Chapter 20: Blood for the Pack

POV: Nyra

The guard captain doesn't explain where we're going.

He just grabs my arm and drags me out of my cell, ignoring the way my legs barely support me.

We move through the kennel corridors, past cells filled with watching eyes. The prisoners press against their bars, curious about where I'm being taken.

We stop at a larger chamber near the center of the kennels.

It's different from the cells. Bigger. With reinforced walls and chains embedded in the stone. Blood stains the floor in dark patches that have soaked into the rock over years of use.

This is where they bring the dangerous ones.

Two guards stand inside, holding chains attached to restraints wrapped around a wolf who's clearly losing himself to madness.

He's a lower Alpha. I can tell by the remnants of his scent, though it's distorted now, wrong. His body jerks violently, muscles spasming as he fights the shift. Claws scrape uselessly against stone. His jaw snaps at air, fangs fully extended.

Shift-sickness.

I've heard of it but never seen it. When a wolf's control deteriorates so badly they can't complete or stop a transformation. They get stuck between forms, the instability tearing them apart from the inside.

It's supposed to be rare. Irreversible.

Fatal.

"What is this?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

"A test," the guard captain says. "And an opportunity."

He shoves me toward the center of the room.

The Alpha's head whips toward me, eyes wild and unfocused. He snarls, the sound more animal than human.

"You've been bleeding for the heir for three years," the guard captain says conversationally. "Your blood calms his rage. Stabilizes his condition. Makes him manageable."

He circles around me slowly.

"We've been wondering. Is it specific to him? Some kind of unique compatibility? Or does your defective blood work on all unstable wolves?"

Understanding crashes through me like ice water.

They're going to use me as an experiment.

"No," I say, backing away. "No, I'm not doing this."

"You don't have a choice," the guard captain says. He gestures to the guards holding the Alpha. "Feed him. Let's see what happens."

"I won't."

"Then he'll tear himself apart in the next hour. And his death will be on your hands."

I look at the Alpha. Really look at him.

He's young. Maybe mid-twenties. His face is twisted in agony, body convulsing as the shift-sickness ravages him.

He's dying.

Slowly. Painfully.

And if my blood can stop it...

"Fine," I whisper. "Give me a blade."

The guard captain hands me a small knife, watching with barely contained excitement.

I approach the Alpha carefully. The guards tighten their grip on his chains, keeping him restrained but allowing him to move his head.

He snarls at me, snapping his fangs.

I cut quickly across my forearm, the wound opening easily. Too easily. My skin has been cut so many times it barely resists anymore.

Blood wells up immediately, dark and thick.

I press my bleeding arm toward the Alpha's mouth.

He jerks back at first, confused, aggressive. But then the scent of blood reaches him.

His mouth closes over my wound.

The effect is immediate.

Just like with Caelum. Just like every time I've bled for stability.

The Alpha's body goes rigid. The violent spasms stop. His jaw unclenches around my arm, no longer biting, just drinking.

The wild, feral light in his eyes dims.

His breathing evens out.

The shift reverses slowly, painfully. Claws retract. Fangs shrink. His face returns to something more human.

Within minutes, he's collapsed to his knees, shaking but conscious. Aware. Human.

The guards stare in shock.

The kennel prisoners who can see through the doorway are silent, watching with wide eyes.

The guard captain's grin widens into something triumphant.

"I knew it," he breathes. "I knew it wasn't just the heir."

He steps closer, examining the Alpha who's now slumped on the floor, breathing hard but stable.

"Your blood doesn't just calm rage," the guard captain says, his voice filled with dark excitement. "It stabilizes shift-sickness. Reverses loss of control. Works on any unstable wolf, not just royalty."

I pull my arm away from the Alpha, wrapping it quickly to stop the bleeding.

The prisoners are murmuring now, voices carrying through the kennels.

"Did you see that?"

"She reversed shift-sickness. That's impossible."

"No defective should be able to do that."

"What is she?"

I realize the truth before anyone says it aloud.

My blood isn't just valuable to Caelum. It's valuable to anyone with control problems. Anyone suffering from instability. Anyone the court wants to manage without killing them outright.

I'm not just a donor anymore.

I'm a resource. A commodity. Something that can be sold, traded, used for profit and power.

The guard captain is practically vibrating with glee.

"Do you have any idea what this means?" he asks, not really talking to me. "We've been limiting her use to just the heir. But if she works on all unstable wolves..."

He turns to the other guards.

"Get me a list. Every Alpha suffering from control issues. Every wolf showing signs of shift-sickness. Every noble family with a problem they'd pay to fix quietly."

One of the guards hesitates.

"Sir, the Queen Regent classified her as confined to emergency use only."

"The Queen Regent will change her mind when she realizes the profit potential," the guard captain says dismissively. "This defective is worth more than her weight in gold. We're sitting on a royal asset and didn't even know it."

He looks at me with calculating eyes.

"You're a royal asset now," he says, the words making my skin crawl. "No more wasting you on just one wolf. We're going to use you properly."

My legs give out.

The exhaustion, the blood loss, the horror of what I just learned crashes through me all at once.

Somewhere in the dark.

Calling my name.