Chapter 3

The smell of bleach usually burned my nose, masking everything else in the laundry room, but today, even the industrial chemicals couldn't hide the scent of panic wafting through the pack house. It started as a murmur in the hallway, the hurried footsteps of warriors running toward the conference room, and then the distinct, terrifying scent of old blood.

I was folding a stack of rough towels, my fingers tracing the frayed edges, when the double doors slammed open.

"You. Come with us," a gruff voice barked. It was Marcus, the Beta.

"I haven't finished the quota," I said, keeping my voice flat. I didn't turn around. I didn't need eyes to feel the tension radiating off him like heat from a pavement.

"Forget the damn towels," Marcus snapped. Heavy footsteps approached, and a hand gripped my upper arm, not gently. "The Alpha summons you. Now."

I stumbled as he yanked me forward, my hip checking the corner of the sorting table. Pain flared, but I bit my tongue. Being dragged through the corridors was a familiar humiliation now. I counted the turns in my head—left at the kitchen, right past the grand staircase. But as we neared the Alpha’s office, the air changed.

The scent of lavender polish and expensive wood was gone, replaced by something foul. It smelled like meat left out in the summer sun—sweet, cloying, and undeniably rotten.

Marcus shoved me through the heavy oak doors. "She's here, Elder Thaddeus."

I straightened my spine, refusing to cower in the darkness. The room was quiet, save for a wet, rattling sound. Someone was breathing as if their lungs were filled with gravel.

"Elyse," a voice croaked. It was Jasper. But the commanding boom of his Alpha voice was gone, replaced by a thin, watery wheeze. "Come closer."

I didn't move. "I am an Omega, Alpha. I am not permitted to approach the desk unless invited by a superior."

"Don't play games with me!" Jasper shouted, but the effort dissolved into a violent coughing fit. I heard the splatter of liquid hitting a surface—likely the desk—and the sharp, metallic tang of blood filled the air. It didn't smell like healthy crimson blood; it smelled like tar.

"Calm yourself, Jasper," a new voice rumbled. It was Elder Thaddeus, deep and ancient, like stones grinding together. I heard the tap of his cane on the hardwood floor as he approached me. "Child, give me your hand."

I hesitated, then extended my trembling hand. Thaddeus’s skin was dry and papery. He turned my palm over, tracing the lines there.

"The Marshall bloodline," Thaddeus murmured, his voice heavy with gravity. "I had hoped the rumors of your demotion were exaggerated. To reduce a healer of this ancestry to a laundry maid... it is no wonder the Goddess is displeased."

"Just tell me how to fix it, Thaddeus," Jasper rasped, the desperation in his voice cutting through his arrogance. "The medicine isn't working. The Healer's wing is useless."

"Medicine cannot cure a judgment from the Moon," Thaddeus said sharply. "I have examined the necrosis, Jasper. It is not a virus. It is your wolf. He is dying. He is rotting inside you, and as he dies, he poisons your human form. It is a Divine Curse."

The silence that followed was deafening. A Divine Curse. The punishment for violating the sacred laws of the pack. A cold, dark satisfaction curled in my gut.

"My wolf... is dying?" Jasper whispered, horror drenching his words.

"You harmed a creature blessed by the Goddess," Thaddeus continued, his tone devoid of sympathy. "You severed a sacred bond with silver. The Goddess demands balance. There is only one way to purge the rot before it kills you."

"What is it?" Jasper demanded. "I'll pay anything. I'll do anything."

"You need a ritual," Thaddeus said. "An ancient purging. It requires a healer who shares the blood of the original moon-servants. Someone who can channel pure life force to bridge the gap between your human soul and your dying wolf."

I felt Thaddeus’s gaze shift to me, though I couldn't see it.

"Only she can save you, Alpha. Elyse is the last of the Marshall line. Without her specific resonance, you will be dead by the next full moon."

The realization hit the room like a physical blow. The man who had destroyed me now held his life in my hands.

"Elyse," Jasper said. The leather of his chair creaked as he leaned forward. "You heard the Elder."

I remained silent, staring into the black abyss of my vision.

"I command you," Jasper snarled, trying to inject the Alpha authority into his voice. It washed over me, a dull, throbbing pressure against my skull, but it felt weak, diluted by his sickness. "As your Alpha, I order you to perform this ritual. Heal me."

I let out a short, dry laugh. It felt foreign in my throat.

"You order me?" I asked softly.

"It is your duty!" Jasper slammed his hand on the desk. "You are a pack member. You serve me!"

"I served you when I was the Pack Healer," I said, my voice rising, steady and cold. "I served you when I thought we were mates. I served you right up until the moment you shoved my face into a cake dusted with silver."

"That was a mistake—" Jasper began.

"It was a choice!" I cut him off. "You want me to channel life force? You want me to connect with your wolf? Jasper, you burned the eyes out of my head! You severed my connection to Seraphina!"

I took a step forward, guided by the sound of his ragged breathing.

"I have no wolf," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. "I have no sight. I have no magic left to give you. You destroyed the only tool that could have saved your life. You didn't just break me, Jasper. You broke your own cure."

"You're lying," Jasper hissed, panic rising in his voice. "You're just being vindictive. Try! You have to try!"

"I can't," I said, feeling a tear slide down my cheek—not from sadness, but from the sheer, brutal irony of it all. "And even if I could... why would I interfere with the Moon Goddess's justice? You are rotting, Jasper. And I am going to let you."