Se connecter
Reylap's POV
“State your business!”
The guard’s voice rang out through the drizzle just as I stepped up to the gates of Dark Moors Pack, and for a second, I genuinely thought he was joking.
I stood there dripping from a miserable six-hour ride, mud clinging to the hem of my coat while my medical bag dug into my shoulder, and stared at him in disbelief.
Then I lifted the folded summons from my coat pocket and waved it once. “I came to decorate your gate. What does it look like?”
His expression flattened.The second guard snorted under his breath, quickly covering it with a cough.
“I’m Reylap Stark,” I said, slipping the paper back into my pocket. “Your Alpha requested a healer. Unless someone suddenly learned surgery overnight, I suggest you let me through.”
The first guard’s jaw tightened slightly at my tone.
“We were told a healer was coming,” he said carefully. “No one mentioned your name.”
“You summoned me.”
Neither guard moved.
A chill settled in my stomach. Healers were supposed to be welcomed, respected, and escorted straight to the patients, and allowed to leave once the work was done. That was how it had always been. That was what the summons had promised.
What's going on?
I’d dealt with suspicious packs before. Territorial Alphas. Arrogant betas. Idiots who thought healers were servants with herbs instead of people who literally kept their wolves breathing, but this felt different.
The second guard finally stepped aside. “You can enter.”
There was no apology, no urgency despite the desperate tone of the summons.
That alone told me something was wrong.
Most packs practically dragged healers toward the infirmary the moment they arrived. Injured wolves meant panic, noise, frantic relatives crowding the halls. But as I walked deeper into Dark Moors, the only thing waiting for me was silence.
By the time I reached the healer’s wing, my nerves were stretched thin enough to snap.
I knocked twice. Nothing. A hand closed around my arm before I could try a third time.
"The elders will see you now."
I turned to see a guard, already steering me away from the door before I'd even agreed to move. "I was brought here for patients," I said, pulling slightly against his grip. "Not elders.”
He didn't bother responding as he just kept walking.
We were halfway down the corridor when I saw another healer, bag over her shoulder, being walked in the exact direction I'd just been pulled from.
My feet stopped moving on their own. "Why is she going to my patients?"
"Keep moving."
"Those are my patients —"
"Move.”
The word landed and something in my chest tightened instantly.
So this wasn’t a misunderstanding. I hadn’t been brought here to treat anyone at all—at least, not in the way I had been told.
Then why bring me here?
My thoughts snagged, pulling tight. Tonight was my mating ceremony. Malik would be waiting. Whatever this was, it needed to end quickly. I needed to be out of here before sundown.
But when the guard pushed open the elders' chamber door and I stepped inside, that thought dissolved completely.
The room was too full — and not one face in it looked surprised to see me.
I stepped inside and didn't bother with pleasantries. "I was summoned to treat patients. I need access to them now."
"You will not be given access," an elder said. "Yet."
I let that word sit for a second. "Yet," I repeated. "What does that mean?"
"Circumstances have changed."
"What circumstances?" I looked around the room and realized with a cold drop in my stomach that nobody would meet my eyes. “You know, this would all feel significantly less suspicious if someone actually explained what the hell is going on.”
The first elder finally looked at me. "You are not trusted here."
For a second, I genuinely thought I misheard him.
A short laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “I’m sorry— what?”
No one laughed with me.
Not trusted? For a healer they’d summoned?
The words hit strangely hard, mostly because they made no sense. Healers were called when packs were desperate. People trusted us with their lives before they trusted us with their secrets.
“There’s clearly been a misunderstanding,” I said, more carefully this time.
“There has already been a report from your pack,” the elder replied.
That got my full attention.
“My pack?” I repeated. “What report?”
The second elder’s expression darkened slightly. “An elder from Emerald Diamond Pack died under your care.”
My heartbeat stuttered once. No! No!
“The cause of death was confirmed as wolfsbane poisoning.”
The room seemed to tilt slightly around me.
