WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?

Tyra's POV

I flinched when Alaric's head suddenly snapped back toward me, his eyes going straight to the guard lying between us. 

His brows furrowed, and for a long moment, he didn't say anything at all. He just tilted his head slightly, the way I had seen wolves do when they caught a sound too faint for human ears.

"What happened?" he asked finally, his voice sharp with surprise. "His heartbeat just stabilized, and now it's getting stronger."

I stared down at my palms. They were sticky and red and perfectly ordinary.

"I… I don't know," I whispered, fear, denial, and confusion tearing at me all at once until I couldn't tell which one was winning.

I flexed my fingers slowly, but there was no warmth or tingling left in them, nothing at all to prove that I hadn't imagined the whole thing. 

“Goddess, your mind’s just playing tricks on you because of the trauma,” I thought to myself. 

I had just been kidnapped by suspected cultists, strung up in a net and almost murdered, watched a man die in front of me, and knelt in another man's blood. 

Shock did strange things to the brain. It made people see and feel things that weren't real, and I had read enough studies to know exactly how unreliable a frightened mind could be.

But as my heart was pounding, I could have sworn something was beating along with it beneath my collarbone.

Footsteps crashed through the brush, and two men in the black uniforms of the pack patrol burst into the clearing with their weapons drawn. 

Both of them skidded to a stop when they saw the twins, and then their eyes dropped to the bodies on the ground and the blood soaking the leaves.

"Alpha," one of them breathed, his face going pale. "We heard the howl and came as fast as we could."

"Sweep the woods," Alaric ordered, taking charge even though he didn’t lose his defensive stance. "There are probably more of them out there, and they may come back with backup.”

“Bring the dead one back to the estate,” Osric added, his eyes still sweeping the surroundings. “And don't let anyone touch him with bare hands."

The men nodded and moved at once. 

Barely seconds later, more men joined them while three stayed behind to guard us.

Alaric bent and lifted the unconscious guard into his arms with almost no effort, even with his own arm still bleeding.

"Come on," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument as he turned toward home. “We need to get out of here.”

As Osric helped me to my feet, my legs buckled with fatigue. 

He immediately caught me against his side and kept his arm wrapped firmly around my waist the whole way back, like he was afraid I might disappear if he let go.

I had never seen him look this serious. 

By the time the estate came into view, dawn had already begun to stain the sky a pale, bruised gray.

The packhouse was wide awake and thick with unease. People were clustered in the foyer, whispering in apprehension, as armed guards stood guard. Everyone seemed tense that the pack was under attack.

Silence dropped, and every single head turned toward us the moment we stepped into view.

I could imagine what they were thinking as they saw their Alpha heirs covered in blood, with the wolfless girl standing between them. 

This was so not going to help my already terrible reputation in the pack. 

"Take him to the clinic," Alaric ordered, handing over the unconscious guard to a warrior standing near the door. "Now."

The guard let out a low whimper of pain as he was shifted into the other man's arms. The warrior dipped his head in a quick bow and rushed off down the hall.

Osric quickly led us up the grand staircase to the third floor, ignoring the curious eyes staring at us.

"Tyra!" My mother’s voice yelled.

I looked up to see her rushing over in her sleeping robe, her hair loose and wild like she had been pacing for hours. 

She wrapped me in a hug tight enough to cut off my breath.

"What happened?" she cried, pulling back and holding me at arm's length.

The relief in her eyes faded, twisting into alarm as she saw the burn scars from the net and blood spatter on my body.

"Yes, what the hell was that?" Lucius asked urgently, quickly coming up behind her.

His eyes swept over his sons. "The two of you suddenly ran out of here without a word of explanation, and now you come back covered in blood with an injured man."

"Our mate was in danger," Osric replied curtly, his hand still pressed to the small of my back. "We didn't have time to explain."

My whole body went rigid at the word 'mate'.

"Watch your mouth," Alaric hissed under his breath, looking toward the crowd below to see if anyone was close enough to have heard.

Osric shot him a scathing look but said nothing. 

He gently guided me to a velvet chair on the landing and helped me sit, watching for a moment as if making sure I wasn't going to topple over.

“You need to be more careful,” Alaric hissed at his twin. 

"Not now, both of you," Lucius said sternly, his voice firm. 

His eyes shifted to his sons, concern and curiosity warring in them. 

"You were both sitting at the dinner table with me,” he continued, his voice low. “How did you know Tyra was in trouble?”

“More importantly,” my mom piped in. “What kind of trouble, exactly? What happened?"

"It was an ambush," Alaric replied tightly. "They already had her trapped in a silver net when we got there. This was planned, Father."

"And we felt it," Osric added, looking at his father with something almost like wonder in his face. "I don't know how, but we both knew she was in trouble at the same moment. It was like…" 

He hesitated, then shook his head. "It was like she called out to us."

I stared at him, perplexed. I hadn't called anyone. I had been too busy screaming in pain and terror.

"That's not possible," Lucius said slowly, his frown deepening. "You aren't bonded yet. She hasn't even accepted either of you as hers."

"I would appreciate it," Alaric bit out through clenched teeth, "if everyone stopped talking about mates when we are in public."

Osric rolled his eyes. 

My mother rushed over and dropped to her knees beside my chair. Her hands fluttered over my face, my shoulders, and my arms, and her eyes searched every inch of me for wounds.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Baby, look at me. Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No, I'm not," I whispered, shaking my head numbly. "Thanks to them."

Alaric's eyes found mine, and for a heartbeat, his face softened in a way I had never seen before.

"Go clean up and get some rest, Tyra," he said quietly, his voice almost gentle. “That must have been a harrowing experience for you.”

“Talk about the understatement of the year,” Osric muttered under his breath. 

He turned to me. “He’s right, though,” he said, stroking my hair. “You need to rest. I’ll call for the pack doctor to come—”

“No,” I said quickly, moving from his hand and getting to my feet. “I’m fine. I’ll take a shower and sleep. If I don’t feel too well tomorrow, then I’ll go to the clinic.”

Fatigue grew in me as he hesitated, looking like he wanted to argue.

“She knows her limit,” my mom said. “No need to push.”

Alaric’s gaze slid to my mother, and his expression turned cold and hard as stone. "We all need to talk," he said flatly.

He turned and stalked down the hall toward his father's study without waiting for an answer. 

She nodded reluctantly.  

“I’ll come check in on you later,” she said, patting my back.

Then she rose and followed him with Lucius right behind her, their footsteps quick and tense against the marble.

Osric stayed with me. 

"Are you sure you’re ok?" he murmured, his eyes soft with concern. "You're still shaking."

I rubbed my arms, nodding. "Yeah," I said hoarsely. Then I made myself meet his eyes. "Thank you for coming for me, Osric. Both of you. You could have died."

"So could you," he said softly, brushing a smear of dirt from my cheek with his thumb. "But you didn't, and that's all that matters to me."

He walked me to the entrance to the family's private wing and stood there, watching, until I entered. 

Only when I stepped inside did I hear his footsteps turn and head toward the study.

I went to my quarters, closed the door behind me, and leaned my back against it, letting it hold me up because my legs no longer could.

Slowly, I lifted my hands and stared at them, half expecting to see that weird light flicker beneath my skin again, but there was nothing there except dried blood and dirt and the faint tremor I couldn't seem to stop.

I curled my fingers into fists and pressed them hard against my chest. "What's happening to me?"