her. "I won't stop until I find out who really did this to you, Liora," I tell her quietly, my crimson eyes narrowing. "And when I do, they'll pay for every second of suffering you endured." She stays silent, but I can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes.

"Right now though," I add, gesturing toward her stomach, "you need to see the pack doctor before that infection spreads." She presses her lips together and nods. "Come," I say, turning toward the door. "I'll show you our bedroom. You can shower first." She freezes instantly. I glance back over my shoulder. "Our bedroom?" she repeats softly like she isn't sure she heard me correctly.

Yes. Our.

The realization clearly hits her all at once. Her shoulders tense, a shiver running down her spine. She probably thinks I expect sex whenever I want because she's my contract bride. I pretend not to notice. Adjusting her dress to cover herself, she steps into the hallway behind me. The corridors are quiet, empty. Our footsteps echo softly against the polished floors. I point out a few rooms as we walk. "Training room. Library. Council room."

But honestly, I'm more focused on getting her cleaned up before that wound gets worse. When we reach my bedroom, she stops again. The room is massive, windows stretching from floor to ceiling, letting in pale light. The bed sits against the far wall, surrounded by thin drapes hanging from the ceiling and tied back loosely at each post. Her gaze drifts toward the bathroom area and she stiffens. The bath and shower sit openly within the room itself. Only the toilet is hidden behind a small door. No privacy. Not that I care. I step closer, leaning slightly toward her ear and she jumps when my breath brushes her skin.

"You don't need to be afraid," I murmur. Even if I couldn't smell another male on her, I'd still feel the shift in her emotions through the bond forming between us. Crossing the room, I pull open the glass shower door and turn the water on. Steam begins to fog the glass almost instantly. When I turn back, she's still standing exactly where I left her, staring like she's waiting for the trap to spring. I tilt her chin up with two fingers. "Hey," I say quietly. "It's just you and me." Her eyes widen slightly.

I pull my phone from my pocket and set an alarm before placing it on the bedside table. "Ten minutes," I tell her. "I'll come back then with clothes for you. Stay in the towel until I return. Understand?" She nods. No words. Just that small, nervous nod again. I move toward the door but pause with my hand resting on the knob. Glancing back at her, I sigh softly. "I really wish you'd talk more, Liora." Then I leave her alone. The moment the door closes, she rushes for the shower like she's escaping into another world. Maybe for her, it is. Warm water pours over her body as she scrubs away dirt and sweat. The scent of soap fills the room as she washes her hair, her skin, everything like she's trying to erase years of misery. The wound on her stomach burns under the hot water, but she doesn't stop. A simple shower must feel like heaven compared to whatever she had before.

Minutes pass. I return and clear my throat loudly. She freezes behind the fogged glass. "Liora," I call out. "The alarm went off five minutes ago." Silence. "Are you done?" "Coming," she mutters quickly. The water shuts off and a towel wraps tightly around her body before she steps out. Her torn dress, old underwear, and worn sandals are gone from the floor. I'm sitting at the edge of the bed holding folded clothes and a pair of trainers.

"It's not much," I say, handing them over. "We don't exactly have anyone with a waist as small as yours." The outfit is simple navy joggers and a matching sweatshirt. "And the underwear will arrive tomorrow morning," I add casually. "You'll have to survive without it tonight." I raise an eyebrow as she dresses quickly. Joggers first. Sweatshirt second. Then the towel drops and she tosses it aside without hesitation. No teasing, no flirting, no attempt to impress me. She refuses to even look at me. Interesting. Most women would be parading around naked right now if they were alone in my bedroom. Liora just looks like she wants to disappear.

"Let's go," I say, standing. This time she follows immediately. The pack hospital isn't far from the main house. The doctor working tonight is young, nothing like the ancient coward from her old pack. She looks up when we walk in, quickly tying her dark hair into a bun. "Raven," I say, gesturing to the girl beside me. "This is Liora." Liora keeps her eyes lowered.

"Alpha Dane," Raven greets with a friendly smile before glancing curiously at Liora. "What seems to be the problem... aside from the strange scent she brought with her?" The comment isn't cruel. Just curious.

