Chapter 18

Ethan's POV

Blood. Silver. Poison.

The scents mingled in my nostrils as I cradled Freya's limp wolf form against my chest. Her normally sleek gray-white fur was matted with crimson, and her breathing came in shallow, ragged gasps. Silver burns marked where the spikes had pierced her flesh, the wounds festering with an unnatural blue tinge that spoke of powerful toxins.

Rowan, my wolf, howled within me—a sound of pure anguish that clawed at my insides. "Protect. Save. Ours."

I didn't understand the ferocity of his reaction. Yes, she was pack, and I was Alpha. Protection was my duty. But this... this felt different. Raw. Primal. It made no sense.

Holding her carefully, I loped through the forest until I found a small clearing bathed in moonlight. I laid her gently on a bed of soft moss, my hands trembling slightly—an unfamiliar sensation for an Alpha. The silver had penetrated deep, and the scent of the poison was unmistakable: wolfsbane mixed with nightshade and silver powder. A deadly combination specifically designed to kill our kind.

"Lick the wounds," Rowan urged, pushing against my human consciousness with unusual force. "Clean them. Now."

The suggestion shocked me. Licking wounds was an intimate act between mates or family members, not something an Alpha did for a contractual partner he was planning to release from their agreement. And yet, the urge was overwhelming.

I hesitated, my mind flashing back to earlier that evening.

---

The ritual had begun as tradition dictated. I stood on the ceremonial rock overlooking the forest edge, watching as the participating wolves assembled below. As Alpha, I wasn't required to enter the forest during the hunt—my role was to oversee, to judge, to maintain order from afar.

But something felt wrong. A heaviness had settled in my chest, a nagging discomfort that Rowan seemed to share. He paced restlessly within me, whining and growling in turns.

"Go," he insisted. "Forest. Now."

"Is everything alright, Alpha?" James, my Beta, had asked, noticing my distraction.

I nodded curtly. "I'll patrol the eastern quadrant. Keep watch here."

James looked surprised—Alphas didn't patrol during hunts—but he knew better than to question me.

As I entered the trees, Freya's image flashed in my mind. Her face had been pale at the starting line, shadows beneath her eyes that she'd tried to hide. Victor had pulled me aside before the ceremony.

"The girl doesn't look well," he'd said, his weathered face creased with concern. "Perhaps she shouldn't participate."

I'd dismissed his worries. "She made her choice. I won't interfere."

But Rowan had growled at my words, and now, as I moved deeper into the forest, I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

---

I'd caught Riley's scent first—sharp and familiar, moving quickly through the undergrowth. Curiosity and a strange suspicion pulled me after it. I followed silently, keeping downwind, until I spotted her wolf form darting between trees.

My breath caught. Riley moved with perfect grace and speed, her silver-tipped paws barely touching the ground as she navigated a difficult terrain. There was no hint of the knee injury that supposedly prevented her from shifting. No limp, no favoring one leg, no sign of pain.

I watched as she paused in a small clearing, her muzzle lifting in what looked disconcertingly like a satisfied smile. She seemed to check something on the ground, circling it once before bounding away with purpose.

When I approached the spot, I found disturbed earth and the faint glint of silver beneath scattered leaves—a trap. Before I could investigate further, a blue-silver flash of light erupted from somewhere nearby, followed by a pained howl that sent ice through my veins.

Freya.

---

Now, looking at her broken body in the moonlight, rage and confusion warred within me. The silver-poisoned wounds were severe—life-threatening. By pack law, I should not interfere. She had not sent the distress signal that would allow me to assist without her losing standing in the hunt.

But Rowan snarled, rebelling against my hesitation. "She dies if we wait. The cub dies."

The cub? What cub?

The thought vanished as quickly as it had formed, pushed away by something that felt like a wall in my mind. I shook my head, focusing on the immediate problem. Freya was fading fast, her breathing becoming more labored with each passing minute.

She convulsed suddenly, her wolf form shimmering as the pain forced a shift. The transformation was agonizing to watch—halting, stuttering, as her body fought against the silver's interference. When it finally completed, Freya lay naked and human before me, her skin deathly pale except for the angry red and blue-black wounds on her side and thigh.

Her scent had changed. It was still recognizably Freya—rain-washed forest and wild honey—but there was something else, something richer and more complex that I couldn't identify.

I gathered her in my arms again, her body lighter and more fragile in human form. As her head fell against my chest, Rowan suddenly went quiet. The constant push and pull of his consciousness against mine stilled completely for one startling moment, as if he'd recognized something profoundly important.

"Mine. Mate. Our—"

The thought cut off abruptly, like a radio signal interrupted by static. In its place came the familiar clouded feeling I'd lived with for five years—the witch's curse that prevented me from recognizing my true mate. The same emptiness that had led me to believe Riley's claim that she was the one.

But why would Rowan react this way to Freya?

I had no time to ponder. Freya's heartbeat was weakening, her skin growing colder by the second. She needed help beyond what I could provide.

Noah Fletcher. The human doctor. The man who understood werewolf physiology, who Freya trusted. Who looked at her with eyes that held too much warmth.

The thought of bringing her to him made jealousy burn hot in my gut, but I forced it down. If she left the forest boundaries, she would automatically forfeit the hunt, disqualifying herself from the Zeta position. But without medical help, she would die.

I made my decision quickly: Bring Noah to the forest to treat Freya rather than taking her beyond the boundary. I ran toward the edge of pack territory where Noah lived. Fear rode with me, an unfamiliar companion that made my heart race with something other than exertion.

"Faster," Rowan urged, his voice tight with panic. "Protect our—"

Again, the thought cut off, leaving me frustrated and confused. The curse seemed to be blocking something specific about Freya, something Rowan could sense but couldn't communicate.

I reached Noah's small house on the outskirts of town in record time. There was no opportunity for subtlety. I shifted back to human form on his porch and pounded on the door with desperate force.

When Noah opened it, his eyes widened in shock at the sight of me standing naked on his doorstep.