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 morning sun broke through the heavy clouds above the Blackwood training field, its golden rays scattering across the dew-covered grass. Wolves both in human and beast form moved with calculated rhythm, training, sparring, perfecting their footwork under the sharp gazes of their betas and squad captains. Yet even amid the flurry of activity, all eyes occasionally drifted to one figure at the center of it all.Alpha Eugene Blackwood.He stood tall, his powerful frame covered in sweat but far from fatigued. His dark hair was tied behind him in a simple black band, his torso bare save for the thick leather arm guards and the old claw mark that slashed diagonally across his chest—a reminder of the wars of old. His piercing eyes scanned the training ground with the quiet authority of a man who had long mastered dominance.Today, he had already defeated three ranked wolves in training. Not injured them—defeated them. With terrifying precision, he had dodged, countered, and subdued e
The silence in Eugene’s hallway had been broken by the sound of Ava’s hand slicing through the air.But it never landed.Mira had caught Ava’s wrist mid-air, her fingers tightening like steel around it. The look on her face wasn’t one of shock or fear—it was something far colder. Steady. Controlled.Ava’s breath hitched, more from surprise than pain, as her hand hovered between them, frozen in Mira’s grip.Mira’s eyes bored into Ava’s with a piercing calmness. “Don’t do that,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet.Ava pulled her hand, but Mira held on a second longer, forcing Ava to hear her.“You’re not going to slap me. Not now, not ever. I’m done letting you think you can touch me or talk down to me like I don’t matter.”The hallway dimmed slightly as clouds passed over the skylight above them, casting long shadows along the floor. Ava’s mouth opened—no words came. The air between them crackled.Mira slowly released Ava’s hand and stepped back, her shoulders squaring, chin li
The hallway outside Alpha Eugene’s study stretched endlessly, cloaked in golden afternoon light spilling through towering windows. But Mira didn’t notice the beauty. She wasn’t admiring the rose gardens blooming in neat rows below, or the distant sound of laughter from the training field. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her stomach, as if holding herself together was the only thing keeping her from shattering. She stood by the third window from the left, her back straight against the cool wall, her breathing shallow.She had been waiting for thirty-seven minutes.Becca had gone into Alpha Eugene’s study to request those three maids br transferred to her.The word echoed again in her mind, a cavern of ache where his presence had once lived.Mira didn’t like waiting, especially when she was all alone. Especially when the silence left room for memories—ones she had buried deep inside her chest. And one had just exploded.Jack’s voice.The memories of what had happened in the gard
Becca’s shoes tapped softly against the polished wooden floor, echoing down the corridor like a countdown she didn’t want to reach the end of. She didn't want to go.Every part of her screamed against it. But she had to. For them.A guard stationed at the study door dipped his head respectfully. “Luna Becca.”She forced a tight smile. “Is he inside?”“Yes, Luna. He’s been in there for hours.”Of course he had. She took a breath and knocked.No answer.She knocked again.Still silence.Finally, her hand closed around the handle, and she pushed open the heavy oak door without waiting for an invitation.The scent of warm cedarwood and spiced parchment greeted her first—Eugene’s scent. It was rich, masculine, enticing and familiar.He sat behind a broad desk of books and scrolls piled around him.A single glass of whiskey sat untouched near his hand. His head was bent as he read something, his eyes scanning the page with furrowed brows. He looked… tired. But still powerful. Still u
Becca walked briskly down the corridor, her shoes clicking against the stone floor, each step echoing with the weight of her fury. Her wrist still throbbed where Eugene had gripped her, the skin reddened as if marked by ownership. But it wasn’t just the pain that burned.It was the humiliation.The audacity.She could still hear the way his voice had snapped, commanding her like she was nothing more than a servant under his authority. Her jaw clenched at the memory."Who does he think he is?" she thought bitterly. "Grabbing me like that? Ordering me around like I’m some slave to his will?"Her hands tightened into fists at her sides as she turned the final corridor toward the infirmary. And as much as she hated herself for even thinking it—a deeper question gnawed at her gut like a parasite.What were Eugene and Seraphina talking about?He had walked out of the Seraphina's quarters like a man possessed, shadowed, and haunted. There had been something in his eyes. Something hollow
Eugene stepped out of Seraphina’s quarters, and the moment the heavy door clicked shut behind him, it felt like a shroud had been lifted from his shoulders. The air was colder out here, freer, but the pressure in his chest remained.His steps were slow, almost unsteady, as he moved down the stone corridor. There was something about Seraphina’s presence—seductive and venomous—that clung to the skin long after she was gone.His mind reeled from everything she had said. He paused at the base of a towering marble column, exhaling hard. The hallway ahead curved slightly, but something in the air shifted, sharpening his senses.Voices.He looked up—and froze.Standing just a few paces away, near the broad arch that led into the inner courtyard, were Max and Becca.Max’s hands were tucked into the pockets of his dark jacket, his expression unreadable as always. But Becca’s arms were folded across her chest, and her mouth was tight with frustration. Her brows were furrowed, lips pursed l