CHAPTER 4: The Luna's Suite

The medical wing occupies the entire east side of the second floor. Kade leads me down a hallway I've walked a thousand times in my imagination—as Luna, checking on sick pack members, bringing comfort and healing.

The irony tastes bitter.

He stops outside the largest suite, hand on the doorknob. "She's weak. The healers have done everything they can, but..."

"But they need my blood." I finish his sentence flatly. "I know. That's why I'm here."

"Isla, I—"

"Don't." I cut him off before he can finish whatever apology or explanation he thinks will help. "Just open the door."

His jaw tightens, but he complies. The door swings open, and the smell hits me first: sickness and antiseptic and something else. Something wrong that makes my wolf recoil instinctively.

Death. The room smells like death.

The Luna's suite is exactly as I imagined it would be. Massive four-poster bed with gauzy curtains, sitting area with plush furniture, windows overlooking the forest. Soft blues and silvers, calming and elegant.

And in the center of that beautiful bed lies a nightmare.

Serena Blackthorn is barely recognizable. The golden-haired beauty who smiled triumphantly as she stole my mate has been reduced to a skeletal figure drowning in silk sheets. Her skin is gray, stretched too tight over bones that shouldn't be visible. Black veins spider across her arms, her neck, disappearing beneath her nightgown.

But her belly. Her pregnant belly rounds beneath the covers, a grotesque contrast to her wasted frame.

A woman in healer's robes stands beside the bed, checking vitals with practiced efficiency. She's older, maybe sixty, with silver-streaked brown hair pulled into a bun. Her expression is professionally neutral, but I see the exhaustion in her eyes.

"Elite Warrior Gray," Kade says formally. "This is Margot, our head healer. Margot, this is—"

"I know who she is." Margot's voice is gentle but firm. She looks at me with something that might be respect. "Thank you for coming. I know this isn't easy."

"It's a job." I move closer to the bed, forcing myself to look at Serena clinically. Patient, not person. Symptom, not story. "Brief me on her condition."

Margot pulls out a chart, but she doesn't need it. "Unknown toxin introduced approximately six weeks ago. Initial symptoms were fatigue and nausea, which we attributed to pregnancy. Then the veins started darkening, spreading from her left wrist."

I step closer, and that's when Serena's eyes flutter open. Milky blue, barely focused.

"You came," she whispers. Her voice is paper-thin, cracking on the second word.

I don't respond. Can't give her the satisfaction.

"The poison is concentrated at the mate mark," Margot continues, gesturing to Serena's wrist. "It's spreading through her cardiovascular system. We've tried every antidote, every healing technique. Nothing works. She's dying, and we don't know how to stop it."

I pull on medical gloves from my bag—always prepared, that's what Elite training taught me—and carefully lift Serena's wrist. The mate mark that should be silver and beautiful is black and festering, raised and angry-looking.

"May I?" I ask Margot, pulling out a small scanner from my medical kit.

"Of course."

I run the scanner over the mark, watching the readout. Chemical composition, magical resonance, cellular degradation. The numbers paint a grim picture.

"This isn't just poison." The words come out slowly as understanding dawns. "This is bond poison. Dark magic specifically designed to corrupt mate bonds."

Margot goes completely still. "That's impossible. Bond poison hasn't been used in over a century. The practice was outlawed by the Council of Ancients."

"Well, someone didn't get the memo." I study the readout more carefully. The magical signature is distinct, intentional. "Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. This level of precision requires serious power and knowledge."

Kade steps forward. "What does that mean for Serena? For the baby?"

I glance at the monitors attached to Serena. Heart rate irregular. Blood pressure dangerously low. But the fetal monitor shows strong, steady heartbeat.

"It means the poison is targeting the mate bond specifically. It's trying to kill the connection between you two, but Serena's body is fighting to maintain it. The conflict is destroying her from the inside out." I set down the scanner. "The baby is protected for now—fetal biology is separate from the mother's mate bond. But if Serena dies..."

"The baby dies too." Kade's voice is hollow.

"Most likely, yes."

Silence falls over the room. Margot makes notes on her chart. Kade stares at Serena with an expression I can't read. And I stand there feeling absolutely nothing.

No. That's a lie. I feel satisfaction. Dark, ugly satisfaction that Serena is suffering the way she made me suffer.

