Chapter 5

“I don’t bite, you know.”

Wren froze in the doorway of Sera’s room, caught in the act of hovering like a coward. The sick woman was sitting up in bed today—a good sign, according to the pack’s current healer, though Wren suspected “good” was relative.

“I wasn’t—” Wren started.

“You’ve walked past my door seventeen times in the last two days.” Sera’s dark eyes sparkled with weak amusement. “I counted. Either you’re obsessed with that particular hallway, or you’re working up the courage to come in.”

Heat crept up Wren’s neck. She’d been doing exactly that—circling Sera’s room like a wolf circling prey, never quite committing to the hunt. She’d spent the last two days buried in her aunt’s journals, learning about the gift she’d been hiding her whole life.

The things she’d discovered had been both illuminating and terrifying.

“I’m not here to heal you,” Wren said bluntly, stepping into the room. “I can’t. Not yet. I just wanted to…”

“See if I’m worth saving?” Sera finished. There was no accusation in her voice, just tired understanding. “That’s fair. Most people look at me and see Cain’s sister. They decide whether to help based on what he might do for them—or to them.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“I think you’re doing what survivors do.” Sera patted the bed beside her. “Calculating the risks. Sit. I promise I won’t tell Cain if you decide I’m not worth it.”

Against her better judgment, Wren sat. Up close, she could see the damage the sickness had done—the hollows in Sera’s cheeks, the way her collarbone jutted sharply against papery skin, the tremor in her hands that never quite stopped.

“How do you know?” Wren asked. “About survivors?”

Something flickered in Sera’s expression. “Because I used to be one.” She leaned back against her pillows, her gaze drifting to the window. “Before all this, before the sickness made me weak, I was a fighter. I trained with Cain’s warriors. I could beat most of them.” A ghost of a smile crossed her face. “Cain hated it. He wanted me safe, protected. But I refused to be a princess in a tower.”

“What happened?”

The smile faded. “This happened. One day I was sparring in the training yard, and the next I couldn’t stand up. The fever came first, then the weakness, then the pain.” She turned to look at Wren, and her eyes were ancient. “I’ve been dying for six months. Long enough to make peace with it.”

“You’ve given up.”

“I’ve accepted.” Sera shrugged, the motion weak. “There’s a difference. I don’t want to die. I’m only twenty-four. I wanted to find a mate, have pups, see the world beyond Black Hollow. But wanting doesn’t change reality.”

“And your brother?”

“Cain will never accept it.” Sera’s voice softened. “He blames himself. He’s the Alpha—in his mind, he should be able to fix everything. When I got sick, he tore apart half the country looking for a cure. He’s made deals with witches, threatened doctors, spent a fortune on human medicine that did nothing.” She paused. “Kidnapping a healer is actually one of his more reasonable plans.”

“He didn’t kidnap me,” Wren said automatically.

Sera raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. He kidnapped me a little. But he also—” Wren stopped, not sure why she was defending him.

“Also what?”

“He gave me my aunt’s workshop. Her journals.” Wren looked down at her hands, still rough from years of servitude. “He didn’t have to do that. He could have just demanded I heal you and threatened to kill me if I refused. Instead, he gave me back something I didn’t know I’d lost.”

“That’s Cain.” Sera sounded fond and exasperated in equal measure. “Terrifying and thoughtful at the same time. Most people only see the terror. They don’t stick around long enough for the rest.”

“Why is he like that?” Wren asked before she could stop herself. “The stories I’ve heard—”

“Are probably true.” Sera’s expression grew serious. “Cain has killed more wolves than I can count. He’s brutal and cold and completely without mercy to his enemies. But do you know why?”

Wren shook her head.

“Because our father was worse.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

“Cain was born into violence,” Sera continued quietly. “Our father was a tyrant. He ruled through fear and cruelty, and he trained Cain to be the same. By the time Cain was ten, he’d already learned that showing weakness meant pain. By the time he was fifteen, he’d learned that gentleness got people killed.”

“What happened to your father?”

“Cain killed him.” Sera said it matter-of-factly, like she was discussing the weather. “When he was seventeen. Our father had finally gone too far—beaten a pup to death for stealing food—and Cain challenged him for the pack. It was the bloodiest fight anyone had ever seen.” She paused. “Cain won. He’s been Alpha ever since.”

Wren tried to reconcile this with the cold, distant man she’d met. A boy who killed his own father. A teenager forced to become a monster to stop a bigger monster.

“That doesn’t excuse everything he’s done,” she said.

“No,” Sera agreed. “It doesn’t. But it explains it. Cain isn’t cruel for the sake of cruelty. Every terrible thing he’s done has been to protect this pack. To make sure no one here ever has to live in fear the way we did growing up.” She reached out and took Wren’s hand, her grip surprisingly strong. “He brought you here because I’m the only family he has left. He’ll do anything to save me. But he won’t force you to heal me if you truly can’t. He’s not that kind of monster.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Sera squeezed her hand. “Because I know him. Better than anyone.”

Wren wanted to pull away, to retreat back into the safety of distrust and hatred. It was easier that way. Cleaner. But something about Sera’s earnest eyes and gentle touch made it impossible.

“I’m reading my aunt’s journals,” she heard herself say. “She wrote about a sickness like yours. It was rare—some kind of curse, passed through bloodlines. She thought she found a way to treat it, but she died before she could test the theory.”

Sera’s eyes widened. “You think you can figure it out?”

“I think—” Wren hesitated. “I think I need to try. Not for Cain. Not even for you, exactly. But because my aunt believed in using her gift to help people. And I’ve been hiding mine for so long, I forgot that’s what it’s for.”

Tears welled in Sera’s eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you—”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Wren stood, pulling her hand free. “I said I’d try. I didn’t say I’d succeed.”

She walked to the door, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. But Sera’s voice stopped her before she could leave.

“Wren?”

She looked back.

“My brother pretends he doesn’t have a heart.” Sera smiled weakly. “But it’s there. Buried deep. And I think—” She paused, something knowing in her expression. “I think you might be the one who finds it.”

Wren didn’t respond. She fled the room, Sera’s words chasing her down the hallway.

But even as she ran, something was shifting inside her. A crack in the armor she’d built over five years of suffering.

And when she turned the corner and nearly slammed into Cain himself, the way her heart leaped had nothing to do with fear.

That terrified her more than anything else.