C5

Mars Reed POV

"Then sit your massive ass down and stop moving, Alpha," Dr. Quincy orders, her fingers moving instantly to press a clean linen cloth over the tearing flesh of his chest. "Let me seal this gash before it ruins the stitching entirely. You definitely do not want Mars Reed walking through that oak door only to find you completely drenched in your own blood, do you?"

My breath hitches behind the door as I listen. Silas was completely right about one thing during their shouting match—my scent, my presence, my entire existence is the absolute weak spot of the great Alpha Grant Walker.

And right now, the pack healer is using that exact vulnerability to keep his dominant beast completely locked down.

Seeing his son finally drop his wild aura and cooperate with the needles, Silas’s sharp panic softens slightly, but the heavy scent of raw irritation instantly floods the space. "You are completely wrecking your own physical strength and risking your position as the Apex leader over a rogue wolf?"

"Mars went through absolute hell just to reach the inner borders to look at my face while the silver was burning my veins," Grant growls, his voice deep and raspy from the strain. "You did not seem to care a single bit about his safety when the rogues were tracking his scent, did you?"

"He does not carry the high lineage of the Walker bloodline!"

Grant lets out a low, guttural snort of pure disdain. "Carrying the Walker name does not make our blood any sweeter or put us above the rest of the pack."

Silas has never had his absolute authority thrown back in his face like this by his own flesh and blood. The old alpha's scent turns so bitter and sharp with fury that I can hear his breathing become ragged through the wood.

Quincy, sensing the pack magic in the room is about to snap and cause a full pack war, quickly cuts between them while working her thread. "Alright, Silas! Can we stop the snarling? The patient needs to keep his pulse steady and let the herbs work if he wants to shift anytime soon. This raw anger is doing nothing for his flesh!"

"He is the one snapping his jaws at me!"

"Well, how about you and your mate take a run through the deep woods for a few hours? That way, Alpha Grant cannot reach your throat to pick a fight." Quincy’s hands move with practiced, lightning-fast speed as she wipes away the fresh blood and binds the massive alpha's chest with clean linen wraps, though the tracking stones are completely ruined from him ripping them loose.

Once the bindings are secure, Quincy motions for Silas to step out into the stone corridor, wanting a private conversation away from the wounded leader to keep him from shifting out of anger. But just as her boots click toward the exit, Grant’s deep voice calls out from the furs.

"Do not let Mars know about the blood or the fight."

"You finally realize he would lose his mind with worry, huh?"

With a low sigh, Quincy focuses on separating the two dominant wolves before they tear the infirmary apart.

She guides Silas down the hall and into her private medicine room, pouring a horn of fresh spring water and offering a calm look. "Silas, there is no need to let your wolf run hot. What is so terrible that a father and son cannot talk it over in the den?"

"There is absolutely nothing to discuss! After all this time down, his beast still refuses to bend. He is completely set on claiming that rogue Mars Reed as his true lunar mate!"

Quincy freezes, her hands stopping over her herb jars. "Isn't he already bound to—"

"The Walker elders will never let a stray wolf sit on the pack throne!" Silas slams his heavy fist down on the wooden desk, splitting the edge of the log. "Even if it means stripping my own son of his alpha title and forcing him out of the territory, I will never allow such a mate into the high lineage! I tried to let him run his own den without interference, but look at him now—so completely obsessed with Mars that he is letting his own flesh rot from silver poisoning! How am I supposed to watch my own blood ruin his life and not feel my chest rip apart?"

Silas’s face is dark with absolute rage. Quincy quickly steps closer, rubbing a soothing lavender balm between her palms to counter his heavy scent before he shifts from pure stress.

"Even if your wolves do not match, you need to speak about the line without baring your fangs! Do not make a reckless move. Both you and your mate are carrying old battle scars. I have smelled your vitals, and you know your heart cannot take this level of fury."

"I would love nothing more than to run the hills in peace! But my law stands clear: Mars Reed is never setting foot inside the high pack house."

"Why?" Quincy asks, genuine confusion crossing her face, though she knows the brutal rules of the high bloodlines. The constant friction between different packs, the boundaries of territory, and the pride of the ruling wolves. "Does he not know his place? How could a rogue ever be worthy of the Walker line? Quincy, I am not trying to be a cruel beast, but you were birthed in a high-ranking northern pack just like us. If you wanted to take some low-grade lone wolf to your furs, your alpha parents would have severed your bond instantly!"

