Chapter 4

I drifted in and out of consciousness, my body burning from within as the wolfsbane toxin ravaged my system. Through the haze of fever and pain, I could hear Elder Thorne's urgent voice as he worked tirelessly over me in the pack's infirmary.

"Hold on, Isabella," he murmured, pressing a cool cloth to my forehead. "Your wolf is fighting. Lyra is strong."

Inside me, Lyra whimpered weakly. The wolfsbane had struck at our bond, threatening to sever the connection between us. I could feel her struggling, her silver form curled protectively around my soul.

*Stay with me,* I pleaded silently. *We'll survive this together.*

The infirmary door creaked open, and I forced my eyes to focus on the figure entering. My heart leapt painfully—Alexander. Despite everything, some foolish part of me still yearned for his comfort.

"How is she?" His voice was distant, clinical.

"She nearly died," Elder Thorne replied sharply, his normally respectful tone edged with accusation. "The wolfsbane dose was substantial. Had she consumed the entire chalice..."

Alexander approached my bedside, his face coming into blurry focus. I searched his eyes for concern, for the love that had once been as constant as the moon itself. Instead, I found only irritation.

"Isabella," he said, his tone clipped. "The entire pack is talking about this incident."

I tried to speak, but my throat felt scorched. "Someone... poisoned..."

"Or perhaps you're seeking attention," he cut in coldly. "Victoria is distraught, thinking you might blame her somehow."

Elder Thorne stiffened beside me. "Alpha, with respect, Isabella has been poisoned. She requires rest and support, not accusations."

Alexander's jaw tightened. "I have duties to attend to. The pack doesn't stop running because of one... incident."

One incident. As if my near-death was a minor inconvenience in his day.

He left without touching me, without the gentle brush of his hand against mine that had once been as natural as breathing. The door closed behind him with a finality that echoed through my chest.

"I'm sorry, child," Elder Thorne whispered, his weathered hand squeezing mine. "Some are blinded by what they wish to see, rather than what is."

Lyra growled weakly within me. *He abandoned us when we needed him most.*

I turned my face away, letting my tears soak silently into the pillow.

---

Three days later, I had recovered enough to leave the infirmary, though the wolfsbane had left me weakened. I moved slowly through the pack house, my body still aching from the poison.

The whispers followed me like shadows.

"Did you hear? Victoria was attacked near the sacred hunting grounds..."

"Rogues... she barely escaped..."

"She says someone from inside the pack must have told them our patrol schedule..."

My blood ran cold. I quickened my pace, following the sounds of commotion to the Great Hall. There, surrounded by concerned pack members, sat Victoria. Her clothes were torn and bloodied, her face streaked with artfully placed dirt and tears.

Alexander knelt before her, his face a mask of rage and concern as he held her trembling hands.

"Tell me again," he urged. "What did the rogues say?"

"They knew exactly when to attack," Victoria sobbed, her voice carrying perfectly through the hall. "They said their 'friend in the pack' had told them when I would be alone."

Her eyes lifted, finding mine across the room with unerring precision. "They mentioned a she-wolf... one with healing abilities."

The room fell silent as every head turned toward me. Alexander rose slowly, his expression thunderous as he stalked toward where I stood.

"Alexander," I began, "you can't possibly believe—"

"Silence!" he roared, his Alpha tone crashing over me like a physical blow.

Lyra snarled in response, our combined indignation giving me strength. "Test my scent," I challenged. "If I'd been near rogues, their stench would linger."

It was basic wolf law—scents clung for days, especially those of enemies. A simple test would prove my innocence.

But Alexander didn't even pause. "I strip you of your Luna status," he declared, his voice ringing through the stunned hall. "You are confined to the pack house until we determine your punishment."

Gasps echoed around us. To strip a destined mate of their status was almost unheard of—a violation of the Moon Goddess's will itself.

"You would take her word over mine?" I whispered, disbelief making my voice shake. "After all we've been to each other?"

Something flickered in his eyes—doubt, perhaps—but Victoria's soft whimper pulled his attention back to her. The moment of hesitation vanished.

"Guards," he commanded, "escort Isabella to her quarters. Post sentries at her door."

Strong hands gripped my arms, not roughly but with unmistakable authority. As they led me away, I caught Victoria's gaze one last time. Behind the mask of victimhood, I saw it clearly now—the cold calculation, the triumph.

That night, confined to my room like a criminal, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. Guards stood outside my door, their presence a constant reminder of my fall from grace. In the darkness, Lyra's voice came to me, stronger than it had been since the poisoning.

*He has broken every promise,* she growled. *He has abandoned us in our darkest hour. He has chosen her lies over our truth.*

I pressed my hand against my heart, feeling it fracture beneath the weight of betrayal.

*What do we do now?* I asked my wolf silently.

Lyra's answer came with certainty that sent a chill down my spine: *We survive. And then we leave him to the fate he has chosen.*

As the moon crept across the night sky, I made my decision. The mate bond that had once been my greatest joy had become my prison. It was time to break free—whatever the cost.