"She'll tell you herself when she finds her tongue," I reply dryly.

"I have a wound," Liora whispers finally. Raven's brows knit together. "And you're not healing?"

"I... don't have my wolf." The words sound like a confession. Like shame.

"Her wolf was bound when she was a child," I explain calmly. "That's why her scent is strange. The wolf is still there... locked away and waiting to be freed." Liora's eyes flicker up at me in shock. She'd always believed her wolf was gone. Not trapped. Raven stares at her for a moment, clearly fascinated. "Wow... okay," she says softly before grabbing Liora's hand. "Come with me. Let's take a look at that wound of yours."

She leads me into a small, sterile room and motions for me to lie down. I hesitate, every instinct screaming not to. The wound is exposed just enough for her to see as I lift my sweatshirt.

Raven's eyes widen instantly, a flash of rage sparking across her sharp features as she takes in the deep bruising, the angry infection spreading across my skin. She presses around it with precision, careful, like she's handling something fragile yet dangerous. "How long has this been?" Her voice is calm but edged with steel. "A few days... maybe..." I mutter, uncertain. Each beating had blurred into the next. Days had no meaning when pain dominated them. Any day without a new mark had been a rare victory. Raven shakes her head sharply. "No. This has been festering for at least a week. The infection didn't just appear overnight. You need to be honest, Neah. Who did this?" I shrink into myself, a habit drilled into me over years of abuse. "I... I don't know," I whisper, my voice almost swallowed by the room. Alpha kael is there, looming without words, radiating an intensity that's impossible to ignore. His anger isn't loud, it doesn't roar. It pulses, silent but lethal. I flinch under its weight.

"LARA!" His voice rumbles through the room, deep, commanding, shaking my core. Punishment doesn't need hands; it lives in his tone, in the sheer presence of him. My stomach knots, old fears resurfacing, memories of a life where anger always brought pain. I close my eyes, too afraid to meet his gaze. Memories of Alpha Trey's punishments flash involuntarily the beatings, the degradation, the feeling that my existence was a problem. Those lessons run deep. This is worse somehow, being seen, revealed in a pack hospital that isn't mine, a room full of strangers who might not care if I survived. "Heal her!" Alpha Kael barks after a long pause, then storms from the room, pulling a phone from his pocket and pacing as he speaks. The air is thick with tension, every second stretching unbearably. "You'll have to forgive my brother. His temper is... short," Raven mutters, inspecting my wound carefully. "He hates seeing this, hates not knowing what's been done to you." "My brother?" I whisper, voice trembling slightly. I hadn't expected any family discussion in all this chaos. "Yes. And I'm guessing he never mentioned Jenson?" she adds with a wry smile. "Gamma of the family. He's been involved long before this day."

I shake my head, confused, piecing together fragments of what I know or think I know about the Moonshine Pack and the chaos that surrounds me.

"Gamma?" I murmur. A term that feels foreign, powerful, heavy. Raven chuckles lightly, distracted from the wound for a second. "Yes. Don't worry, the terms confuse everyone at first. Alpha kael is... complicated. Protective, controlling, effective.

You'll see it in action soon enough." She grabs a small jar of cream from the cabinet, reading off instructions. "Three times a day. Should start clearing the infection. If not, you'll come back and we'll try something stronger. Your brother waits out front; I'm sure he wants to speak with you after this." "Thanks," I whisper, barely meeting her gaze as I take the jar. The label is foreign to me. I can't read it, and the unfamiliarity makes me feel... small.

Not like the Alpha kael looming nearby, not like the monsters who made me this way, but small in the ordinary, mundane way of needing help. I hurry out to find Alpha kael pacing near the front. Phone forgotten, hands clasped behind him, eyes sharp. I show him the cream, and without comment, he takes it, flips open the lid, and applies it to the wound with his rough, precise hands. The contact sends a jolt through me. Not fear. Not pain.

Something else entirely unexpected, confusing.

