Chapter 171

Rovak's POV

Every breath sent sharp daggers through my ribs. Every slight movement awakened a new chorus of agony. I lay crumpled against the cold stone wall of the Bloodclaw dungeon, the taste of blood metallic in my mouth. The damp air carried the stench of mildew and something worse—old blood and despair.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been here—hours, maybe a day. Time lost meaning when each moment was measured in waves of pain.

My mind drifted back to Kassak's face, twisted with rage as his hand closed around my throat. The fury in his eyes—that hadn't been just an Alpha protecting his territory. That had been something else, something wilder and more dangerous. My fingers gingerly touched my neck, feeling the bruised flesh where his claws had nearly punctured my jugular.

Water dripped somewhere in the darkness, the steady plink-plink marking seconds or minutes or hours. I closed my swollen eyes, trying to find enough strength to heal, but my wolf was as battered as my human form, whimpering in the corners of my mind.

A commotion at the end of the corridor pulled me from my misery. Voices, one soft but insistent, the others gruff with authority.

"He's injured severely. He needs medical attention." A woman's voice. Familiar.

"Luna's orders were clear. No visitors, especially not you, Lyra." The guard's tone was firm but not unkind.

Lyra. My eyes cracked open, squinting toward the dim torchlight that barely penetrated my cell.

"He's our packmate," Lyra argued. "Whatever his supposed crimes, we don't leave our own to suffer."

I heard a sigh, then the sound of something being offered. "What's this?"

"Take it," Lyra said. "For your troubles."

The guard pushed whatever it was back toward her. "Keep it. You need it more than I do these days." A pause. "Five minutes. Be quick."

Keys jingled, and the cell door creaked open. Lyra's slender silhouette appeared against the flickering torchlight. Even in my state, I could see the changes in her—thinner, with shadows under her eyes that hadn't been there before. But she moved with purpose, a small medical box clutched in her hands.

"Rovak," she whispered, kneeling beside me. Her scent carried notes of herbs and something else—milk. For the pup she'd been given to raise.

I tried to smile, a gesture of greeting, but it pulled at the split in my lip, making me wince instead. "Didn't expect visitors in Alpha's doghouse," I managed, my voice a raspy shadow of itself.

"Don't try to talk," she said, opening her kit. "Let me see what he did to you."

Her hands were gentle as she examined the worst of my wounds. When she lifted my shirt to reveal the mottled purple bruising across my ribs, I heard her sharp intake of breath.

"Three broken ribs, at least," she murmured. "And this..." Her fingers hovered over the claw marks on my throat. "He almost killed you."

"Wanted to," I said. "His mate convinced him to let me live. For now."

Lyra's expression darkened as she pulled out antiseptic and clean bandages. "She's not his mate. Not truly. No real mate would send packmates to die."

I watched her as she worked, her movements efficient despite the anger I could smell rolling off her. She looked better than when I'd last seen her, after she'd lost her pup. Still too thin, still haunted, but there was life in her eyes again.

"The little one," I said as she applied a stinging salve to the worst of my cuts. "How is he?"

A small smile touched her lips. "Growing. Hungry all the time. A strong little wolf."

"And you?" I asked, wincing as she wrapped a bandage around my chest, binding my ribs.

Her smile faded. "Managing. It's... different now, with the new Luna. Rations are smaller. She says it's necessary to conserve resources." Lyra's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "The warriors get less, too. Even the pregnant females and nursing mothers."

That wasn't just conservation. That was deliberate weakening.

"She watches me closely," Lyra continued, checking a deep gash on my arm. "I think because of my history with Kassak. I understand her jealousy, I suppose."

"And the pup?" I asked.

Her expression tightened. "He gets hungry. I give him my portion when I need to."

The realization hit me like another of Kassak's blows. Riley wasn't just here as a spy—she was systematically weakening Bloodclaw from within. Starting with the most vulnerable.

"Lyra," I said, grabbing her wrist despite the pain it caused me. "You need to leave. Take the pup and go."

Her eyes widened. "What? I can't just—"

"That attack was a trap," I said, my voice urgent despite its weakness. "There were no elders or women—just warriors waiting with silver nets. They knew exactly where we'd be."

Lyra's hands stilled. "What are you saying?"

"Riley's not what she seems. I think she's still loyal to Moonshade. She's here to destroy us from within." I coughed, tasting fresh blood. "She'll keep cutting rations, weakening our fighters, sending them into traps until there's nothing left of Bloodclaw."

She looked skeptical, but didn't immediately dismiss my words. "Even if that's true, where would I go? No pack takes in a lone wolf with a pup. We'd be rogue, hunted by everyone."

"Better than staying here to starve or worse," I insisted. "That Luna will eventually turn her attention to you directly. You and any reminder of Kassak's past."

Lyra sighed, continuing to treat a wound on my shoulder. "My life is here, Rovak. Kassak saved me once. I owe him my loyalty."

The bitter irony of her words made me laugh, though it sent fresh pain through my chest. Here was my chance—perhaps my only chance—to tell her the truth I'd carried for too long.

"Lyra," I said, my voice dropping low. "There's something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you long ago."

She must have heard something in my tone, because her hands stilled again, her amber eyes fixing on mine. "What is it?"

"That day... during training..." I struggled to find the words. "When you were injured and lost the pup. It wasn't an accident."

A crease appeared between her brows. "What do you mean?"

I took a painful breath. "Kassak ordered me to do it. To end your pregnancy." The words felt like poison leaving my mouth after being held inside so long. "He said the pup would distract you, make you less valuable as a fighter. He ordered me to make it look like a training accident."

Her face went completely still, only a slight tremor in her hands betraying any emotion.

"I've carried this shame since that day. I should have refused him, should have warned you. But I was a coward." I said, the weight of guilt crushing me more than my physical injuries.

I watched as she processed my words, her face a careful mask but her scent shifting—shock, grief, and a slow-burning anger blooming beneath the surface.

"Is that why you've always looked out for me?" she asked, her voice unnaturally calm. "Guilt?"