Look At Her!

Ever since that dark day eight years ago, the pack elders had tried every trick in the book to set their Alpha up with someone new. They prayed for a woman who could make him whole again, someone strong enough to drag him out from the suffocating ashes of his past. But Carl was as stubborn as a mule. He treated every prospective match like an hostile force, systematically isolating himself from the world until he had far more enemies than friends.

​Before the tragedy, Carl was never overly warm, but he was at least human enough to tolerate life. After losing his mate and unborn child, however, he hardened into something bordering on a monster.

During those time, he had even tried to surrender his title, offering the Alpha seat to his sister, but she had flatly refused. Chloe had zero desire to lead the Blood Moon Pack unless she found a fated mate who happened to possess Alpha blood. Otherwise, she was perfectly content remaining her twin’s second-in-command for life. At twenty-eight, Chloe was still waiting, nursing a quiet, secret hope of finding her own mate and feeling the true bliss of a bonded soul.

As she drove back into the heart of the pack territory, Her blockhead of a twin hadn't so much as spared a glance for another female in eight long years, yet the moment this stranger crossed the border, he had actually paid attention. When his mind-link had reached her demanding women’s clothing, a flicker of foolish hope had bloomed in her chest.

​Then she had arrived at the border, and her jaw had nearly dropped even half-dead and coated in dirt, the woman crumpled at Carl's feet was an ethereal sight. Chloe couldn't help but wonder if that striking, fragile beauty was the reason Carl had hesitated. Maybe she had tugged at a piece of his long-buried heart, even if only for a fraction of a second.

​Glancing in the rearview mirror, Chloe’s eyes softened as she checked on the pale, unconscious stranger stretched across the back seat. Whoever you are, Chloe thought silently, you already mean something to my brother. That idiot is just too proud to admit it.

​Pulling into the pack house driveway, Chloe brought the van to a smooth stop outside the infirmary doors. She parked the van, her jaw setting with resolve. Carl could treat this woman like a threat all he wanted, but Chloe was going to make damn sure she survived the night.

​

​Stepping out into the cool air, Chloe opened the back door and carefully scooped the fragile woman into her arms. Rexiana felt dangerously light, her body burning with a quiet, lingering fever. Chloe carried her briskly through the double doors, where Marion, the pack’s head healer, immediately rushed forward from behind her desk.

​"Goddess above, Beta Chloe, who is this?" Marion gasped, her experienced eyes instantly scanning the battered stranger. "Is that... fresh blood?"

​"The Alpha found her at the border," Chloe said, placing Rexiana gently onto the central examination bed. "He wanted to drive her away, but I refused to let him leave her out there to die. Marion, please, look at her. She's in terrible shape."

​Marion didn't waste a second. She cut away the mud-stained coat and pulled back the auburn hair covering Rexiana's throat. The moment Marion saw the jagged, inflamed scar on her collarbone, she froze, taking a sharp breath.

​"This isn't just physical exhaustion or battle wounds," Marion murmured, her fingers hovering inches over the raw flesh. "Her mate bond... it was forcibly torn away. She's suffering from severe bond shock."

​Chloe’s heart sank. A rejected or severed mate bond was agonizing enough, but a violent, forced tear could shatter a wolf's spirit entirely, often driving the host to give up on living.

​"Can you stabilize her?" Chloe asked, concern lacing her voice.

​"I can try to ease the fever and steady her pulse," Marion replied, reaching for a tray of herbal salves and clean linen. "But bond shock is a sickness of the soul, Chloe. If her spirit doesn't want to fight... no medicine in this pack can save her."

​Before Chloe could digest Marion's words, the heavy infirmary doors swung open with a bang. Carl strode into the room, his aura radiating cold, suffocating authority. His amber eyes swept over the medical equipment before locking onto his sister.

​"She's stabilized. Now prep her for transport," Carl ordered, his voice laced with cold, unyielding authority. "I've arranged for an unmarked car to take her to the human hospital."

​Chloe stepped directly into her brother's path, her jaw set. "She isn't going anywhere, Carl. Moving her right now will kill her."

​Carl’s expression didn't soften. His jaw clenched, dark suspicion flashing in his glowing eyes as he looked past Chloe toward the motionless, pale female on the bed.