I hate myself for it. But I can't make it stop.

"I need to run some tests," I say, forcing my voice to remain professional. "Draw blood, check compatibility, create a baseline. Margot, can you assist?"

"Of course."

"I'll leave you to it." Kade moves toward the door, but hesitates at the threshold. "Isla, I—thank you. For coming. For helping."

I don't acknowledge him. Just pull out my blood draw kit and start prepping.

He leaves, the door closing with a soft click.

Margot works quietly beside me, handing me supplies before I ask. She's good at her job, efficient and calm. We draw three vials of Serena's blood, then three of mine for comparison.

"I'll run these through the lab," Margot says, labeling the vials carefully. "Should have preliminary results in a few hours."

"Good. I'll need detailed records of everything you've tried so far. Every treatment, every drug, every magical intervention."

"I'll have it sent to your room." She pauses. "We've prepared guest quarters for you in the west wing."

Not the Luna's suite. Not even the family wing. Guest quarters, like I'm a stranger.

Which I suppose I am now.

"Fine." I start packing my equipment. "I'll review the records tonight and develop a treatment plan."

"Elite Warrior Gray?" Margot's voice is gentle. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. For what happened to you here. You didn't deserve it."

I zip my bag with more force than necessary. "It doesn't matter what I deserved. It matters what happened."

She nods and gathers the blood samples. "I'll be in the lab if you need anything."

The door closes behind her, leaving me alone with Serena.

The silence stretches. I should leave too. Should go find my room, review medical files, keep this professional.

Instead, I find myself staring at the woman in the bed. The woman who destroyed my life.

"Isla." Her voice is barely a breath.

I don't answer. Don't move.

"I'm sorry." A single tear slides down her gaunt cheek. "I know it doesn't matter. I know sorry doesn't fix anything. But I am. I'm so sorry."

"Save your strength." My voice comes out colder than I intended. "You'll need it for treatment."

"I don't care about me." Her hand moves to her swollen belly. "Please. I know you hate me. I know you have every right to let me die. But my baby... she didn't do anything wrong. She's innocent."

I should feel vindicated. Should enjoy watching her beg. Instead, I just feel tired.

"I'm here for the child," I say finally. "Not you."

"That's all I ask." More tears now, silent and devastating. "Just save her. That's all that matters."

I turn away, unable to watch her cry. Three years ago, I would have given anything to see Serena broken and begging. Now that it's happening, it just feels hollow.

Maybe revenge always does.

I'm preparing to leave when something catches my eye. The mate mark on Serena's wrist—I move closer, studying it more carefully.

The black veins pulse faintly. Not with blood, but with something else. A purple light, so subtle I almost missed it. It glows and fades in a rhythm that doesn't match her heartbeat.

Magic. Active magic.

I pull out my scanner again, adjusting settings for magical detection. The readings spike immediately, showing sustained enchantment far beyond what normal bond poison would require.

Someone isn't just poisoning Serena. Someone is actively maintaining the spell, feeding it power.

Which means whoever did this is still close. Still watching.

Still dangerous.

The door opens behind me, and I spin, hand instinctively going to the silver blade I keep strapped to my thigh.

A male voice, achingly familiar: "Isla? Is that really you?"

I freeze.

No. It can't be.

Kieran Blackthorn stands in the doorway, and my entire world tilts sideways. He was supposed to be gone. Exiled after challenging Kade over my rejection. The last I heard, he'd left pack lands and never looked back.

But here he is. Taller than I remember, lean muscle instead of Kade's bulk. Dark brown hair that catches auburn in the light, pulled back in a small tail. The scar running from temple to jaw—that's new. Evidence of battles I know nothing about.

His amber eyes lock onto mine, and I see everything he's feeling: shock, relief, joy, pain. All of it naked on his face.

"You came back," he breathes.

I can't speak. Can't move. Three years of building walls, and Kieran Blackthorn just walked through them like they're made of smoke.

Behind him, I hear footsteps. Voices. More pack members drawn by the commotion.

And I'm trapped in the Luna's suite with my dying enemy, mysterious dark magic, and the man who nearly died defending my honor.

The man whose eyes are asking questions I can't answer.

The man who just complicated everything.