Quincy stays quiet, her mind tracking through the harsh realities of the wild. She shifts her weight, finally nodding her head. She hates the cold truth of it, but pack law is absolute.

It is the dark curse of the ruling lines; the heirs of the great territories are always forced into political matchings to keep the borders strong. They can barely find a shred of freedom, especially an only alpha heir like Grant.

"I can smell the truth of it, you know? Alpha Grant and Mars share a bond that goes deeper than the physical heat. They are truly matched by the moon." Quincy knows that pure affection cannot wipe out the brutal reality of the pack lands. But the raw power of their bond, and the way they are both willing to take a silver blade for each other, is something she has never seen in all her years as a healer. It moves her wolf.

"The moon bond is easy to claim when the weather is clear, but it breaks into pieces when the winter storms hit the territory and the food runs out!" Silas has more to say, but he catches Quincy's steady gaze and shuts his jaw. His stance remains completely unyielding. "Regardless, I am not giving my blessing."

I jog back up the stone steps after leaving Jessa in the lower cabins, throwing the heavy oak door open, only to stop dead in my tracks when I see Grant already sitting straight up against the headboard of the bed.

A rush of relief hits my chest, my wolf humming with sudden joy. "Did Dr. Quincy take the tracking stones off your skin early? Does this mean your alpha healing is finally moving fast?"

Grant’s sharp features instantly stiffen. He looks like he wants to nod, but his jaw sets tightly as he changes the subject, his golden eyes scanning my leather tunic.

"I feel like my legs are strong enough to shift and run the boundary lines right now."

"You are doing no such thing! Not until the healer says the silver is fully out of your blood." I step closer to the furs, picking up a damp cloth from the wash basin to clean the dried sweat from his throat. That is when my nose catches it—the sharp, iron scent of fresh blood. I look down. "Your wraps... they look completely new. Did the gashes start leaking again?"

"Quincy just put fresh linen on. She had to clean the skin after pulling the tracking stones loose," he says smoothly, keeping his voice steady. Luckily, my mind is so relieved by his clear eyes that I do not push for the details of what happened while I was gone.

"Grant, just keep your beast calm and heal. I cannot bear carrying this heavy weight of guilt over your broken body anymore."

I look straight into his dark eyes, completely honest. The weight of his sacrifice for my safety is a massive burden pressed against my shoulders, keeping my wolf restless day and night.

"I do not want your guilt, Mars," Grant growls, his hand shooting out to grip the back of my neck, his eyes burning with absolute sincerity and dominance. "You know exactly what my wolf wants from you. You agreed to the old man's terms regarding the pups, didn't you?"

I freeze, the damp cloth slipping from my fingers onto the floor. "He told you?"

"I knew it... I knew the elders would corner you the second my scent went weak!"

In those final, agonizing moments before the silver put him under, Grant’s entire mind had been consumed by the terror of what would happen to me if his wolf died or remained locked in a coma. The Walker council would surely hunt me down, drive me out, or take the twins by force.

But his body had given out, forcing his eyes shut while his beast screamed with pure panic.

"Keep your aura down," I say, forcing a calm smile to stop his chest from heaving. "I gave them my word on the terms because, first, the Walker estate can give the Reed Walker Twins the ultimate training and resources of a true alpha legacy, and second, because it was the only way they would let me through the gates to save your life. It benefits both sides, honestly."

"I do not believe for a second that your wolf would surrender our pups that easily." Grant glares at me, reading right through my scent.

I feel completely bare under his intense gaze, unable to hide a single thought from my true alpha.

"It tears my chest apart, Grant. But as their parents, we have to look at the long-term survival of the bloodline. I am thinking about their future."

"Abigail and Langston can inherit the entire West Coast territory without my father's permission! Their father is still breathing, Mars."

As long as his heart is beating, he will never let anyone touch our babies.

"Look at you, snarling over nothing," I mutter, turning away because I cannot face the raw intensity in his eyes without breaking down. "Rest your body. I am going to find Dr. Quincy and see if she has a soothing ointment for the skin on your legs."

I bolt out of the den before he can growl out a command for me to stay.

As I walk down the stone corridor toward the medicine room, my sharp wolf ears pick up a deep, familiar voice echoing from inside the cracked doorway. It is Silas.

"Quincy, if you would just take the position as our daughter-in-law and mate the Alpha..."