Chapter Seven

Elara’s POV

Once the door closes behind her, Mary gives me a hug.

“What happened? Who did this?”

“Thorne,” I tell her before diving into what happened at Benny’s yesterday and the resulting meeting in the beta’s office.

Mary doesn’t look shocked, but there is pain in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Elara.”

“It’s okay.”

I watch her pick up a cotton swab and douse it in saline before cleaning the blood from my face.

“It is what it is.”

My friend leans back and says regretfully, “I wish you didn’t sound so matter-of-fact about it.”

I just give her a tight smile, saying nothing further.

Mary and I became friends when she moved into my apartment building a couple of years ago. She would often come home late from her training sessions at the healing center, and one night, I offered to share my dinner with her. I had been eating a burrito on the staircase by myself, and I had an extra one in the plastic bag next to me. I had fully expected her to turn me down and insult me. But instead, she dropped her backpack, sat down next to me, and held out her hand.

From then on, we would have dinner together most nights. I’d found a friend.

I show Mary my palm.

“Edith healed me, but there’s a scar left.”

I expected her to look surprised, but her eyes turned dark. She drops the cotton swab, grabbing my hand to take a closer look.

“What did he do here?”

I tell her about the letter opener, and when Mary looks up at me, her eyes are filled with horror.

“There is only one thing that leaves scars on the body of a wolf shifter. That letter opener must have been coated with wolfsbane, Elara. I don’t know how you survived all the way here. From your hand, the wolfsbane would have reached your heart within half an hour.”

My whole body goes cold. Thorne tried to kill me? The beta of my pack actually wanted to murder me?

My head is spinning again, and I clutch Mary’s arm.

“You must be wrong. I mean, I know he was angry with me, but trying to kill me—”

Mary’s face is white as a sheet.

“There’s no mistaking it. I can’t heal wolfsbane completely. It’s very toxic to our kind. You’re lucky Edith was around. Any other senior healer wouldn’t have healed you. They would have refused.”

Not simply because it’s dangerous but because they wouldn’t have cared enough. I can read between the lines of what Mary is saying.

I stare down at my palm, and my heart shrivels. Is my life really that worthless to these people? I grew up around them. Just because I don’t have a wolf spirit, they would have let me die? Just because Seraphine voluntarily went to the human police station, her father tried to kill me?

When I look up, Mary’s eyes are wet, and her lips are trembling.

“I should’ve checked my messages. I’m so sorry, Elara. When I think about what could have happened—”

I try to smile at her and fail.

“It’s fine. I’m alive, right? Nothing bad happened.”

She hugs me tightly.

“I don’t understand this pack sometimes. You’re the nicest person there is. You don’t deserve this.”

Slowly, I wrap my arms around her waist, holding on to her. I need to hold on to somebody. I always try to stay upbeat and positive, but at times like this, the deepest, darkest thoughts within me rear their ugly heads.

When Mary pulls back, she looks at my palm once more.

“How did—I’m still surprised you managed to get here in time. Did anything happen on the way?”

I’m about to shake my head when I remember the man in the woods. It was such a brief meeting, though, on account of me running away with my tail between my legs.

“I ran into somebody,” I murmur, tracing the scar in the center of my palm. “He was a shifter, but he wasn’t from our pack. I’m sure of it. He didn’t know that I don’t have a wolf spirit. He was—”

I wet my lips, remembering how my body reacted to him.

“He was kind to me. He was very handsome, too. I’ve never met anybody like him.”

As soon as I mention that part, I feel the heat crawl down my neck. I don’t know why I mentioned it.

Mary studies me, her brows raised now.

“What was his name?”

I avoid her gaze, shrugging.

“No idea. But he wrapped something around my hand. It’s in the garbage there.”

To my shock, Mary digs out the piece of cloth from the trash can. She studies it for a minute, and then her eyes widen.

“No wonder. It’s a healing bandage.”

“A what?”

She glances at me.

“It’s a piece of cloth enchanted by witches. White witches. Healing bandages are rare. They’re usually used in battles, by soldiers—and not just any soldier. We learned about them during our training sessions, and I know how to identify them.”

“So, it’s a healing bandage,” I say hesitantly. “But my wound wasn’t healed.”

“No, it wouldn’t heal you,” Mary agrees. “The only way I can explain how this works is that it stops the flow of poison, or it stops the wound from getting further infected. It’s witch magic mixed with our healing magic. Like I said, these are very rare. I’ve never seen one in person.”

“Shouldn’t Edith have been able to identify it?” I ask, mystified.