Chapter 2

"All three tests were positive, and your bloodwork confirms the pregnancy," Dr. Carter said as she pushed the report toward me.

The clock above her desk read 1:47 a.m. I was still wearing the white gown stained with my blood, and seven silver moons glittered across my lap whenever the fluorescent lights flickered.

Dr. Carter was in her forties, with dark curls tied away from her face and navy scrubs beneath her coat. Her eyes moved from the dried blood at my mouth to the pill case in my hand.

"The pregnancy is very early. You mentioned fever, stomach pain, and nausea, so I need to know everything you take regularly," she said.

I tipped two white tablets into my palm.

"Dr. Mercer prescribed these eighteen months ago. He said they would stabilize my body and help my wolf awaken," I explained.

Dr. Carter sealed one tablet inside a specimen bag. "Do not take another dose until I know what is in them. Pregnancy changes the risk, and vomiting blood is never something I ignore."

I opened my records through Blackwood's private medical system. Dr. Carter selected one blood test from before the prescription and another from the previous month, then placed the results side by side.

My transition response had fallen from 94.7 to 11.2. Beneath the latest figure, one line had been flagged in red: WOLF TRANSITION RESPONSE: SUPPRESSED.

"Does that mean the pills caused it?" I asked.

"It means your response declined while you were taking them," Dr. Carter replied. "I will not claim causation before the toxicology results come back."

For eighteen months, I had swallowed those tablets through fevers, vomiting, and training sessions that left me unconscious. Mercer had blamed my weak wolf, and Lucas had trusted the doctor who had served his family for two decades.

On nights when the pain made swallowing difficult, Lucas brought warm water and waited beside the bed until both pills were gone. I had treasured his attention without ever asking why the medicine made me sicker.

"Test both tablets," I told Dr. Carter. "I want to know exactly what I have been taking."

My phone lit up with Lucas's name. I rejected the call, saved both blood tests and Mercer's prescription, then messaged the attorney who had represented me before my marriage.

Prepare divorce papers.

I also canceled the supplementary card linked to Lucas's account. He called again before the confirmation page finished loading.

"You canceled the card," Lucas said when I answered. His voice was controlled, but I heard a chair scrape across the floor behind him.

"It belonged to you," I replied.

"Where are you, Ivy?" Lucas asked. "Are you at a hospital?"

The quiet urgency in his voice reached for the part of me that had always forgiven him. I stared at the word SUPPRESSED until that reflex passed.

"Do you know what Mercer put in my medication?" I asked.

"They are transition stabilizers," Lucas answered. "Mercer has treated Blackwood wolves for more than twenty years. Tell me what happened."

Before I could respond, several treatment records faded to gray. I clicked one and found my access revoked, then watched another disappear from the screen.

"Someone is changing my medical records while I am looking at them," I said, photographing Mercer's signature and the batch number.

Lucas's breathing changed. "Send me the address. I will come myself."

"No one from Blackwood comes near me or my records until I know who is doing this," I said.

"You think I poisoned you?" Lucas asked, and the hurt in his voice was almost enough to make me apologize.

"I have no proof that you did," I told him. "I also have no proof that you didn't."

Lucas remained silent for several seconds before saying, "Come home. We will handle it together."

Yesterday, that promise would have been enough. I looked down at the pregnancy report and ended the call.

Dr. Carter returned an hour later with a preliminary result. "The full panel will take time, but we found a compound that reduces transition response and a trace amount of silver."

Cold spread through my back. "Could it hurt the babies?"

"I cannot answer that yet," Dr. Carter said. "I need an unopened bottle from the same batch. Photograph it first, preserve the seal, and do not let anyone else touch it."

A new bottle had arrived at Blackwood Manor the previous day. I was calling Mrs. Reed when I entered the hallway.

"Two men from the private clinic are here," the housekeeper whispered. "They said they were collecting expired medication, but they went directly to your bathroom."

I stopped beside the elevator. "Get away from them and find security."

Cabinet hinges creaked through the phone, followed by Mrs. Reed's sharp breath.

"The sealed white bottle is gone," she said.

Footsteps approached her. A heavy impact struck the floor, and the line filled with static before a stranger picked up her phone.

"Mrs. Blackwood," a man said calmly. "Do not come back for the pills."