Chapter 55 CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Chapter 55 CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
ALEX

I'm in the pack library three hours after the confrontation with Alora, searching for anything that might help me understand how to manage the bond better. How to protect her without losing myself—or her trust—in the process.

The ancient texts mock me with their predictions. Every blood-wolf pairing ended in tragedy. Every Alpha lost control. Every bond became a curse instead of a blessing.

"There has to be something," I mutter, pulling another dusty tome from the shelf. "Some pack that figured it out."

Marcus enters carrying a box. "The archives from the old Mitchell pack. They finally sent them over—been in storage for decades apparently." He sets it on the table. "Thought there might be something useful about blood-wolves, given that's where Alora's family came from."

I open the box, finding journals, old pack records, and leather-bound books that look like they predate modern werewolf society. Most of it is standard pack documentation—birth records, territory agreements, council minutes.

Then I find it.

A journal bound in red leather, the pages yellowed with age. The handwriting inside is feminine, elegant, and the first entry makes my heart stop.

My name is Sera Mitchell. I am a blood-wolf. And I am writing this so that others like me might survive what I could not.

"Marcus." My voice comes out rough. "Get Elder Margaret. Now."

ALORA

I'm sitting in the gardens, trying to calm my racing thoughts, when Sarah finds me again. Her face is streaked with tears.

"My brother died," she says quietly. "Ten minutes ago. The silver poisoning—they couldn't stop it."

Guilt crashes through me so hard I can't breathe. "Sarah, I'm so sorry—"

"Could you have saved him?" She looks at me with red-rimmed eyes. "If the Alpha hadn't forbidden it, could you have healed him?"

"I don't know." The honesty hurts. "Maybe. But Alex was right about one thing—I've never tried healing silver poisoning before. I don't know if I'm strong enough."

"But you didn't even try." Her voice breaks. "My brother is dead, and you didn't even try."

She walks away before I can respond, leaving me alone with the crushing weight of her grief. Through the bond, I feel Alex's concern, but he doesn't come to me. Giving me space like I asked.

Space that feels like drowning.

A guard approaches, his expression urgent. "Luna Alora. The Alpha requests your immediate presence in the library. He says it's... important."

I follow him, my mind still reeling from Sarah's words. When I enter the library, I find Alex standing at the table with Marcus and Elder Margaret. All three of them look like they've seen a ghost.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

Alex holds up a red leather journal. "This belonged to Sera Mitchell. A blood-wolf who lived two hundred years ago." His eyes meet mine. "She documented everything. Her abilities, her mate bond, and—" He pauses. "And why blood-wolf pairings fail."

My heart hammers. "What does it say?"

Elder Margaret opens the journal to a marked page and begins reading aloud. Her voice is steady but I can hear the shock underneath.

"The texts say blood-wolves drive their Alphas to madness. This is false. The bond between blood-wolf and Alpha is intense, yes, but sustainable—if managed correctly. The madness comes not from the bond itself, but from isolation. From Alphas who try to protect their blood-wolf mates by separating them from pack, purpose, and power. The mate bond thrives on partnership, not possession. When an Alpha treats his blood-wolf as something to protect rather than someone to fight alongside, the bond becomes poisonous. He grows paranoid, possessive, violent. She grows weak, drained, purposeless. Both descend into madness—not because of what they are, but because of how they choose to bond."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I sink into a chair, my mind racing.

"There's more," Alex says quietly. He flips to another page. "She documented three successful blood-wolf pairings. Bonds that lasted decades without madness."

"How?" My voice is barely a whisper.

Elder Margaret continues reading. "The successful pairs had one thing in common—equality. The blood-wolf was not kept in safety while her mate fought. She fought beside him, using her healing to protect the pack, not just him. Her purpose gave her strength. His trust in her abilities gave him peace. The bond fed on mutual respect, not fear of loss."

"But the risks—" I start.

"She addresses that too." Marcus points to a passage. "Listen to this: 'My mate feared my death in battle more than his own. But I showed him that my healing abilities made me safer in combat than most warriors. I could heal myself, heal him, heal our pack. Keeping me locked away didn't protect me—it made me vulnerable. Weak from disuse. When the real threat came, I was too depleted to defend myself. He learned this the hard way."

Alex's hands are shaking slightly as he turns another page. "She survived her mate by thirty years. Raised their children. Led the pack after he died of natural causes." His eyes meet mine. "They had a normal life, Alora. A long, normal life together."

"What changed?" I ask. "Why did the other blood-wolf pairings fail if this is true?"

