Chapter 5

The war hounds lunged.

Sharp fangs sank into my shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh. The agony was so intense I nearly passed out, and a scream tore from my throat.

"Go on, scream," Vanessa clapped her hands. "Scream your lungs out. No one is coming to save you."

The two hounds tore at me relentlessly. My flesh was shredded, and I could see the white of my own bones. My vision blurred, and my consciousness began to fade.

I remembered the night he secretly marked me, his hand caressing my cheek.

"Freya, I will love you for the rest of my life."

His movements had been clumsy, yet so incredibly gentle. It couldn't have been a lie.

But now, the same Alpha who had whispered those words to me was watching as I was torn to pieces.

Just before I blacked out completely, I saw a pair of expensive, handmade leather shoes appear in my hazy line of sight.

It was Fenris.

I saw him shove Vanessa aside, his voice a guttural roar. "Who told you you could touch her?"

With my last ounce of strength, I grabbed his pant leg. My hand, slick with blood, stained the black fabric. I opened my mouth, trying to speak, but only a faint whisper came out.

"…Save me… it hurts…"

It didn't matter anymore. I only had a few hours left to live.

In a daze, I dreamt of a summer long ago. We were just pups then, and our packs were still at peace. He had carried my injured body out of the forest, crying as he ran.

"Don't be scared, Freya. I'll protect you."

"Open your mouth."

A familiar voice pulled me back to reality. I opened my eyes and saw Fenris sitting by the bed. There was a deep gash on his wrist, and his blood was dripping into a silver cup.

"Drink," he said, bringing the cup to my lips. His hand was trembling.

The rich, metallic scent of his blood filled the air. An Alpha's blood held powerful healing properties, but I turned my head away in disgust.

"I don't need it."

"You're dying!" he growled, grabbing my chin with a force that felt like it would crush my jaw. "Drink it!"

"Then let me die!" I shoved his hand away. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Something flickered in Fenris's eyes—pain, perhaps—but it was quickly masked by anger. "Freya, I told you. I'm not letting you die. Not yet."

He forced my jaw open and poured his blood down my throat. As the warm liquid slid down, my wounds began to slowly heal. But the Silverthorn Toxin in my system immediately fought back. A violent rejection wracked my body, and I convulsed as if being pierced by a thousand needles.

"Dammit!" Fenris recoiled. "Get the healing draught! Now!" His forehead was beaded with sweat. My agony was clearly causing him pain as well.

"Drink this," he said, holding the vial to my lips.

I shook my head weakly. "It's no use… It's too late…"

"Freya!" His voice was laced with desperation. "This is the best time for treatment! You have to drink it."

The best time. How ironic. I didn't even have the strength to lift my hand.

"Don't waste your energy… It's… useless…"

Fenris looked at my frail form and sighed, saying no more. He tilted his head back, downing the draught himself, then leaned over me and crushed his lips to mine.

He tilted his head, forcing the warm liquid from his mouth to mine. But before I could swallow, a violent spasm wracked my body and I began to vomit.

Clots of black blood, mixed with shimmering, silver particles, spewed from my mouth. The particles glittered eerily under the light, seeming to writhe as if they were alive.

The color drained from Fenris's face. He was horrified.

"What… What is this?" he stared at the silver flecks. "Where the hell is the healer? Get in here now!"

"Silverthorn Toxin," I interrupted, slumping weakly against the pillows. Each breath was like tearing my own chest open. "It's been in my blood. For ten years."