"Don't lie to me," he says low and deliberate, voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "If you can't remember something, tell me. I don't guess, Neah. Ever." I nod, swallowing hard. I can barely form words under the weight of his stare. One hand steadies me, holding me firm, the other works the cream in carefully. It's... tender. Foreign. Dangerous in its unfamiliarity.

"You're afraid," he states again, eyes locked on mine. "Everyone is," I whisper, voice barely audible, my gaze dropping. "You're stronger than most," I add, compelled despite myself. "You've killed, conquered, absorbed. People fear you. It would be stupid not to fear you." He tilts his head, smirk tugging at his lips. "That's not what I mean," he says simply. "I mean me." I can't answer, can't find words that won't betray the careful armor I've built around myself. My hands curl into fists at my sides.

My chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths. "You don't need to speak yet," he murmurs, hand brushing lightly over my back, guiding me, steadying me. "I'll take my time learning you, understanding you. No one like you should ever feel invisible, unworthy, or unprotected. You are not them, and you never will be. You don't need to fear me, Lara. Only trust. And trust is earned." I watch him, eyes flitting everywhere but his. The clock. The walls. Anything. I don't trust myself to meet his gaze. By nightfall, I haven't spoken first. Conversations end in nods or shakes of the head, brief, calculated, protective gestures that say nothing but shield everything.

I am almost unreadable, and he seems to enjoy it, studying, testing, teasing, pushing gently against boundaries without overstepping. "You need sleep," he finally mutters, guiding me toward the stairs. No Wolf tonight, no pack run for me. My legs ache, my mind buzzes, yet there's a strange calm in the order he brings, in the authority he wields effortlessly. Entering the bedroom, he applies the cream one last time, carefully, deliberately. I hold my breath, not trusting any moment. "Goodnight," he murmurs, brushing a kiss across my cheek. I flinch instinctively but stay rooted, unable to move, unable to look away. "You're leaving?" I whisper.

"Full moon tonight. Pack run. I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone. Sleep while you can," he says, eyes scanning me like a predator, a guardian, an enigma. "Pack run?" My brow furrows. "You'll see. Moonshine doesn't leave anyone behind. Everyone participates. Everyone contributes. Everyone survives... or doesn't." His tone is calm, but I feel the weight of it, the silent threat beneath the words. A world I stepped into willingly, yet unknowingly.

Lara shakes her head, and I give her a faint, teasing smirk. "You'll get used to it. Sleep. When your Wolf's back, you'll be running with us." I start to close the door, but she freezes, blue eyes wide, staring like she's seeing ghosts. Confused, fragile, fierce all at once. Years of fear are etched into every movement, every hesitation, but I catch that flicker of defiance she can't hide. She doesn't know it yet, but I'm not her enemy. Not entirely.

Downstairs, Kieran and Jenson lean against the railing like they own the world, casual as ever, but their sharp eyes miss nothing. "How's it going with the new girl?" Jenson asks, unbuttoning his shirt like the morning is his to command. "Lara's staying. Moonshine doesn't do pack runs," I mutter, rolling the words around in my mouth.

"You're joking," Kieran frowns. "That's standard everywhere. Full moons empower every Wolf.

Best time to hunt. You sure you didn't see anything unusual?" "They worked. Trained.

Harvested their crops. Normal except for that," I shrug, though my stomach tightens. Something about this pack feels... off. Hidden. Secretive. Jenson cocks an eyebrow. "What do you think they're hiding?" "For starters... who really killed Lara's parents," I mutter, the words heavy, dangerous, unspoken. "Jarek?" Kieran guesses cautiously. "I don't think Jarek's clever enough. The idiot didn't even read the contract," Jenson mutters. "We should pay them a visit tomorrow."

"Surprise them?" I smirk. "Sometimes it's better when they don't see us coming. Jarek was already pissed about my arrival." After the hunt, I confirm plans with Kieran and Jenson and head upstairs for a shower. Quietly, I slip through the bedroom door. Relief washes over me. Lara is still asleep, curled around a pillow, protecting herself even in rest. The sweats I gave her hang loose, making her look smaller, fragile, almost breakable. But I can feel the quiet strength in her even in slumber.

