Chapter 4

The emergency room doors swung open. Derrick blocked the exit in two long strides.

"Where are her blood tests?"

The pack's head physician still wore his mask. He clutched the charts, pinned against the door by Derrick's massive build.

"Alpha... Nadia's vitals are completely normal."

Derrick stared him down, his eyes turning dangerous. "Normal? She collapsed in violent convulsions, and you tell me she's fine?"

"Her skin showed minor irritation from stinging nettle," the doctor offered the papers forward with shaking hands. "Nettle causes temporary redness and itching. Zero neurotoxins. The seizures you saw were either panic, or deliberate faking."

Deliberate faking.

A sharp pulse hammered Derrick's temples.

He had condemned Valerie over a lie. No lethal poison. Just a harmless primer herb.

The greenhouse scene crashed back into his mind.

He remembered shoving Valerie to the ground to reach Nadia.

Something heavy shattered. That was... the uncut purple wolfsbane cabinet.

Three months ago, Valerie locked that case herself. She warned him that the raw extract was lethal, strong enough to melt through an Alpha's flesh in seconds.

The door cracked open behind them. Nadia slipped out in hospital scrubs, taking a tentative step toward him.

"Derrick, I was so scared. Is Valerie mad at me? Please don't blame her..."

Derrick sidestepped her touch, not even sparing her a glance.

"Go back to your bed. I have business."

He threw the words behind him, marched out of the building, and jumped into his truck. He slammed the gas pedal to the floor.

Ten minutes later, the tires screeched to a halt outside the underground greenhouse.

He shoved the door open. A foul, burning stench hit his face.

Shattered glass covered the concrete. Snapped wolfsbane stems lay everywhere. Valerie, usually so meticulous and clean, had left without cleaning it up.

Right in the center of the blackened dirt lay a massive pool of dark blood.

Jagged glass shards stuck out of the puddle, tangled with charred strips of fabric.

It was the white shirt Valerie wore this morning.

She fell right into it.

Nobody stayed to help her.

"Valerie?!"

Derrick bolted from the greenhouse and ran straight into the main house.

The master bedroom was dead silent.

Her side of the walk-in closet was mostly empty. Her research journals, her passports, and her IDs were gone.

In the nursery, Hazel's drawing pad and backpack were nowhere in sight. Only the shattered pieces of the carved moonstone amulet remained on the dresser.

Derrick spun around and charged into his study.

Sitting right in the center of his mahogany desk was an open file.

At the top sat the blood-red seal of the Werewolf High Council.

Permanent Mate Severing and Territory Exile Agreement.

Right in the execution box sat his personal black obsidian seal, stamped beside his bold tactical signature.

It was never a medical grant.

Seven days ago, desperate to comfort Nadia, he signed away his own mate without reading a single word.

Derrick slammed his fist onto the desk. The thick wood split down the center.

That exact second, agony tore across the back of his neck.

The raw agony ripped down his spine.

His soul bond with Valerie snapped.

His inner wolf threw its head back in a raw, broken howl of agony.

Derrick ripped his collar open and lunged toward the full-length mirror.

In the mirror, the deep canine bite mark on his neck faded in the blink of an eye.

The bond holding them together for four years turned to empty air.

Derrick staggered back, slamming hard into the wardrobe. He struggled for air, his knees threatening to buckle.

She was gone.

She cut him out for good.

"Derrick? What happened..."

Nadia crept up to the doorway, eyes landing on the papers on the desk. She moved closer. "How could Valerie sign something like this? She clearly never cared about you..."

"Get out!"

Derrick lashed out. The brutal backhand threw Nadia across the hall, slamming her hard against the drywall.

Red veins flooded his eyes. He glared down at her, voice dead and venomous. "Drag her out of the main house. Revoke every single privilege for her and her son today. Send them to the outer farmlands."

Guards rushed in, hauling a pale, trembling Nadia down the stairs.

Derrick grabbed the encrypted satellite phone and dialed the intelligence wing.

"Track Valerie now. Give me her flight path in five minutes."

Frantic keyboard clicks rattled through the receiver.

Less than two minutes later, the agent spoke up, voice shaking.

"Alpha... we found it. Ms. Sterling boarded a Gulfstream G650 three hours ago. She just crossed the territory border."

"Where is she landing?!" Derrick barked.

"Her landing clearance is registered to Obsidian Ridge in Colorado," the agent hesitated, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Killian Frost's territory."

Killian Frost.

The brutal billionaire Alpha who secretly loved Valerie for ten whole years.

The phone shattered inside Derrick's fist, the glass screen crunching into pieces.

Ignoring the blood dripping from his palm, he drew his sidearm and stormed toward the hangar.

"Prepare for war. Fuel my jet."

Derrick's jaw set like iron.

"We fly to Colorado right now."