Chapter 3

Three hours later, a flashy pink sports car finally pulled up to the clinic.

The door opened, and Isla stepped out on sky-high heels. She was poured into a tight, deep-V red dress so short it barely covered her thighs, and she was practically spilling out of it.

Worse, she reeked of male pheromones—and not from just one man.

"Oh my goddess, Damien!" Isla covered her mouth theatrically. "You're hurt so badly!"

By now, Damien was semi-conscious from blood loss. He barely managed to open his eyes, his gaze still full of blind devotion. "Isla… you're here…"

I stood to the side, watching the melodrama. Martha's face was as black as thunder.

"This is your 'best healer'?" Martha demanded, gesturing at Isla's outfit. "Is she dressed for a nightclub or to save a life?"

Isla frowned. "Martha, please don't judge someone's professional ability by their clothes. I just rushed over from a medical conference—"

"A medical conference?" The local head healer, Elder Thomas, scoffed. "Young lady, I just got back from that conference myself. You weren't there. And with your qualifications, you wouldn't have been invited to attend an event of that level anyway."

Isla's face turned bright red. "I… I was at a breakout session—"

"Enough!" Damien struggled to sit up, glaring at everyone. "I don't care what any of you think! I only want Isla to treat me!"

Elder Thomas shook his head. "Young Alpha, this is no joke. Your injury requires a senior healer, and," he glanced at Isla, "this young woman is in no condition to perform a healing ritual. The smell of alcohol on her will interfere with the process."

"I haven't been drinking!" Isla denied it, but the flush on her face and her unsteady footing gave her away.

I chose that moment to speak up, my voice laced with false concern. "Isla, maybe you should rest first? Treating a wound this serious requires a healer to be in peak condition. Besides…"

I paused for effect, then put on my most innocent expression. "If something goes wrong, your reputation will be destroyed. After all, Damien is the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack. If the healing fails…"

On the surface, it sounded like I was worried about her, but I was really implying she was incompetent and spelling out the consequences of failure. Two birds, one stone.

Sure enough, Isla's face paled. She looked pitifully at Damien. "Damien, they're all doubting my abilities…"

"I'm not doubting you!" I immediately "clarified." "I'm just worried you're too tired. Look, you can barely even stand up straight—"

SMACK!

The sharp crack of a slap echoed as my head snapped to the side.

Damien's hand trembled, his eyes burning with rage. "Elara! Enough! I know you’re jealous of Isla, but you don’t get to attack her with your own bitter poison!"

I clutched my stinging cheek, tears instantly welling in my eyes. Not from pain, but from fury.

That slap was all the proof I needed of this man's cruelty and stupidity. It only hardened my resolve for revenge.

"I… I was just worried about you…" I sobbed.

"Worried? This is how you show you're worried?" Damien staggered to his feet and went to Isla's side. "You're just jealous that Isla is more talented than you, jealous that I trust her!"

Martha couldn't watch anymore. "Damien! Have you lost your mind? Elara is your Luna! How could you hit her for an outsider?"

"Outsider?" Damien sneered. "Isla is the person I trust most in this world. She's more important than anyone!"

More important than anyone… including me, his supposed Luna.

"Fine. If you trust her so much," I said, "then put your life in her hands. But on one condition: you sign a blood pact. If the healing fails, she bears the consequences."

A blood pact was the most binding contract in our world. If Isla caused Damien’s death, whether by intent or gross incompetence, she would die, too.

Isla's face went white. "That… that's not necessary, is it? There should be basic trust between us—"

"Scared?" I smiled faintly. "If you're really as good as you say, why are you afraid to sign?"

"I'm not scared!" Isla stammered, her voice trembling.

Damien looked at Isla's nervous face, his heart aching for her. "We don't need a pact. I trust Isla—"

I cut him off. "If Damien trusts Isla's abilities so much, then signing a blood pact will only prove her innocence."

Everyone, including Damien, turned to look at me. A flash of surprise crossed his eyes—the Elara from his past life would never have suggested such a thing.

I had to give him a reason.

"I… I want to prove I'm not opposing Isla out of jealousy," I bit my lip, acting as if I'd been cornered. "If she really heals you, then it proves I was wrong. And I will admit my mistake."

Damien stared at me for a few long seconds, then finally nodded. "Fine. I'll sign."

Elder Thomas produced a contract scroll, his voice grave. "Damien Blackwood, are you certain you wish to sign this pact? Once it is signed, it cannot be undone."

"I'm certain." Without hesitation, Damien bit his own finger and let a drop of blood fall onto the scroll. The crimson droplet instantly soaked into the parchment, forming a complex rune.

Isla stared at the blood pact, her hands shaking. But with everyone watching, she had no choice but to sign her name.

"Very well," Elder Thomas said, rolling up the scroll. "The ritual can begin. Everyone, please move back to the safe zone."

A large energy shield enveloped the healing area. Isla shot us a triumphant look, then pushed Damien, who was lying on a gurney, into the ritual circle.

"Just wait and see," she taunted with a smirk. "I'll show you what real healing looks like."

The shield closed, and we were left to wait outside.

An hour passed.

Then two.

In the third hour, the circle began to flicker with an unnatural light, a color that didn't belong in a proper healing ritual.

Martha gripped my arm nervously. "That light… something's wrong."

Elder Thomas's face grew grim. "She's using the wrong herbal combination. If this continues, it will—"

His words were cut off by a guttural, animalistic scream.

The sound was completely inhuman, filled with pain, despair, and… an unspeakable horror.

Three hours in, with that animalistic scream, the energy shield around the ritual circle finally shattered.