​"Whether she lives or dies is none of our concern," Carl growled, his voice dropping into a harsh, dangerous rumble. "She doesn't belong here."

"You can't be serious!" Chloe snapped.

​In the entire Blood Moon Pack, only Chloe could dare speak to the God of Death with such raw, unfiltered defiance and live to tell the tale. Frustration boiled beneath her skin; she couldn't understand why her brother refused to listen to reason. But she knew him better than anyone: if Carl had truly intended to abandon the woman to die in the mud, he never would have mind-linked her to bring the van to the border in the first place.

​It was a decision Carl was already regretting as he stood watching his twin plead her case. His amber eyes narrowed, gaze locking onto the pale face resting against the white hospital pillow. "Everyone has a sob story, Chloe. That doesn't make her safe."

​"Look at her, Carl!" Chloe threw her hands up toward the bed, her voice sharp with anger. "She weighs nothing. Her ribs are practically poking through her skin, her body is covered in old bruises, and her mate crest was literally ripped out of her neck! Does she honestly look like a threat to you?"

​Carl took a slow, heavy step forward. He didn't want to look. Looking meant acknowledging her humanity, and acknowledging her humanity meant unlocking a door he had bolted and chained eight long years ago.

​When he reached the side of the examination table, his gaze unwillingly drifted down to the jagged, weeping wound on her collarbone. The flesh was raw, swollen, and blackening at the edges, the sickening, unmistakable mark of a bond brutally torn apart by force, leaving the soul to bleed out in the dark.

​For a split second, a sharp, sympathetic ache shot straight through Carl’s chest. He knew that agony all too well. He had felt his own soul tear in half the day his mate breathed her last, leaving behind the suffocating, hollow silence of a snapped bond.

​

​Rexiana stirred weakly, letting out a faint, shattered whimper. Her head rolled to the side, dark auburn hair shifting away from her face. Her lips moved, barely pushing out a thread of a whisper.

​"Clint... please..." she murmured in her delirium, tears slipping from her closed eyes into her hair. "I'll....I'll be good..."

​Carl’s jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped. The desperation in her broken voice was a mirror of his own past, a soul crushed under the weight of someone else's cruelty. Against his will, his hand twitched at his side, his palm burning with an absurd, instinctive urge to reach out and wipe the tear from her cheek.

​His wolf, suddenly rumbled deep within his ribs. Not with rage, but with a strange, protective urge that shocked Carl to his core. ​He recoiled as if burned, stepping back from the bed.

​"Put two guards outside this door," Carl growled, his voice rougher than usual as he masked his sudden internal storm with sheer venom. "No one enters without my permission. And the moment she wakes up, I conduct an interrogation myself."

​"Carl—" Chloe started.

​"That is my final word, Beta," Carl cut her off, unleashing just enough of his Alpha aura to freeze the room. He turned on his heel and strode out of the infirmary, the heavy double doors slamming shut behind him.

​Chloe let out a long breath, turning back to Marion, who was already applying a cooling salve to Rexiana's collarbone.

​"Did you see that?" Chloe whispered, a tiny, triumphant smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

​"See what, child?" Marion asked without looking up.

​"I say a few words and he backed down," Chloe said softly, looking toward the closed doors. "The God of Death actually backed down."

***

Carl stormed out of the infirmary in a quiet rage, his heart hammering against his ribs so violently it felt ready to burst through his chest. He was furious, mostly at himself, for not granting the frail woman a quick death when she begged for it. The moment he reached his top-floor office, he slammed the heavy mahogany door shut with a deafening thud, rattling the frame. He then began to pace the length of the Persian rug, muttering curses under his breath as he ripped off his coat and hurled it onto the leather sofa.

​His pulse thudded wildly in his ears. It hadn't raced like this in eight long years, not since the day the light faded from his mate’s eyes. His chest burned, tight and entirely out of his control, and he despised every agonizing second of it.

'She’s fragile, but cute.' a deep, gravelly voice echoed through his mind. ​Carl froze mid-stride, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief. Hunter. His wolf hadn't used that soft, protective tone to assess anyone in nearly a decade. Yet there Hunter sat, lounging casually within their shared subconscious like they were merely enjoying a light conversation.

