Chapter 3

Three weeks passed at Haven House.

Elena scrubbed the clinic's floors on her hands and knees, her wrists raw from the harsh soap. The work was familiar, comforting, even. Dr. Thomas had given her a cot in the back room and a steady supply of meals, but she refused to be a burden. She woke before dawn, mopped the waiting room, organized the supply cabinets, and sterilized the surgical instruments.

Thomas watched her with a knowing eye.

"You don't have to earn your keep, child," he said one morning, handing her a cup of bitter tea. "You're healing. That takes time."

"I need to keep busy," Elena replied. "If I stop, I think about him."

Thomas didn't ask who "he" was. He didn't have to. The mating mark on Elena's neck still pulsed with a faint silver glow, visible even beneath the scarf she wore. Every night, she woke in a cold sweat, Kaelen's voice echoing in her skull.

I'm coming, little wolf. I'm coming.

But the scent-blocker Thomas had given her seemed to work. The bond remained distant, muffled, like a conversation heard through thick walls. She hadn't felt Kaelen's presence in days.

Maybe he had given up. Maybe he had found another mate.

No. He'll never give up. He's a hunter. And hunters don't quit.

Elena pushed the thought aside and focused on her work. She shadowed Thomas during his consultations, watching him treat rogues, exiles, and deserters who passed through Haven's Edge. She learned how to suture deep gashes, how to set broken bones, how to identify venom from the Northern swamp snakes.

"You have steady hands," Thomas observed one evening, nodding at her neat stitches. "Sharp mind. Quick learner. Where'd you learn?"

"I watched a lot," Elena said quietly. "Back in my pack."

"Silvermoon?"

She stiffened but didn't answer. Thomas didn't push.

On the forty-fifth day, Elena woke up vomiting.

She stumbled to the bathroom, her stomach heaving, her skin clammy with cold sweat. At first, she thought it was food poisoning. Then she thought it was stress. Then she counted the forty-five days since the cave. Forty-five days since the Lycan King had claimed her under the light of the midnight moon.

No. No, no, no.

Her palm pressed against her belly, flat and unremarkable. But her wolf stirred, curling inside her chest with something that felt like pride?

There's life in there. His life. Yours. Ours.

Elena took three different pregnancy tests from the clinic's supply. All of them turned positive within seconds.

She sat on the bathroom floor, clutching the plastic sticks, her mind spinning into chaos. A child. She was carrying a Lycan's child. A royal Lycan's child. The heir to a monster's throne.

He'll come for me. He'll take my baby. He'll—

"Elena?" Thomas knocked on the door. "You've been in there a long time. Are you alright?"

She opened the door with shaking hands. Thomas took one look at her face, at the tests in her grip, and his expression softened with understanding.

"Oh, child," he murmured. "Come with me."

He led her to his private office and sat her down in his worn leather chair. He poured her a glass of water and waited until her breathing steadied.

"Who was the father?" he asked gently.

Elena opened her mouth and couldn't speak. How could she tell him? A Lycan King. A masked stranger who had bonded her in a feral heat. A monster who had been hunting her for six weeks.

Thomas took her silence as grief. He didn't push.

"Alright," he said. "Let's run some blood work. We need to make sure the baby is healthy."

He drew a vial of her blood and left her alone in the office. Elena stared at the wall, her hand pressed against her stomach, her heart racing.

I'm going to be a mother. How can I be a mother? I can barely keep myself alive.

Thomas returned an hour later. His face was pale, his hands trembling slightly as he held the lab results.

"Elena," he said slowly, "there's something you need to know."

Her stomach dropped. "Is the baby—"

"The baby is fine. Both of them are."

Both.

Elena's vision blurred. "Two?"

Thomas nodded, his expression grim. "Twins. A boy and a girl. But—" He paused, running a hand through his gray beard. "I found something else in your blood. Something I haven't seen in thirty years."

He pulled out a worn medical journal, flipping to a page marked with a dog-eared corner. The illustration showed a fetus with two overlapping spirals in its chest: one wolf, one Lycan.

"This is called Silver Sickness," he said quietly. "It happens when a standard werewolf and a royal Lycan produce offspring. The two bloodlines are incompatible. They fight each other. The child's body becomes a battlefield."

Elena stared at the illustration, her blood turning to ice. "What does that mean?"

"It means that without a cure, your twins will develop a violent magical sickness. It starts with seizures. Silver veins glowing beneath their skin. Their wolves will tear themselves apart trying to reconcile the two bloodlines."

"Can you cure it?"

Thomas shook his head slowly. "The only known remedy is stored in the Royal Lycan Citadel's forbidden archives. It requires a specific compound derived from a Lycan King's blood and an Ancient Alpha's blood, combined under a Blood Moon."

The Royal Lycan Citadel. Kaelen's fortress. The very monster she had been running from.

"There has to be another way," she whispered.

"There isn't." Thomas's voice was heavy with regret. "And the symptoms will start showing by the time they're four. You have until then to find a way in or to find someone strong enough to demand access."

Elena looked down at her belly. Two tiny heartbeats, two tiny souls, depending on her.

She had spent her whole life running. Running from Garret. Running from Brandon. Running from the Lycan King.

Now she had to stop running. She had to find the courage to fight.

"How do I get into the Citadel?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Thomas leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. "There's a medical summit in Silvermoon territory next month. High-paying contracts for elite physicians. If you can get in, you can access their library. They might have copies of the archives. Or at least a lead."

Silvermoon. Alpha Brandon's territory.

Elena's stomach turned. "I can't go back there. He'll kill me."

"He doesn't know who you are anymore," Thomas said gently. "You're not the omega he rejected. You're a skilled rogue physician with months of experience. Wear a disguise. Use a false name. Get in, get the information, get out."

She stared at her reflection in the window. Gaunt cheeks. Dark hair. Eyes that had seen too much. She didn't recognize the woman staring back.

But that woman was a mother now. And mothers didn't have the luxury of fear.

"Fine," she said. "I'll go."

Thomas nodded, a sad smile crossing his face. "I'll help you prepare. But Elena—" He paused, his eyes meeting hers with fierce intensity. "You need to understand something. The Lycan King isn't going to stop hunting you. That bond you share is unbreakable. Eventually, he'll find you."

Elena touched the mark on her neck. It pulsed warm against her fingertips.

"Then I'll be ready when he does," she said.

But even as she spoke, she felt a tremor run through the bond. Distant, muffled, but unmistakable.

He's still coming. He's getting closer.

Elena pressed her hand to her belly and made a silent promise to the two tiny lives growing inside her.

I'll protect you. I'll find the cure. And I'll never let him take you.

The bond pulsed again, hotter this time, more urgent.

I'll find you, little wolf. I'll find you all.

Elena shivered.

Time was running out.