"Fear," Elder Margaret says softly. She holds up another page. "Sera writes about it here. 'After the successful pairings, Alphas grew cocky. They pushed their blood-wolf mates into battle without proper training, without understanding their limits. Blood-wolves died. Alphas, devastated by loss, overcorrected—locking away the next generation of blood-wolves, treating them as fragile things to protect. The cycle of failure began. Either blood-wolves were thrown into danger unprepared, or kept so isolated they couldn't function. The middle ground—true partnership—was lost."

I look at Alex, and through the bond, I feel his realization. His horror at what he's been doing.

"I've been isolating you," he says, his voice rough. "Forbidding you from healing. Keeping you from using your abilities. Making you weak."

"You were trying to protect me—"

"I was making the same mistake every failed Alpha made." He moves around the table toward me. "Treating you like something fragile to keep safe instead of a partner to fight beside."

"But the berserker rage—"

"Was triggered by seeing you in danger while feeling helpless to protect you properly." Marcus taps another passage. "Sera's mate had the same bloodline. Same berserker tendency. But it only manifested when she was locked away. When she fought beside him, when he could see her protecting herself and others, his wolf stayed calm. Controlled."

"The bond feeds on trust," Elder Margaret reads. "When my mate trusted me to protect myself, to use my gifts, to fight beside him—his wolf settled. The need to go berserker faded. He could think strategically because he wasn't constantly terrified for my safety. We became stronger together than either of us could be apart."

I stand, moving toward the window. My mind is reeling with the implications. "So you're saying the reason the bond is affecting you so badly is because you won't let me help? Won't let me use my abilities?"

"Yes." Alex's voice is tight with self-recrimination. "I thought I was keeping you safe. But I was actually making everything worse. Making myself more volatile because you're not being who you need to be. Making you feel useless and guilty when you should be actively helping."

"The warriors this morning," I say quietly. "If I had healed them—"

"You would have been stronger for it," Elder Margaret says. "According to Sera's records, blood-wolf healing abilities grow with use, not drain with use. The more you heal, the stronger you become. But only if you're healing regularly, keeping the power flowing." She looks at me. "By forbidding you from healing, Alpha Stone was actually making you weaker. More vulnerable."

Through the bond, I feel Alex's anguish. His absolute horror at realizing he's been hurting me while trying to protect me.

"There's one more thing," Marcus says carefully. He holds up the final pages of the journal. "Sera writes about what happens if a blood-wolf bond is already damaged. If the isolation has already begun."

Alex goes very still. "What does it say?"

"If you find yourself in the spiral—if your Alpha is already showing signs of possessive madness, if you already feel drained and purposeless—there is still hope. But the blood-wolf must take the lead. She must reclaim her power, her purpose, her place in the pack. Even if her Alpha forbids it. Even if he tries to stop her. She must prove through action, not words, that she is not a thing to protect but a force to be reckoned with. Only then will his wolf recognize the truth—that she is safer fighting beside him than locked away. Only then can the bond heal."

Silence falls in the library. I can feel Alex's eyes on me, but I can't look at him yet.

"So what you're saying," I say slowly, "is that I need to defy you. Need to use my healing abilities despite your commands. Need to fight beside you even when you want to keep me safe."

"Yes," Elder Margaret says firmly. "The journal is very clear. The blood-wolf must be the one to break the cycle. The Alpha is too deep in his protective instincts to do it himself."

"But the Alpha command—" I start.

"Can be broken with Luna authority," Marcus says. "You're not just his mate, Alora. You're the Luna of this pack. You have power in your own right. You just haven't been using it."

I finally look at Alex. Through the bond, I feel his war—his instinct to protect me battling with his understanding that protection is killing us both.

"I can't just let you give me permission," I say quietly. "That's not how this works, is it? I have to take it. Prove I'm strong enough."

"Yes." His voice is barely a whisper. "And every instinct I have is screaming at me to stop you. To keep you safe. To—"

"To make the same mistake every other Alpha made." I move closer to him. "Alex, Sarah's brother died this morning. I could have saved him. And I didn't even try because you commanded me not to."

The pain that flashes across his face is visceral. "I know."

"There are still six warriors with silver poisoning. Critical condition." I take a deep breath. "I'm going to heal them. All of them. Right now."

"Alora—"

"This isn't a request." I let my Luna power rise, feeling it flow through me for the first time since the bonding. "This is me taking my place in this pack. Using my gifts the way I was meant to. And you're going to let me. Because you finally understand that keeping me locked away is killing us both."

