Becca gritted her teeth as she half-dragged, half-carried the unconscious man inside her clinic.
He was much heavier than she had expected, his body packed with thick muscle beneath the robes he wore. Her arms ached, but she didn’t stop—not when his fevered skin burned against hers, not when she felt the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. Without hesitation, she put him onto her table. As she attempted to remove his clothes, a scent drifted toward her—faint but unmistakable. Her entire body froze. No… That scent. It was familiar. Too familiar. Her stomach twisted violently, nausea rising in her throat. It smelled like him. Like Alpha Desmond. A scent she had spent months trying to forget. A scent that haunted her nightmares. A scent that had once made her heart race with longing, only to now make her sick with anger. She stumbled back, her breath shallow. Was it him? Had Desmond come here in disguise? Had he—? No. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to think rationally. The scent was similar, but not identical. Desmond’s scent had been sharper, filled with authority and arrogance. This man’s scent was… different. More rugged. Worn down by pain and exhaustion. Still, her hands trembled as she reached for his hood. She needed to see his face. She hesitated for a brief moment, then pulled the hood down. Her breath hitched. The man was stunning. Even in unconsciousness, his features were sharp—his jaw strong, his lips full, his dark lashes long against his pale skin. His short, dark hair was filled with sweat, strands sticking to his forehead. He was maybe a warrior because his body was sculpted with power, each muscle defined even beneath the injuries. Becca shook herself. Focus. She pulled the rest of the robe away, revealing the true extent of his wounds. Her eyes widened at the deep injury across his side. The wound was swollen, the flesh surrounding it turning an unnatural shade of purple. Poison. Her instincts kicked in. She grabbed her medical supplies—a sharp knife, clean bandages, herbal paste, and a vial of antidote she had prepared for venomous wounds. Without wasting time, she cut away his clothes around the injury, exposing the infected area. Her fingers moved quickly, her training taking over as she carefully cleaned the wound. She ground a mixture of healing herbs, pressing the paste into the open cut before injecting the antidote into his bloodstream. The poison would have killed him within hours if she had not acted. But now, he would live. She was sure of it. Just as Becca was finishing her work, the clinic door creaked open. “Becca, I’m so sorry!” Becca clenched her jaw. Mira. Her assistant was late. Again. Mira rushed inside, her breathless voice filling the room. She was a few years younger than Becca and had a habit of running late. Becca shot her a glare. “Mira, do you even understand what ‘being on time’ means?” Mira winced. “I know, I know! But listen, I had a really good reason this time—” “No excuse,” Becca snapped, wiping her bloodied hands on a cloth. “What if I had needed your help with a patient?” Mira’s gaze drifted past Becca to the unconscious man on the table. Her eyes widened. “Bless the moon, who is that?!” She exclaimed. Becca exhaled, exhaustion creeping into her bones. “I don’t know.” Mira stepped closer, examining him with wide eyes. “Okay, but… where did he come from? He’s—wow. He’s ridiculously handsome.” Becca rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mira, very helpful observation.” Mira ignored her sarcasm. “He’s injured. How did this happen?” “I found him outside,” Becca muttered, rubbing her temples. “He collapsed. I couldn’t just leave him there.” Mira’s excitement disappeared, replaced by unease. “Becca… what if he’s from a rival pack?” Becca crossed her arms. “I don’t care where he’s from.” Mira gaped. “You should care! What if he’s dangerous?” Becca’s voice hardened. “I don’t pick and choose who I heal, Mira. If someone is hurt, I help them.” Mira chewed on her lip, clearly unconvinced. “I just think we should be careful. What if—” A loud bang on the clinic door made them both jump. The door burst open. Five men stormed inside. Becca’s stomach sank. Guards. They wore the dark armor of the pack’s enforcers, their expressions cold and unyielding. Becca straightened her spine. “If you’ve come to demand more taxes, tell Alpha Desmond I have nothing left to give.” The tallest guard smirked. “We’re not here for taxes.” Becca’s brow furrowed. “Then why are you here?” The guard stepped forward, his presence suffocating. “By the order of Alpha Desmond, you are under arrest.” Becca blinked. “What?” Mira gasped. “Wait—what do you mean? She hasn’t done anything wrong!” The guard ignored her, grabbing Becca’s arm. Becca pulled herself free. “Tell me why I’m being arrested" she demanded. The guards didn’t answer. Instead, they sneered. “Why should an Omega question us?” “Rejected by an Alpha and still thinks she matters.” “Pathetic.” Anger flared inside Becca. “If you don’t give me a reason, I’m not going anywhere.” The lead guard grabbed her wrist harshly, pulling her toward the door. “You don’t have a choice.” Mira lunged forward, trying to remove the guard off. “Leave her alone!” Another guard seized Mira by the arm. Mira kicked and struggled. “Let go of me!” Becca fought against her captor, her voice sharp. “Why are you taking her?” The guard chuckled. “You were talking too much. Thought you could use some company in the dungeons.” Becca’s heart pounded. “Dungeons?” Panic clawed at her throat. Then— One of the guards noticed the unconscious man on the table. His expression changed instantly. “What the hell—?” he took another look at Becca. "You're in even bigger trouble." The lead guard narrowed his eyes. “Take him too.” Becca’s stomach dropped. “No!” She stepped protectively in front of the injured man, her instincts screaming. The guard shoved her aside. She crashed against the wall, pain exploding through her shoulder. Before she could recover, two guards lifted the unconscious man from the table. Becca’s breath caught. She didn’t even know who he