What The Blood Knows

I didn’t sleep that night—not because I was scared. Fear and I had come to terms ages ago. I stayed awake because my mind wouldn’t shut up and my wolf kept pacing, and honestly, trying to rest felt useless.

So I parked myself at my desk until two in the morning, sifting through what I knew and what I didn’t. The gap between those was wide enough to make me nervous.

Here’s what I had: Selene had been poisoning Damien with Darkroot compound. I didn’t know for how long. She’d spun a story to make him reject me three years ago. Tonight, she’d followed Marcus, which meant she’d been tracking him, picked up on him leaving Darkwood, knew exactly where he was headed. Then she sent me a four-word message—could be a warning or a threat. Honestly, I wasn't sure which bothered me more.

But I didn’t know why. That was the thing gnawing at me, keeping me up. No one goes all-in the way she had without a motive. Years spent weaving a careful plan doesn’t happen for nothing. She focused on Damien, cut me out, slipped herself into the Darkwood Pack, all while poisoning its Alpha.

There’s something she wanted. What? No clue.

Around two thirty, I gave up on sleep and wandered into the kitchen to make tea. The building slept. Most wolves were crashed out. The night staff moved quietly, checking on things. I stood at the kettle, lost in my thoughts, when I heard footsteps on the stairs—light, hesitant.

I turned. It was Isla. Twenty-two, just two days with us, moving like she thought the floor might vanish any second. Her sweater hung off her, she was barefoot, eyes ringed red from crying, not sleeping.

She stopped. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was down here. I’ll go back up.”

“You don’t have to,” I said. “Want tea?”

She hesitated, then sat at the table, knees hugged tight. I made two cups, put one in front of her, sat across, and kept quiet. Sometimes you just need someone who won’t try to fix you right away.

We sat in silence for a while.

She finally asked, “Does it get quieter?” I knew what she meant—bond pain, that endless noise inside you.

“Yeah,” I said.

“When?”

“It’s different for everyone. For me, about four months before it stopped screaming every minute. Eight months, before it stopped whispering every hour.” I wrapped my hands around my cup. “But yeah—it gets quieter.”

She nodded, staring at her tea.

“My wolf keeps trying to go back,” she admitted. “Even knowing what he did. She pulls toward him, and I have to fight her, and I’m tired.”

“I know.”

“How’d you stop it?”

I had to really think. “I stopped fighting her. That worked for me. Instead, I told her the truth: the person she wanted wasn’t who she thought, and we were going to build something better than what we lost. She didn’t believe me at first.” I paused. “Eventually she did.”

Isla watched me.

“Did you?” she asked. “Build something better?”

I looked around—the kitchen, the building, the corridors where twenty-something wolves slept safe. The work I’d poured three years into had shaped who I was.

“Yeah,” I said. “I did.”

A quiet moment passed.

Then Isla said, “I heard staff talking—you used to be a Luna.”

“I was.”

“And your mate rejected you.”

“He did.”

She looked at me, trying to figure out how someone gets from that to this—from being rejected to running a place full of people you’ve helped. I didn’t have a tidy answer, so I just nodded and drank my tea and let her sit with it.

We stayed there about half an hour. Not much more was said. But when she finally went upstairs, she moved steadier, like the floor might stick around this time. I counted that as progress.

I went back to my desk.

At four my phone rang: Dr. Nadia Osei. She’s our foundation’s go-to medical expert since year one. She never calls at four a.m. unless it’s bad.

I answered fast. “Talk to me.”

“I’m at Darkwood.” Her voice was low—cautious, a flag for trouble. “Initial bloodwork on Alpha Cole is done.”

“And?”

She paused. “Aria, it’s not just Darkroot.”

I sat up straighter. “Explain.”

“Darkroot is there, dosed consistently and long-term, based on how much he’s got in his system. But there’s a second compound underneath. Something new—meant to speed up bond severance, way beyond what Darkroot does alone.” Pause. “Whoever designed this knew exactly what they were doing. Darkroot’s the slow poison. The second one’s the accelerant. Together, they’re working fast.”

I pressed my hand to the desk.

“How fast?” I asked.

“At this rate?” Nadia was careful. “Not sixty days, Aria. More like thirty. Maybe less, depending how long he’s had the second compound.”

Thirty days. Maybe less.

“Can you treat it?”

“Darkroot, yes, if I have enough time and the right protocol. But for the second compound—I need to identify it before I can develop anything. That’ll take at least a week, with what I’ve got.”

“What happens to him while you’re working it out?”

“He keeps deteriorating.” Nadia’s voice softened like she hated delivering news like this. “Aria, I want to be honest: Without treatment for both, thirty days is the best-case.”

The building was silent. I sat there, feeling the weight of what she was telling me settle in, piece by piece.

Damien Cole had maybe thirty days. Or less. And the only one around with what it takes to fight this—resources and knowledge—was me. Not something I asked for. It just…happened, quietly, like most truth does, while you’re busy with other things.

“Nadia,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Stay at Darkwood tonight. Don’t let her near him.”

A short pause. “Her?”

“The woman at the house. Selene. Keep her away from his food, water, anything he eats or drinks. Tell the Beta, he’ll back you.”

“Understood.” A beat. “Are you coming?”

I glanced outside. The sky had shifted from black to deep blue. Somewhere out there, a man I’d once loved was dying because a woman had poisoned him. And she’d gotten away with it for three years, mostly because I wasn’t there.

Wasn’t my fault, I knew that. But knowing and letting go aren’t always the same, and I never backed off from something I could fix—even if fixing it was a pain.

“Tell me something first,” I said. “The bond. From his side. Is anything left?”

Nadia was quiet. When she spoke, her voice was careful. “It’s advanced, but something’s still there, Aria. Not fully dead. I’ve only seen that when the rejection wasn’t genuine. When the wolf did it against their own bond.”

He’d rejected me to protect me. His wolf knew it was wrong. Three years later, some part of it still lived.

My own wolf pressed against my ribs, hard. I had to breathe through it.

“I’ll be there by noon,” I said.

I hung up before she could respond.

Sat at my desk for a long while after—not thinking exactly, more letting everything settle, putting it in order.

I wasn’t going to Darkwood for Damien. I was going because Selene made herself my problem the minute she showed up tonight—threatening me, trailing Marcus, poisoning a man while a whole pack watched him die and called it grief. I can’t ignore that. Not because of who he is, but because of what I am.

Walking away isn’t in me.

I got up and knocked on Lena’s door.

She opened it in four seconds, already dressed. Hadn’t been sleeping either.

“I need you to hold things down here,” I said.

She looked at me. “Darkwood?”

“Yep.”

“How long?”

“Not sure yet.”

She nodded. No pushback, no questions. That’s Lena.

“Wren’s going to have opinions,” she said.

“Wren always does.”

“These’ll be loud.”

“I know.” I turned to go pack. “Let her be loud, just cover the intake cases and Thursday’s support group.”

“Already done,” Lena said. “Started the moment Marcus walked through that gate.”

I stopped. Looked at her.

Her eyebrow went up. “I know you, Aria. You think I didn’t see this coming since I told you the wolf outside was from Darkwood?”

I almost smiled.

Time to pack. Same bag I’d packed three years ago in twelve shaky minutes, bond burning through me. This time, my hands were steady. I was choosing to go back.

That was the difference.

Almost finished, my phone buzzed—another message from Selene.

I warned you.

I stared at it.

Typed back: I know.

Sent it, zipped up my bag, and got ready to move.