Chapter 3

Morning light filtered through the curtains as I stood before James in his study, my body still aching from the midnight trek for Rebecca's mountain orchid tea. I'd returned frost-bitten and exhausted, only to find her asleep, claiming she'd 'changed her mind' about needing it.

"James, please," I whispered, hating the tremor in my voice. "This can't continue. She's deliberately—"

"You're overreacting," he cut me off, his Alpha tone slicing through the air between us. The coldness in his eyes made my wolf cower. "Rebecca is carrying my pup. Whatever she needs, you provide. That's your duty now."

"But the middle-of-night demands, the impossible tasks—"

"Enough." He didn't even look up from the documents spread across his desk. "This conversation is over, Aria."

I bit my tongue until I tasted copper, nodding once before slipping out. In the hallway, I pressed my forehead against the cool wall, breathing deeply until my wolf settled.

*Three more weeks,* I reminded myself. *Just hold on.*

By afternoon, I'd retreated to familiar routines, tending to our warriors returning from border patrol. Delta Carter winced as I cleaned a gash on his forearm.

"Sorry," I murmured, applying a salve of yarrow and comfrey.

"It's nothing, Luna," he replied, then immediately glanced toward the doorway with apprehension.

Rebecca stood there, one hand resting on her still-flat stomach, watching our interaction with narrowed eyes.

"Luna," she repeated mockingly. "Such formality for someone who'll soon be nothing but a pack healer. If that."

I continued bandaging Carter's arm, focusing on the precise movements of my fingers rather than the humiliation burning my cheeks. The warrior's discomfort was palpable as he avoided looking at either of us.

"James tells me you've been quite... attached to your position," Rebecca continued, sauntering into the infirmary. "It's sweet, really. Clinging to the only thing that gives you value."

My wolf snarled inside me, but I maintained my composure. "There, Carter. Change the dressing tomorrow."

He nodded gratefully and hurried out, leaving me alone with Rebecca.

"The warriors respect you," she observed, trailing her fingers along my neatly arranged supplies. "For now. But respect follows power, doesn't it? And soon, everyone will know where the real power lies."

I turned away, organizing my instruments with trembling hands. "Was there something you needed, Rebecca?"

"Just checking on my... what did James call you? My caretaker?" Her laugh echoed off the stone walls. "How fitting."

That evening, after a silent dinner where Rebecca had once again taken my place beside James, I escaped to my herbarium. The small stone building had been my sanctuary since childhood, filled with the remedies my father had taught me to create before his passing.

I inhaled the familiar scents of dried lavender and sage, feeling my shoulders relax for the first time all day. My wolf settled too, comforted by the connection to my lineage of healers.

The encrypted phone buzzed in my pocket—a message from Alpha Thorne confirming my arrival date at Moonstone Pack. Just twenty days now. I could endure anything for twenty days.

I worked late into the night, carefully documenting my most important remedies in a journal for Elara. She wasn't ready to be head healer yet, but I couldn't leave without passing on my father's knowledge.

When I finally returned to the pack house, the silence told me everyone had retired for the night. I moved quietly through the darkened hallways, exhaustion weighing on my limbs.

The door to my herbarium was ajar.

My heart stuttered as I pushed it open. The scent hit me first—Rebecca's cloying vanilla perfume mixed with something else. Something wrong.

Glass crunched beneath my feet as I stepped inside. Moonlight streaming through the windows illuminated the devastation—my father's ancient remedy jars smashed across the stone floor, generations of healing knowledge destroyed in moments of malice.

The precious tinctures soaked into the earth floor, their scents mingling in a perversion of their healing purpose. My knees gave way as I knelt among the shards, fingers hovering over the broken glass of a jar that had been in my family for over a century.

A small note lay amid the destruction, Rebecca's flowing script unmistakable: *"Oops. Clumsy me."*

My wolf howled in grief and rage, the sound escaping my throat as a choked sob. This wasn't just an attack on me—it was the deliberate destruction of my heritage, my father's legacy.

As I gathered a shard of ancient pottery in my palm, something crystallized within me. The last thread of loyalty to Silver Creek Pack snapped, clean and final.

*We're leaving tonight,* my wolf growled.

I closed my eyes, the decision settling into my bones with unexpected clarity.

*No,* I answered her. *We're going to make them regret this first.*