Through the bond, I feel him fighting. Every protective instinct raging against this. His wolf snarling in denial.

But then I feel something else. His conscious choice to trust me. To believe what the journal says. To let go of control even though it tears him apart.

"Fine," he says, the word forced out. "But I'm going with you. Not to stop you. To watch. To see you in your full power for the first time."

"And if it drains me?" I ask. "If I collapse?"

"Then I'll catch you." His hand cups my face. "But something tells me you're going to be stronger than either of us imagined."

We walk to the medical wing together, Elder Margaret and Marcus trailing behind. The pack doctors look up in surprise as we enter.

"Clear the room," I say, my Luna voice carrying authority I've never used before. "Everyone except Dr. Stevens and the Alpha."

They obey immediately, sensing the shift in power dynamics.

I move to the first critical warrior, placing my hands on his chest. Silver burns cover his torso, the poison spreading through his system.

"Last chance to stop me," I say to Alex.

"I'm not stopping you." His voice is steady despite the fear I feel through the bond. "I'm trusting you."

I close my eyes and let my power flow.

It's different this time. Instead of the small, controlled bursts I've been using, I open the floodgates. Let the healing pour out of me in waves. The silver poisoning fights back, burning through my palms, but I push harder.

The warrior gasps as his wounds begin to close. The gray pallor of silver poisoning fades from his skin.

"One down," I whisper. "Six to go."

I move to the next warrior, then the next. Each healing takes more effort, but I can feel what Sera wrote about. The power isn't draining. It's building. Growing stronger with each use.

By the time I reach the seventh warrior, my hands are glowing crimson. The healing energy flows through me like a river, and I'm not exhausted.

I'm exhilarated.

When the last warrior's breathing stabilizes, when all seven are out of critical condition, I turn to Alex.

He's staring at me like he's seeing me for the first time. Through the bond, I feel his awe. His wonder. And underneath it all, his wolf finally settling. Finally at peace.

"You're glowing," he says quietly.

I look down at my hands. He's right. A faint crimson light emanates from my skin, the mark of a blood-wolf in full power.

"This is what I was meant to be," I say. "Not a thing to protect. A force to fight beside."

He pulls me into his arms, and through the bond, I feel the shift. The possessive madness that's been building since our bonding—it's fading. Being replaced by trust. Partnership. True mate bond.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against my hair. "I almost destroyed us both trying to keep you safe."

"You didn't know." I pull back to look at him. "But now we both do. And we can't go back to how things were."

"I don't want to." His eyes are clear, more clear than I've seen them in weeks. "I want you beside me in battle. Using your gifts. Being who you were meant to be."

"Even if it scares you?"

"Especially because it scares me." His thumb brushes my cheek. "Because that fear means I respect your power. And respecting your power means trusting you. And trusting you means—"

"We might actually survive this," I finish.

Elder Margaret steps forward. "The pack needs to see this. Needs to see their Luna in full power. It will change everything."

"Tomorrow," Alex says. "We'll call an assembly. Show them what a blood-wolf truly is when she's allowed to be herself." He looks at me. "If you're ready."

"I'm ready." And I am. For the first time since arriving at Silver Creek, I feel like myself. Powerful. Purposeful. Whole.

"There's one more thing," Marcus says hesitantly. He holds up Sera's journal. "She writes about blood-wolves in battle. About how they fight."

"How?" I ask.

"Not from the back lines. Not as healers waiting to patch up the wounded." Marcus finds the passage. "She fought in the front lines. Used her healing on herself to recover from wounds that would kill others. Became nearly impossible to defeat because any injury healed within seconds."

"You want me to fight," I say slowly. "In the battle with the six packs."

"I want you to be what blood-wolves were always meant to be," Alex says. "Not a curse. Not a weakness. But the most powerful weapon a pack could have."

Through the bond, I feel his certainty. His absolute faith in me.

And for the first time, I share it.

"Then we train," I say. "We have three weeks before the six packs attack. Teach me to fight. To use my healing in combat. To be the partner you need."

"Not the partner I need." He kisses me softly. "The partner we both need to be."

As we leave the medical wing, I feel the pack's eyes on me. Word has already spread—the Luna healed seven critical warriors. Saved lives the doctors couldn't save.

And I didn't collapse. Didn't drain myself. Didn't prove Alex's fears right.

I proved Sera Mitchell right instead.

Blood-wolves aren't meant to be protected.

We're meant to be powerful.

And it's time the whole werewolf world remembered that.