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ALTHEA
I woke up to silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The hollow kind.
My eyes opened slowly, the world swimming in pale whites and muted grays. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar, blurred at the edges, and for a moment I didn’t remember where I was—or why my body felt so wrong.
Then the pain reached me.
A deep, aching throb pulsed through my left arm, heavy and unrelenting, as though it no longer belonged to me. My fingers tingled uselessly, numb and cold, while fire burned beneath layers of bandages and splints.
Hospital.
The memory crashed into me without mercy.
His voice.
His grip.
The sound.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my chest tightening painfully as my heart began to race.
No.
I turned my head instinctively, fear flaring bright and sudden.
He wasn’t there.
Relief and heartbreak tangled together so tightly I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
The door opened quietly.
Kaylie stepped inside.
Her expression softened the moment she saw my eyes open. “Easy,” she said gently, crossing the room in quick strides. “You’re awake. Don’t move.”
I swallowed. My throat burned. “Is he—”
“No,” she said immediately. “And he won’t be.”
That made something inside me loosen—and break all at once.
“I don’t want to see him,” I whispered.
Kaylie’s jaw tightened. “You won’t.”
Tears welled despite my effort to stop them. I stared at the ceiling, blinking rapidly, refusing to let them fall.
“He didn’t mean to,” I said weakly, hating myself for even saying it.
Kaylie’s voice sharpened. “Intent doesn’t mend bones, Althea.”
My lips trembled.
“I trusted him,” I whispered. “I trusted him not to hurt me.”
Kaylie placed a careful hand on my shoulder. “And that trust was broken. You don’t owe him forgiveness. Not now. Not ever.”
My arm throbbed again, a reminder too loud to ignore.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
Kaylie exhaled slowly. “Your forearm was fractured clean through. The radius snapped under pressure. We had to realign it surgically.”
My stomach churned.
“And my wolf?” I asked quietly.
Kaylie hesitated.
That hesitation hurt more than the pain.
“Talia tried,” she said carefully. “But she’s too weak.”
The words settled like stones in my chest.
“She couldn’t heal me,” I whispered.
“No,” Kaylie confirmed softly. “She’s exhausted, Althea. Between past trauma, suppressed shifting, and stress… she doesn’t have the strength right now.”
My eyes burned.
“So how long?” I asked.
“Six weeks,” Kaylie said. “Minimum. Six weeks before the bone fully heals. Longer if you strain it.”
Six weeks.
Six weeks of reminders.
Six weeks of pain.
Six weeks to sit with what he’d done.
I turned my face away. “Please don’t let him in.”
Kaylie’s voice hardened with promise. “I won’t.”
ALPHA COLLIN
He didn’t remember leaving her on the floor.
He remembered the sound.
The crack echoed in his skull, over and over again, a brutal loop he couldn’t escape. He stood outside the infirmary doors like a condemned man, blood still roaring in his ears—not with rage now, but with something far worse.
Horror.
“What did I do?” he whispered.
The doors opened.
Kaylie stepped out.
Her eyes were cold.
“She’s awake,” she said.
Relief surged through him so violently his knees nearly buckled. “Let me see her.”
“No.”
The word was sharp enough to cut.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” Kaylie continued. “And you don’t deserve to.”
“I didn’t mean—”
Kaylie stepped closer, her aura flaring just enough to make him stop talking.
“You broke her arm,” she said quietly. “Do you understand what that means?”
His throat closed.
“I lost control,” he said hoarsely. “For a second—”
“For a second,” Kaylie repeated, her voice trembling with restrained fury, “you became exactly what she feared.”
The truth struck deep.
“She trusted you,” Kaylie went on. “Despite everything. Despite her past. Despite your reputation.”
Collin clenched his fists. “How bad is it?”
Kaylie didn’t soften. “Six weeks.”
His head snapped up. “What?”
“Her wolf is too weak to heal her,” Kaylie said bluntly. “Talia tried and failed.”
The words slammed into him.
Too weak.
Because of him.
“Her healing will be slow,” Kaylie continued. “Painful. And every day she’ll remember whose hand did this.”
Collin staggered back a step.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he whispered again, the words useless now.
“You don’t get to hide behind intent,” Kaylie snapped. “You crossed a line, Alpha. One that can’t be undone.”
He pressed a hand to his chest, where something felt torn open and bleeding.
“She refuses to see you,” Kaylie added. “And I support that decision fully.”
Silence swallowed him whole.
“She asked me to make sure you stayed away,” Kaylie finished. “So you will.”
He nodded stiffly.
Because for once, there was nothing he could command into submission.
ALTHEA
The days blurred together.
Pain.
Silence.
Loneliness.
I stared out the window, watching the world move without me. My arm lay immobilized beside me, wrapped and heavy, a constant reminder of how quickly safety could turn into betrayal.
Talia was quiet.
Not gone—never gone—but curled deep inside me, exhausted and hurting.
I’m sorry, she whispered faintly.
“It’s not your fault,” I murmured back. “You tried.”
I wondered if Alpha Collin knew.
If he understood that even my wolf had suffered because of him.
And I hated myself for wondering at all.
ALPHA COLLIN
He didn’t sleep.
He stood guard outside her door for hours before Kaylie ordered him away.
Each step back felt like punishment—and mercy all at once.
Six weeks.
Six weeks to live with what he’d done.
Six weeks knowing that the one person who had looked at him without fear now wanted nothi
ng to do with him.
He had ruled with anger his entire life.
And for the first time—
It had cost him everything.