was. And now… They were all being taken. As the guards dragged her, Mira, and the stranger out of the clinic, Becca’s mind raced. What did Alpha Desmond want with her? And who the hell was the man she had just saved?The sun blazed warmly over the courtyard of Blackwood mansion. Mira stood among the laundry maids, her sleeves rolled to her elbows, hands working as she helped peg down the corners of Becca’s bed linens. Though she was not required to join such work, she found the rhythm of it calming, her heart unburdened for the first time in days. She lifted one of the sheets with another maid, shaking it out before they pinned it securely to the rope. The scent of sun-dried cotton mingled with the chatter of the maids. They spoke in hushed tones, mostly about Becca, about her beauty, her kindness, and her recent kidnap. Some whispered about the tension between Becca and Alpha Eugene, others speculated on whether their bond would survive the storm of whispers that spread through the pack. Mira kept silent at first, her lips pressed into a thin line. She had no wish to fuel gossip, but inside her chest, a thought pulsed, persistent and sharp. If only Becca would soften toward Eugene, if o
Ava’s posture was rigid, her arms folded across her chest, eyes gleaming. Seraphina, calm but no less sharp, stood with her hands on her stomach, her expression unreadable yet her aura carrying the weight of unspoken words. “You know this isn’t right, Alpha Eugene,” Ava’s voice broke the silence first. “Brian shouldn’t be here.” Max’s head snapped toward her. “Not right? He kidnapped Becca. He and his dogs dragged her away like prey. Don’t stand here and act like he’s some misunderstood wolf nursing a broken heart.” “I didn’t say he was innocent,” Ava countered, her eyes flashing with frustration. “But Alpha Eugene, you destroyed his pack. You wiped them out as though their lives were insignificant and now you expect him to sit quietly without lashing out?” Eugene’s jaw clenched, his silence heavy. He met Ava’s gaze briefly before shifting it to Seraphina, whose calm eyes were no less accusing. Seraphina spoke, her voice low and deliberate. “She’s right. The pack are watching
Alpha Brian sat on the floor, his back pressed against the wall of his cell, shackles biting into his wrists. Brian closed his eyes, fury swirling inside him like a storm that refused to calm. He could see her face again, Becca’s, that cursed, wretched woman. The memory of last night gnawed at him. His men had dragged her to him, helpless in the woods, and he had hesitated. He could have ended it all in that single moment. He ground his teeth. "Why didn’t I kill her?" Hatred coursed through Brian’s veins, hot and blinding. He wanted to rip Eugene apart piece by piece. He wanted to see Becca suffer, to watch her break under the same torment he endured. He wanted their pack, their whole wretched pack, to burn until nothing remained but ash. The creak of metal jolted him from his thoughts. The dungeon door groaned open. Heavy footsteps echoed across the stone floor, reverberating through the silence. The rogues stirred, some hissing insults, others falling into nervous quiet.
The morning air carried the smell of steel as Eugene walked across the stone courtyard with Max at his side. He had tried to forget about last night with Becca but it was a battle he kept loosing. He exhaled through his nose, jaw tight, shoulders rolling with tension. His shoes clicked against the ground, the rhythm sharp, almost angry. Max kept pace beside him, his expression calm but observant. He knew Eugene’s moods as though they were his own. “Brian and the other rogues still aren’t talking,” Max said, his tone serious, though his eyes flickered sideways to measure Eugene’s silence. “We’ve tried every method short of force. They just sit there. None of them give a damn about their lives, apparently.” Eugene grunted but didn’t answer. Max continued. “It’s strange, though. They’re too calm for men who know they’ll be executed if they don’t cooperate. Makes me think they’re waiting for something or someone.” Eugene’s brows knit, but his mind drifted back to the image of Bec
The morning sun crept through the tall windows of Becca’s chamber, golden beams slipping past the velvet drapes to rest upon the floor. The mansion walls were silent save for the distant sound of hooves in the courtyard and the faint clink of armor as guards changed shifts. Becca sat on the cushioned bench by the window, her knees tucked to her chest, chin resting upon them. Her hair, tangled from a restless night, fell around her face like a dark veil. Her eyes were fixed outside, but her thoughts were miles away, turning endlessly, dragging her back into the moment that had shattered her composure. The words still rang in her ears like the echo of a slap. The memory replayed in brutal detail: the way his face tightened, how the storm gathered in his eyes, his jaw grinding as though he had to swallow down words too heavy to say. And then, just like that, he had left her chamber. The door had closed behind him, not with a slam, but with that quiet, heavy finality that cut dee
The forest was finally behind them. The night air, thick with the stench of blood, sweat, and the lingering growls of defeated rogues, gave way to the heavy silence of the mansion’s courtyard. Guards hurried ahead with torches, their boots striking stone as they dragged Alpha Brian and his surviving rogues in chains. Becca walked at the center of the group, Mira’s arm wrapped protectively around her. Brian’s guttural voice tore through the night as the guards shoved him forward. “You’ll regret this, Eugene! You think this is victory?!” His words were venom, spitting rage. “I’ll see both of you pay for what your unstable wolf did to my people!” The sound of his hatred clawed into Becca’s mind. Her steps faltered, and instinctively she tightened her grip on Mira’s sleeve, her knuckles white. Mira glanced down, instantly noticing. “Don’t listen to him. He’s trying to unnerve you. You’re safe now.” Becca swallowed hard, nodding, though her body still leaned into Mira as though he