Chapter 4

For the next three weeks, I didn't argue with Margaret.

I transferred my cases, packed, remade the research samples, and checked Scott's kennel every day.

Margaret mistook my silence for surrender.

Chloe moved into my old office and replaced the pictures on the wall. Then she put her name on the emergency procedures I had written. Every so often, she texted me.

[CHLOE: Where do you keep the post-op observation forms?]

[CHLOE: What dose of sedative is safe for a young wolf during a shift?]

[CHLOE: I have a board presentation tomorrow. Can you send me your old reports so I have something to work from?]

I didn't answer a single message.

She had been given my title, not my skill.

On the first morning after the full moon, Margaret and Chloe brought workers to collect old center records. I was upstairs confirming my transfer date by video when the yard alarm beeped.

By the time I ran downstairs, the gate was closing and a delivery van was disappearing around the corner.

The outside door of Scott's kennel stood open.

He was gone.

My mind went blank. "Who opened the kennel?"

Chloe clutched a box of records as the color drained from her face. "The workers were carrying things out. I thought Scott was upstairs with you."

"I asked who opened the door!"

Margaret stood near the gate, staring at the broken leash on the ground. She clearly remembered the vision she'd had three weeks earlier.

But she didn't answer, and she didn't start searching.

She reached for Chloe first, steadying her because my shout had frightened her.

Something inside me snapped. I ran for my car.

Scott never wandered. If he got out, he followed the road to the medical center and waited for me.

[The south intersection.]

Margaret's warning stabbed through my head.

At the intersection, a crowd had gathered near the median. Scott lay beside it, his red collar torn in two. Blood bubbled from his mouth with every shallow breath.

I dropped to my knees and pressed my hand to his neck. "Look at me, Scott. Don't go to sleep."

His eyes opened a fraction. His tail brushed the pavement once, just as it had after he found me in that blizzard.

I rushed him to a veterinary hospital. Within minutes, the diagnosis came back: ruptured spleen, multiple fractures, failing heart.

The surgeon pulled off her gloves. "We can operate, but I can't promise he'll survive the anesthesia."

I called Margaret.

The first seven calls went unanswered. On the eighth, chairs scraped in the background. Chloe was preparing for her director's presentation.

"Mom, Scott was hit by a car." My voice shook so badly I barely recognized it. "A new lunar cycle has started. You can use your blessing again. Please save him."

Silence.

"Just let him survive surgery. I'll pay whatever you want—my formula, council seat, remaining shares. Take all of it."

Margaret's breathing hitched.

Like the child I used to be, I strained to pull an answer from her silence.

"Please. Just say one sentence. He saved my life."

Before Margaret answered, Chloe's anxious voice came through the phone. "Mom, my wolf is acting up again. The board and the Alpha are outside. If I lose control during the presentation, they'll revoke my appointment."

Margaret spoke at once. "Take a breath, sweetheart."

"It's not working. I can feel her pounding at my mind. Mom, can you help me? I only need to get through today's presentation."

I stopped breathing. "Mom. Scott is in surgery."

For several seconds, the line was quiet.

Then Margaret spoke to Chloe in the tender voice I had waited more than twenty years to hear.

"Your wolf will remain calm today. You'll finish the presentation, and everyone in that room will recognize that you deserve the position."

A faint crack sounded through the phone as the blessing took hold.

I knew the amber markings at Margaret's throat had flared. She had spent the month's only binding blessing, not to save Chloe's life, but to make her look competent during a presentation.

At that exact moment, a piercing alarm tore through the operating room.

The surgeon came out moments later. I knew before she spoke.

"I'm sorry. We couldn't bring him back."

The phone slipped from my hand.

I touched Scott's cooling ear. His tail didn't move again.

Then the Northern registry officer called.

"Dr. Harper, your transfer has been approved. Once it takes effect, Harper Medical Center's emergency certification will be reviewed because it's registered under your license."

"Confirm it. And send the car tonight."

After arranging Scott's cremation, I returned home for my final suitcase.

Margaret and Chloe were still celebrating at the center.

I left my Black Pine badge, the finalized transfer notice, and Scott's broken red collar on the table.

The northern car arrived after midnight.

As we crossed the Black Pine border, my phone began to vibrate.

Eleven missed calls from Margaret.

Then Chloe's message appeared.

[CHLOE: The Medical Council may suspend the center's emergency certification. Mom says you need to come back and fix this.]

For more than twenty years, I had built whole answers from Margaret's silence.

That night, I gave her one of my own.

I turned off my phone and never looked back.