Elara's POV

The healing center was a labyrinth of clinical efficiency, a place where the ancient hum of restorative magic met the sterile, sharp reality of human medicine. Edith guided me through the maze, her stride purposeful, until we reached the very last examination room at the end of a long, dimly lit corridor. She ushered me inside and clicked the lock, the sound echoing with a finality that made my nerves jump. Turning to me, her face was a mask of grim concern.

“Tell me exactly what happened, Elara.”

I tried to offer a nonchalant shrug, but the movement sparked a protest from my bruised ribs. Edith’s eyes snapped with a sudden, sharp light.

“A shrug is not an explanation, child.”

“What difference does it make if I tell you the details?” I asked, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. I eased myself onto the edge of the cold metal table. “Can you stop it? Can you guarantee that tomorrow I won’t be back here for the same reason? Because we both know I will.”

She didn’t look away, and I saw the heavy, weary sadness in her gaze, a look that told me she knew I was right.

“Did you cross Seraphine again?”

It was the obvious conclusion. In the Moonlight Pack, the casual cruelty of others left bruises, but this level of systematic destruction was a signature move of the Elvyr family. The last time Thorne had decided to “correct” my behavior, I had spent seven days in a medically induced coma just to survive the internal damage. By comparison, today felt almost merciful.

I gave her a thin, humorless smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

“I exist, Edith. That’s enough to offend Seraphine. Apparently, my breathing is an act of defiance to half this pack. Do you have a pill for that, or is it terminal?”

Edith didn’t answer. Instead, she began arranging a tray of disinfectants and sterile cotton. In a move that felt startlingly maternal, she reached out and smoothed a stray lock of hair away from my forehead.

“I want to tell you that the world will soften for you, Elara. But I won’t lie to you. It won’t.”

I looked down at my lap, the weight of her honesty pressing against my chest.

“I know.” I tried to sound brave, but my voice betrayed me, thickening with a despair I usually kept locked behind iron doors.

“Here,” she said, pulling a small, velvet-lined box from the pocket of her white coat. “I know your birthday is tomorrow. I wanted you to have this.”

“My birthday?” I blinked, truly confused.

I never tracked the date. Birthdays were for children who were wanted, for families who celebrated a beginning. To me, it was just the anniversary of the day I was abandoned on a cold doorstep. My existence wasn’t a gift; it was a burden I carried every day.

As Edith pulled on a pair of latex gloves, she nudged the box toward me.

“Well? Open it. I didn’t steal it just for it to sit there.”

I looked at her, my suspicion warring with a sudden, fragile hope.

“You’ve never given me anything before.”

“It’s a significant milestone when a wolf or one of our kind comes of age,” Edith said, her voice softening. “Don’t expect diamonds. It was my mother’s, and she gave it to me when I turned twenty-two. Since I have no daughters of my own to pass it to, I thought it might finally find a home with you.”

With trembling fingers, I opened the lid. Inside sat a simple silver band. It was plain, unadorned, and slightly worn, but in that moment, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. In our culture, jewelry gifted by a female elder on a girl’s twenty-second birthday signified her transition into adulthood and her status as a woman of the pack.

I didn’t cry. I'd learned long ago that tears were a luxury I couldn’t afford but a lump formed in my throat that made it hard to swallow.

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Edith. Truly.”

She nodded once, then took my hand to begin the treatment. Her lips thinned into a hard line as she unwrapped the stranger’s cloth and saw the dark, weeping infection in my palm.

“Thorne did this, didn’t he?”

“He used a letter opener,” I whispered. “I don’t understand why it’s turning so fast. I thought I cleaned it.”

“I’ll handle it,” she said, her voice tight with a suppressed fury.

I expected the sting of antiseptic or the cold touch of ointment, but instead, Edith closed her eyes and placed her palm over the wound. I gasped as a wave of golden, radiant warmth flooded my arm. It felt like stepping into sunlight after a long winter. The throbbing ache in my hand began to recede, replaced by a strange, tingling peace.

As the magic worked to knit my flesh back together, my mind began to wander to the implications of tomorrow. When a female wolf comes of age, the laws of the Wolf Kingdom change for her. She is no longer property of the orphanage or the pack. She has the right to leave, to seek a life in the human world, and the right to choose a mate.

I could walk away. I could leave the Moonlight Pack and its cruelty behind. I didn’t have a wolf; I didn’t need to stay for the sake of a spirit I didn’t possess.

I could find a quiet human city, get a job where no one knew my name, and start over. The idea of someone loving me being a mate felt like a fairy tale from a book I wasn’t allowed to read. I had spent twenty-two years being told I was unwanted, a “dud,” a mistake. Why would a man ever look at me with anything but disdain?

Shifters were bound by fated mates, a connection of souls and wolves. Without a wolf spirit, I was a ghost in the mating system. I was a woman with no counterpart, a puzzle piece that didn’t fit anywhere. As a young girl, I used to pray for a protector, a prince who would see past the lack of a wolf to the girl underneath. But those prayers had died out years ago, replaced by the cold reality of survival.

But the prospect of freedom? That was real. I could go somewhere where the hierarchy didn’t matter. Where my value wasn’t measured by the strength of a shift.

“Why the smile, Elara?” Edith’s voice pulled me back to the present.

The warmth had faded, and she was pulling her hand away. I looked down at my palm. The infection was gone, but in its place sat a thin, silvery scar.

I frowned, tracing the mark.

“Why did it leave a scar? Your healing usually leaves the skin perfect.”

Edith went quiet, an uncharacteristic shadow of discomfort crossing her face. She adjusted her tray, avoiding my eyes.

“Edith? Is something wrong?”

She was saved from answering by the door flying open. Another shifter burst in, a whirlwind of energy that immediately filled the small room. Mary was the polar opposite of my pale, red-haired self; she had short, dark hair that bounced against her chin and warm, chocolate-brown eyes. While Seraphine was a cold, icy beauty, Mary was all warmth and light, easily as beautiful as the Beta’s daughter, but without the rot inside.

“Elara!” Mary cried, launching herself toward me.

Edith caught her by the collar of her lab coat before she could collide with my bruised ribs.

“Careful, girl. She’s held together by luck and my magic right now,” Edith warned.

Mary gave a sheepish grin.

“Sorry! I just saw your messages, Elara. I was stuck in a long session with a Delta. Are you okay? Wait, don’t answer that you look like you went through a blender! I mean, you’re still pretty, but ”

Edith cleared her throat, interrupting the babble.

“Breathe, Mary. I’ve stabilized her. The rest of the minor bruising is yours to handle. And try to use your brain before you open your mouth; you’re making less sense than usual.”

Mary flushed a deep pink.

“Thank you for looking after her, Edith.”

The older woman didn’t soften.

“Don’t thank me for doing what I’m paid for.”

She walked toward the door, leaving without a backward glance. Her abruptness didn’t offend me; I knew that underneath that steel exterior was the only person who had ever given me a gift. She was the closest thing to a mother I had, and in the harsh world of the Moonlight Pack, her silent protection was the only thing that kept me breathing.