For one disorienting second, I couldn’t even process the sentence properly because it sounded too absurd to be real.
Wolfsbane?
My mind immediately rejected it.
"I — wolfsbane?" The word stumbled out of me like I couldn't quite hold it.
"No. I've never — that's not —" I stopped, pressed my lips together, forced myself to breathe. "I have never prescribed it, never stored it, never so much as looked at it sideways my entire career. I—*
"Your pack's report says otherwise."
Heat rushed up my throat so fast it embarrassed me, the kind that stung behind the eyes and made everything feel suddenly, humiliatingly close to the surface. "Then your— my— report," I said, and my voice cracked slightly on the last word before I caught it, "is wrong.”
I took a breath, trying to pull myself back together. No, I can't lose it. I had a ceremony to get back to — a dress hanging in my chamber, a mate waiting, a whole life about to begin — and I was not going to let this unravel me in a room full of strangers. "I was the lead healer on that case," I said, steadier now. "My pack would never confirm something like that without speaking to me first. So whatever that report says, someone is lying."
"Then why was she the last person to touch him?" a voice called from the side of the room.
I turned toward it. "Because I was assigned to his treatment. That's how healing works. Being last in a room doesn't make me a murderer."
"That's not what the report says.”
"Then show me the report." My voice came out harder than I intended but I didn't take it back. "If there's evidence against me, show me. I have a right to see it.”
The elder’s face hardened. “You will not be given access.”
And just like that, the last fragile thread of my composure snapped.
“Are you insane?” I demanded, my voice rising before I could stop it. “You drag me across territories under emergency summons, accuse me of murder the second I arrive, refuse to show me evidence, refuse to let me defend myself, and somehow I’m expected to stand here quietly while you decide whether I’m guilty?”
The second elder frowned. “Mind your tone.”
“My tone?” I laughed again. “You accuse me of poisoning an elder before I even step inside your infirmary, and my tone is the issue?I want to speak to whoever filed that report,"
"That won't be necessary."
My breath caught. I pressed my thumbnail hard into my palm because my hands had started trembling and I refused — absolutely refused — to let this room see that. "I'm sorry," I said slowly, "what did you just say to me?"
"That won't be necessary."
A bead of sweat tracked down the back of my neck. My heart was doing something awful and fast inside my chest and no matter how hard I pressed my nails into my skin I couldn't stop the slight dampness gathering at my hairline.
They weren't going to let me speak to anyone. They weren't going to show me anything. This was not an inquiry, this was already a verdict.
Malik.The thought of him, made my heart race. Malik would fix this.
"Then I'm leaving," I said.
"That may be best."
I spun on my heel and stormed out, my blood boiling. The heavy doors thudded shut behind me.
Outside, the cold air felt different and filled with suspicion. Conversations died instantly as I passed. Eyes followed me openly now—no more pretending. Great. I’d gone from unwelcome guest to public enemy in under an hour.
That was when I spotted Gaia. The little girl I’d treated for a brutal fever months ago.She was standing near the side courtyard and the moment our eyes met she took one instinctive step backward.
That step hurt more than anything the elders had said.
"Gaia." I stopped and crouched to her level, keeping my voice soft. "It's me. You remember me, don't you?"
She flinched hard.
“Hey, it’s me,” I said, lowering myself to her eye level with a small, hopefully reassuring smile. “The one who made the yucky medicine taste like berries, remember? I don’t bite. Promise.”
She hesitated, then gave a tiny nod, but her little hands stayed clenched at her sides.
I kept my tone light, even as my anger simmered. “Why’s everyone looking at me like I grew a second head? Come on, you can tell me. I thought we were friends.”
She glanced around nervously before whispering, “They said you killed someone.”
The ground shifted slightly under my feet. "That's not true."
"They said you poisoned an elder." Her eyes were wide and earnest and devastatingly honest. "People from your pack came yesterday and told everyone.”
Yesterday??
