Lahat ng Kabanata ng THE ALPHA WHO REJECTED ME : Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

I found Petra on her knees in the dirt.The medicinal garden stretched along the south wall in tight rows, Nothing decorative but Everything useful.Wolfsbane set far from the path.Yarrow for bleeding.Feverwort clustered near the drainage channel.The garden looked like a field kit laid open on the ground. Every plant placed for the moment something went wrong.Petra knelt in the yarrow, pruning slowly and Focused. The kind of focus people use when work is easier than thinking.I stopped at the edge of the garden.“The archive sent me to you.”She did not startle.She set the shears down in the dirt and looked up at me.Same look she gave me the first night in my room. Quiet, Assessing, A healer measuring damage before deciding how much to touch.She studied my face.“I wondered how long it would take,” she said.She did not invite me closer.I crouched beside the row anyway.“You were there,” I said. “Eastern ridge. The night Damon died.”“Yes.”No pause, no hesitation.Just truth

The food tray appeared first.Day nine.It sat outside my door before I woke. Bread, Soft cheese, Dried fruit and Black tea still warm enough to drink.No note.I stood in the doorway and looked at it, Then I picked it up.I had mentioned dried fruit once To Soren during the territory tour while we passed the storage building. He was listing what the pack stored for winter and I said it without thinking.One of the few things I actually like at Hunter breakfasts.Once.Three days ago.I ate the food and Said nothing.Started paying attention.The blanket appeared on day eleven, Folded at the foot of my bed while I was at morning meal.Three nights before that I had woken at two in the morning with the room cold enough to sting the air in my lungs. The fire had burned down to ash and I rebuilt it myself.I had not mentioned it to anyone.Cold was not a complaint worth making.The blanket was thick and Warm.Folded carefully, Even edges and Exact corners.Someone had taken time with it.

The first honest conversation Cade and I had happened in complete silence.The library was empty when I arrived.That was deliberate.This room sat unused most evenings except by people who preferred quiet work to communal noise. I had learned the pack’s rhythms quickly. When to avoid the meal hall. When patrol rotations shifted. When a corridor stayed empty long enough for thinking.I had been here two hours already.Four texts covered the reading table.Pack law volume two.The mate bond legal codex.The elder council’s annotated provisions on heir timelines.And a thinner reference text on biological bond stages that I had found buried in the medical history section and pulled without fully deciding why.Paper sat under my hand.Pencil beside it.Half a page filled with notes.The first lines were neat.Precise.The later ones less so.The deeper I read into the deterioration sections the less clinical the notes became.The bond law was exact in ways Hunter briefings had never prep

I worked the way Damon had taught me.Two columns. Left side: source, date, method of acquisition. Right side: reliability rating, one through five. Confirmed facts at the top of each column. Assumed facts below, clearly marked.It was the only honest way to look at intelligence. Strip out the framing, remove whoever handed it to you, look at what the evidence actually says when it is standing alone.I had three pages by the time I finished.The Hunter briefings had given me a clear picture of the Duras pack. Aggressive territorial expansion before the war. Active recruitment of rogue wolves as a destabilization program targeting human settlements. Known offender status in the post-war council records. A pack that had used violence as policy and abandoned its weapons, the rogues, when the political cost became too high.I put that in the left column. Source: Hunter Council intelligence division. Reliability: unverified. Single source. No independent confirmation.Then I worked the rig

Nine days out, and my body had stopped pretending it didn’t know where he was.I could place him without trying. Northern wing at night, the great hall at midday, the tactical room in the late afternoon when the light came through the western windows at a low angle. The bond had been building its map of him for three weeks and now it ran the information automatically, a compass I had not asked for and could not switch off.The baseline rose with the day. That was the new pattern, manageable before dawn, climbing by midmorning into something that required active effort to keep from registering on my face.I went to the training yard before the light came up.Running helped. Physical exhaustion gave the body something concrete to do and pulled resources away from the bond’s noise. I had been using it since day three and it was becoming less effective, which meant I needed to work harder, which was fine because I had never minded working hard.The training yard was lit by two torches and