Chapter 38

Alpha Ellison.

The moment the doors shut behind us, I turned to face her fully. My chamber was the only place in the palace where I could speak freely, and not fear that someone was at the corner listening. 

Lucy stood before me, her head bowed, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her shoulders trembled. I could feel the dread rolling off her, thick and bitter.

“Start talking,” I said, my voice lower than I meant it to be. The edge of a growl lingered in my throat.

She flinched, but nodded. “Trust me, all of this wasn't my fault. Ethan is the last person I would ever want to mark me, but he did regardless. Even when I pleaded and asked him not too.”

The words twisted a blade in my gut. My wolf howled within me, a feral, vengeful roar clawing to be let out. Still, I held it back. Barely.

“Without your consent?”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. She swallowed, and the pain in her voice struck deeper than I wanted to admit. “Yes. the truth is, he was my ex mate and ever since he rejected me, I've never had anything to do with him but then he still wouldn't let me be. He kept saying he wanted me back and all of that stupid stuff. I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed. And most of all I feared what you would do to me when you find out that I bore the mark of another man even as your breeder.”

My fists clenched. I walked away from her, my back to her now as I stared at the flames crackling in the hearth. The mark. Another male’s scent burned into her skin—into what should have been mine and mine alone. Rage coursed through me, boiling hot, blinding.

“You should’ve told me the moment it happened.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I was scared. Not just of your punishment but… of what it would the people would say.”

I turned around sharply, eyes narrowing. “And what do you think it means now, Lucy?”

She bit her lip hard, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “That I’m broken. Unworthy of you.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I don't think that's the case for now.”

Silence stretched between us. Her lip quivered. “I would do anything to make it right. Just tell me how.”

I stared at her, my thoughts colliding like thunderclouds.

“There is one way,” I said finally. “But it will hurt.”

She looked up. “I’ll endure anything.”

“Undoing a forced mark is painful, Lucy. It will strip his presence from your body, yes—but it will also burn through your nerves like wildfire. It will feel like dying.”

She didn’t even blink. “Then let it burn.”

My chest tightened. Her courage… it made me ache. I wanted to pull her into my arms, shield her from every dark corner of this world. But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not until this stain was erased.

“Then prepare yourself,” I said. “You’ll undergo the ritual tomorrow.”

She nodded, her body trembling but her voice steady. “Yes, Alpha.”

“You may go.”

She turned, pausing only once at the door, as if waiting for something. I didn’t speak. She walked out, and the moment the door clicked shut, I slammed my fist into the wall.

Crack.

The stone dented beneath the impact, but it wasn’t enough to ease the rage. I was boiling inside, fire clawing up my throat.

I would see Ethan bleed.

I was still pacing the room when a loud knock shook the chamber door. I opened it to find my second-in-command, Aldric, breathing heavily.

“My Alpha,” he said quickly, “you’re needed. The southern quarter—”

“What about it?”

“It’s been attacked. Or… something worse. A wolfbane infection. Dozens dead already.”

I didn’t wait to hear more. I was already pushing past him, my body moving before my mind caught up. “Assemble the warriors. Prepare the healers. Meet me at the edge of the village.”

By the time we arrived, the scent of death hung thick in the air. My wolves—my people—were scattered, their bodies twisted and pale, foam crusting their lips, eyes frozen in horror. The village was eerily quiet save for the low, broken sobs of survivors.

Children huddled near the stone well, clutching each other, their eyes too hollow for ones so young. My chest constricted.

I turned to Aldric. “Why the hell wasn’t I informed earlier?”

He flinched. “We thought it was a minor infection. We tried to contain it without disturbing you.”

“Really? You used that brain of yours to think?"

He bowed his head, ashamed.

I walked slowly through the wreckage. Mothers lay beside their pups, as if they’d tried to shield them from the sickness. Warriors had fallen mid-shift, their claws half-extended, teeth bared in helpless fury.

The sickness… it was like nothing I’d seen before. Not just a disease. Something darker. Magical.

Wolfbane.

I knelt beside one of the fallen, a young warrior I had trained personally. His eyes were red-rimmed, blood dripping from the corners. His veins stood black beneath his skin.

“Take the survivors to the palace infirmary,” I ordered. “Quarantine them. No risks.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Aldric said.

As the warriors moved quickly to gather the children and wounded, I lingered a moment longer, surrounded by death. My jaw tightened.

Someone did this. Someone wanted to cripple my pack. And I would find them.

I returned to the palace just before nightfall, my cloak soaked through with rain and ash. I didn’t change. Didn’t eat. I went straight to the study and locked the door.

Row upon row of ancient tomes lined the shelves, thick with dust and time. I dragged several out, letting them fall open on the desk, flipping pages with hands too restless to be gentle.

There had to be something. A mention. A spell. A cure.

The name whispered over and over in my mind.

Wolfbane.

I scoured books on magical afflictions, forbidden rituals, curses and toxins. Hours passed. The fire in the hearth dimmed. My fingers were stained with ink and ash.

And still—nothing.

Nothing about this sickness. Nothing about how to stop it.

I let my head drop into my hands, exhaustion threatening to swallow me whole.

Think, Ellison. There must be something you’re missing.

I almost didn’t notice it at first. A loose page, tucked between the bindings of an old genealogy tome. I pulled it free carefully. The ink had faded, but I could still make out the words.

“Golden Bloodline,” I read aloud.

My pulse quickened.

It described a rare line of werewolves—descendants of a long-lost Alpha clan. Their blood carried a dormant magic, able to purify even the darkest afflictions. One paragraph stood out:

"The blood of the Golden may cleanse what cannot be cured. Wolfbane, shadow rot, cursed heat—all fall before its fire."

My breath caught.

This was it.

Hope.

But… there hadn’t been a Golden in over a century. Not since the Purge Wars.