I dry off quickly, climb in beside her, instinctively pulling her delicate frame close. She murmurs, half-asleep, a few funny noises escaping her lips, then settles again, trusting me enough to go back to sleep. Watching her, I notice she's rolled slightly toward me, pale skin kissed by the morning light.

Freckles scatter across her nose, faint but undeniable. She suddenly gasps, sitting upright, rubbing her eyes. "Where am I?" "You're in my pack, remember?" My voice is low, rumbling, no threat, only reassurance. Her eyes dart to mine, then down at the sheet barely covering her. "Are you... naked?!" The blush spreads like wildfire. "I prefer it that way in my own bed," I tease, enjoying the way her lips part in disbelief. She pats herself down, reassured. Aero huffs in my head. "We could strip her." "We take it slow. She's not like the others," I counter. Aero sulks, retreating into shadows, whining. Lara crosses the room to the small toilet, muttering under her breath like she's rehearsing courage. "When you're done," I call, "we need to put your cream on." Ten minutes pass before she reappears, eyes scanning the room like a test she hasn't passed. "Alone?" she asks, voice quivering, rolling her top up. "Alone. Well... mostly.

Others are here, just not close." My hand lingers near her stomach longer than necessary. Testing her, testing myself. She swallows hard, tension radiating off her like heat waves. Aero growls, "She's right here." I drop my hand. He sulks again, fading to the corners of my mind. Breakfast with Raven is... typical. She shoves a crumpet in her mouth and mutters, "You know my brother really likes you." My eyes flick to hers, half on her, half on Kael. "Prettier than the last girl," she adds casually. "Last girl?" I almost choke on my juice.

"You're his contracted mate, right?" she asks, flipping through a magazine like she's bored with the world. "I'm not the first?" I murmur. Unease knots my stomach. Memories flood back: Beta Kyle, screaming in the basement, bruises, rejection, the second bond my brother forced on me, the black-and-blue echoes of the past. "You'll stick," she says, shrugging. Dangerous. Not comforting. Hours pass. Lara fidgets with scraps of paper, muttering softly.

She can't read at twenty-two. Embarrassment and shame coat her words, and I feel the weight of her stolen life pressing down. Protectiveness, obsession, possessiveness it all twists into one tight coil in my chest. I watch her, memorizing the way she bites her lip when she's frustrated, how she clenches her fists when the letters don't make sense, how she pauses to breathe, as if the air itself can give her courage. Aero hisses in my mind. "Every inch. Don't let anyone touch her."

Finally, the doors swing open. Alpha Kael storms in, crimson eyes smoldering, scanning until they lock on me. "Where has Jarek gone?" he demands, voice like rolling thunder. "Huh?" I murmur. "Do I need to repeat myself? There was no one there. The packhouse empty. Lara, look at me!" His hand grabs my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. Panic coils in me, but his expression softens slightly. "Not gone... just hidden.

They do something even when you said Moonshine doesn't run." My throat tightens. I had never left the pack until yesterday. Now, everything I thought I knew is a lie. I glance at Lara. Her blue eyes are wide, cautious, curiosity battling fear. She's small, vulnerable, yet there's something feral beneath her calm exterior, something stubborn and untouchable. Aero purrs in my mind, "She's ours.

Every inch." I step closer, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, and for the first time, the room feels electric. My hand lingers not threatening, just claiming. She flinches slightly, then steadies herself. "Everything's fine," I murmur, more to myself than her. "You're safe... for now."

But even as I say it, the knot in my gut tightens. I don't trust this pack. Secrets linger in every shadow, every unspoken glance, every hushed conversation I've glimpsed. Lara shifts, silently, inching closer. Her trust is tentative, fragile, but it's there. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect it... to protect her. The sunlight cuts through the window, illuminating dust particles dancing in the air. I feel the pull of the pack, the weight of responsibility, the sting of obsession. Aero growls softly, "Claim her. All of her." I nod slightly, a smirk tugging at my lips. This fragile girl the one no one seems to understand is going to change everything. And I'll make sure she survives... even if I have to break every rule in the pack to do it.