'That weakness could easily be a facade,' Carl growled internally, rubbing his temples.

​'I know a fake when I smell one,' Hunter retorted, stretching leisurely. 'And that tiny, broken girl smells like rain and burnt sugar. She isn't hiding schemes, Carl, she’s just deeply hurt.'

​Carl choked on his own breath. 'It’s none of our damn business if she’s hurting! She’s an intruder! She could easily be a spy sent to slit my throat!'

'With what? Her exposed ribcage?' Hunter scoffed, his mental voice dripping with dry sarcasm. 'She can barely lift her chin, you idiot. If she attempted to assassinate us, she’d trip over her own feet and faint on the carpet.'

'I don’t care if she faints with every step she takes! We don’t adopt strays, and that is final!' Carl barked, pacing furiously toward his desk. 'And why do I feel my heart beating like I had just sprinted across the entire pack? Could it be adrenaline spike from the possible threat? It has to be.'

'Right.' Hunter purred mockingly. 'And was it also adrenaline when you almost reached out to wipe her tear just now? I felt your hand twitch, Carl. You want to comfort her.'

'I did NOT want to comfort her!' Carl roared aloud, slamming his bare fist into the solid oak desk. A sharp CRACK echoed through the room as the heavy wood split right down the middle.

​Carl stared down at the ruined furniture, his shoulders heaving as he gasped for air.

'Look at you,' Hunter snickered. 'Shattering furniture because a pretty, dying wolf made your chest go boom-boom. If I didn't know better, I’d think you were ready to claim her as our Luna.'

'Shut up! Just shut the hell up!' Carl snarled, sinking heavily into his leather armchair and burying his face in his hands. 'She’s leaving tomorrow. The moment she can stand on her feet, I'll have the men drive her to the nearest human town. End of story.'

'She smells like our second chance.' Hunter said softly, the playful mockery instantly vanishing from his voice, replaced by a heavy, quiet sincerity that made Carl’s stomach drop.

'There are no second chances for monsters like us, Hunter,' Carl whispered into the dark quiet of his mind, his voice cracking beneath the weight of buried grief. 'Now, leave me alone.'

​Hunter let out a low sigh, settling into the deep shadows of Carl's mind, though he couldn't resist dropping one final, biting parting shot:

'Whatever you say, Alpha. Just don't come crying to me when you drive our second chance straight to her grave.'

The silence that followed was suffocating. Carl sat frozen in his leather chair, staring at the split oak of his desk as the fading afternoon light bled through the office blinds. His pulse gradually slowed, but the phantom scent of rain and burnt sugar refused to leave his nose.

​Unable to stand the quiet, Carl stood up, grabbed his coat off the sofa, and headed back down to the infirmary wing. He told himself it was purely to enforce protocol, to ensure the guards hadn't grown soft and that the intruder hadn't miraculously recovered to launch an escape attempt.

​When he reached the medical corridor, the two guards snapped to rigid attention.

​"Alpha," one greeted, his head bowed. "Beta Chloe and Marion are still inside."

​Carl gave a curt nod and pushed open the heavy oak doors without knocking.

​Inside, the room was dimly lit by a single bedside lamp. Chloe sat on the edge of a chair, quietly holding a cup of lukewarm tea, while Marion checked an IV drip suspended beside the bed. Rexiana had fallen back into an uneasy, feverish sleep. Her face was flushed, her dark auburn hair damp and clinging to her forehead as she tossed restlessly against the pillows.

​"I thought I ordered quiet in this wing," Carl said, his deep voice hushed yet cutting as he stepped toward the bed.

​Chloe didn't bother standing. She took a slow sip of her tea, eyeing her brother with a mix of exhaustion and knowing amusement. "She’s having nightmares, Carl. The fever spiked ten minutes ago. Marion had to give her a mild sedative just to keep her wolf from thrashing and reopening her wounds."

​Carl stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He tried to keep his expression locked in ice, but his eyes betrayed him, flicking down to the way her fingers clutched weakly at the white cotton blanket, as if reaching for something to anchor her in the dark.