God. The trap had already snapped shut before I even crossed the border. who the hell would do this to me?
I forced a breath, standing up.“Thank you for telling me the truth, kid. That took guts.”
She looked up at me, worried. “Are you in trouble?”
“I… don’t know yet.” My attempt at a reassuring smile probably looked more like a grimace.
She chewed her lip. "Did you do it?"
I crouched back down to her level and waited until she had no choice but to look at me. "No," I said, quietly but without a single waver in it. "I didn't. And I am going to prove it.”
She studied me for a long moment, then looked away immediately.
"Don't let her leave."
The voice came from somewhere behind me and I turned just in time to see three guards cutting across the courtyard with a focus that made my stomach drop.
"She goes nowhere without escort," one of them said. They were moving with the calm certainty of men who had been given very specific instructions about a very specific person. "Alpha's orders."
"Which alpha?" I demanded.
No answer.
"Get your hands off —" I started, but one of them already had my arm and the words died in my throat because this was real, this was actually happening, and no amount of credentials or summons letters or eight years of healing this pack's wounded was going to matter in the next thirty seconds.
"Get your hands off me," I repeated, twisting against their grip. "I am a healer —”
" No one cares about that." The guard's grip tightened on my arm, steering me forward without breaking stride.
"You murdered someone. You're being returned to Emerald Diamond Pack tonight, and honestly?" He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice."You should be thanking us. Most packs don't escort murderers. They cage them.”
Reylap’s POVThe sharp, rhythmic rapping against the bedroom door cut through the haze of my sleep like a blade. I bolted upright, my heart hammering against my ribs, the instinct to flee still raw and jagged in my chest. "Elliott?" I hissed, clutching the duvet to my collarbone.Elliott groaned, his large frame shifting beside me. He looked at the door, then back at me, his eyes softening despite the intrusion. "It’s just one of the guards, Reylap. Relax.""Don't open it," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Not while I'm here. Please."The knocking came again, louder this time. "Alpha? We have news regarding the visitor."Elliott sat up, his bare shoulders bronzing in the morning light. Instead of reaching for his shirt to hide me, he reached for my hand. "I’m not hiding you anymore. I’m going to open that door, and I’m going to show them exactly who you are to me.""No!" I scrambled back toward the headboard, my eyes wide. "Elliott, look at me. My hair is a mess, I’m wearing your ov
Reylap’s POVI stared at the half-empty pickle jar in my hand, the brine sloshing slightly as my fingers trembled. The air in the kitchen was thick, charged with the confession Elliott had just laid bare between us. My heart felt like a bird trapped in a cage, fluttering against my ribs with a frantic, hopeful rhythm. I looked up at him, my eyes burning with the remnants of the tears I’d shed only moments ago. "Is this really it, then?" I asked, my voice cracking before I forced a dry, half-jesting tone into it. "Is this what you imagined when you thought about acknowledging the bond? Be honest with me, Elliott."He didn't move from his position between my knees. His hands remained braced on the counter, caging me in, but it didn't feel like a prison. It felt like an anchor. "What do you mean?""The glamour of the Alpha's mate," I said, gesturing vaguely with a pickle spear. "Did you imagine the middle-of-the-night emergencies? The 3:00 AM pickle raids? Did you picture a woman who cr
Reylap’s POV"I need pickles," I said, my voice cutting through the heavy silence of the bedroom.Eliott groaned, the sound muffled by his pillow. He shifted beside me, the heat of his body a sharp contrast to the chill in the air. "Reylap? It’s three in the morning. Are you okay? Is the baby kicking again?""The baby is fine. The baby wants vinegar and crunch," I insisted, propping myself up on my elbows. My back ached, and my stomach felt like a lead weight, but the craving was a physical itch I couldn't scratch. "Please, Eliott. The big jar. The ones with the garlic cloves at the bottom."He sat up slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. His hair was a chaotic nest of dark strands, and he looked entirely disoriented. "Pickles. At three. Right. Okay.""You don't have to," I said, though my eyes were wide and pleading."No, I’m going," he muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He was half-dressed, wearing only his lounge pants, his bare torso glowing faintly in the m
Elliott’s POVThe warmth of her skin under my palm felt like a brand, a heavy, tethering weight that made my wolf purr with a dangerous kind of contentment. Underneath my hand, the pup kicked again—a sharp, rhythmic thud against my palm. My heart stuttered. It wasn’t my blood. It wasn't my legacy. But in the quiet of the study, with the scent of old parchment and Reylap’s lavender soap surrounding us, that distinction felt thinner than it ever had before.I started to pull my hand away, my fingers twitching as I forced myself to break the contact. "I should let you get some actual rest, Reylap," I said, my voice sounding more strained than I intended.Her hand instantly clamped over mine, pinning it back against the swell of her stomach. "No," she whispered, her eyes wide and pleading in the dim light. "Don't leave yet. Just stay close. Please.""Rey," I said, trying to maintain a shred of discipline. "If you stay curled up on this study couch until morning, you’re going to wake up ve
Elliott's POV The halogen lamp on my desk hummed, a low-frequency buzz that grated against my ears as I flipped through the land deeds. The scents of old parchment and printer ink filled the air, mixing with the cooling mountain breeze drifting through the open window. We needed more territory, not for hunting, but for survival in a world that was rapidly encroaching on our borders. "Borders won't matter if we can't feed the lower ranks during the winter," I muttered to the empty room, my thumb tracing the agricultural yield projections for the northern valley. The neighboring packs—the Silver Glade and the Iron Peak—were hesitant. They were old school, obsessed with territory lines and ancestral burial grounds. I needed a way to convince them that a joint business venture, a massive scale-up of farming and land acquisition, was the only way to keep the humans from buying it all up first. A floorboard creaked in the hallway. I didn't look up, my nose catching the scent of van
Reylap's POV "Yellow is not a neutral, Reylap. It’s an assault on the senses," Eliott said, his voice echoing against the bare floorboards of the nursery. He held the lid of the paint can between two fingers like it was a piece of evidence from a crime scene.I leaned back against the doorframe of the spare room he’d cleared out for me weeks ago, crossing my arms over the slight but firm curve of my stomach. "It’s not 'assault yellow.' Camille called it 'Summer Harvest.' It’s warm. It’s cheerful. It doesn't look like the inside of a sterile pack clinic, which is clearly what you’re gunning for with that depressing slate grey.""Grey is sophisticated," he countered, though his gaze softened as it drifted toward my waist. "And Camille has questionable taste in decor. She once tried to convince the Council that neon orange was the color of 'authority'.""She was right about the yellow," I insisted, stepping into the room. "The sunlight hits this corner in the morning. If we paint it you
“No." Farida’s smile thinned slightly. “I said, kneel.”I looked at her slowly, exhaustion twisting inside me so violently I almost started laughing again. “You stole my ceremony, my mate, my title, and now you want my dignity too?” I tilted my head. “Greedy.”A sharp murmur spread through the roo
Elliott's POVI let the muttering fill the air, a low, dangerous hum that grated against my nerves. My jaw was locked so tight I felt the ache all the way to my ears. They talked in whispers, in hushed, cruel tones, but every word clawed at me. “Rogue.” “Danger.” “Outsider.” All aimed at her. All
Reylap's POV The scent of roasting meat and simmering herbs hung heavy in the kitchen, a welcome distraction from the persistent knot of anxiety in my stomach. Anna, the head maid, a wiry woman with eyes that missed nothing, had just finished her morning rounds. I kept my head down, focusing on
Reylap’s POVI heard the music before I even reached the gates, and I knew it was a celebration. I could hear drums and voices and that particular kind of joy that carries across pack grounds when there's good news, and for one foolish, breathless second my heart lifted, because I thought it was fo