​"Is she stable enough to move?" Carl asked Marion, keeping his voice flat.

​Marion sighed, shaking her head as she adjusted the bandages along Rexiana's collarbone. "If you move her now, Alpha, her heart will give out. Her wolf's spirit is hanging on by a thread. Whatever happened to her out there tore through her vital energy. She needs absolute rest, and proper nutrients. Any further shock will kill her."

​"She stays," Chloe added pointedly, looking straight at her twin. "Until Marion clears her. I won't let her die on Blood Moon's lands just because you're afraid of feeling something again."

​Carl’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he glared at his sister. "I am not afraid of anything, Chloe."

​"Then prove it," Chloe challenged softly, standing up and stepping right into his space. "Let her heal properly, and stop treating this dying female like an invading army." Before Carl could issue a biting reprimand, a low, pained whimper broke from the mattress.

Every eye in the room snapped toward the bed. Rexiana thrashed weakly against the sheets, a thin sheet of feverish sweat glinting on her collarbone as a quiet sob escaped her throat. Robbed of a comeback and suffocating under the heavy silence, Carl huffed, turned sharply on his heel, and stormed out of the infirmary.

​He marched straight toward the pack's outdoor training grounds, the gravel crunching violently beneath his heavy boots.

​The real reason he had returned to the infirmary wasn't to double-check security, it was to test Hunter’s absurd claim that the lady was their second-chance mate. Though every fiber of his being rebelled against accepting it, he couldn't deny the terrifying truth: her scent of fresh rain and burnt sugar had clung to his senses, making his deadened heart beat with an agonizing, forgotten rhythm.

​When Carl reached the open ring, only a handful of warriors were still practicing under the faint yard lights. The moment they sensed his suffocating aura, they quickly and quietly backed away, keeping a cautious distance as their Alpha approached.

​Carl ripped off his shirt, tossing it onto a rack before throwing himself into a punishing string of strikes against the heavy wooden training dummies. He threw ruthless, rapid blows into the air and into the solid timber, the dense wood splintering and cracking violently under the ferocious, unbridled strength of his swings.

'Smashing wood won't change anything,' Hunter’s voice chimed in his mind, rich with smug satisfaction. 'You felt it the second you walked back into that room. She’s ours.'

'She is a without a pack!' Carl roared back in his thoughts, bringing his bare fist down with bone-crushing force. The wooden dummy cleaved completely in half, splintering into kindling as a shower of wood chips rained down around his feet. Sweat glistened across his scarred, broad chest as he stood breathing heavily in the center of the ring. 'We caused the death of our first mate, Hunter. We cannot afford another one!'

'Lie to yourself all you want,' Hunter hummed quietly, his tone shifting into absolute, unyielding dominance within their mind. 'But I won't allow you to chase her away.'

​Before Carl could snarl a bitter reply to his wolf, the sharp sound of frantic, heavy footfalls echoed across the gravel courtyard. A border sentry sprinted onto the training field, his face pale and his breathing ragged.

​"Alpha!" the sentry panted, coming to a sudden halt and dropping into a deep bow. "Border Grid Four just reported movement! A heavy patrol from Red Ridge has lined up along the neutral strip, led by Alpha Felix himself. They're demanding an audience!"

​Carl’s eyes flashed a dangerous, lethal amber. The residual bloodlust from the border skirmish surged back to the surface, suffocating the training ring in a heavy blanket of Alpha aura.

​"Felix," Carl growled, grabbing his shirt from the rack and shoving his arms through the sleeves. "He brought a patrol to my border for three missing dead beats?"

​"He's claiming Blood Moon harbored a fugitive from their allied territory," the sentry reported, trembling slightly under Carl's overwhelming pressure. "He says if we don't hand over the female who crossed into our woods, Red Ridge will treat it as an act of war."

​A dark, cold smirk tugged at the corner of Carl's lips, though inside his chest, Hunter bared his fangs with primal delight. The God of Death hadn't had a good reason to paint the border red in months.

​"Assemble the vanguard," Carl ordered, stepping past the sentry toward the perimeter gates. "And tell Chloe to double the guards at the infirmary. If Felix takes one step across my line, he won't be leaving with a head to put his crown on."