Chapter 45
Elara's POV
Kael's presence had parted the crowd like a blade through water, bringing us face to face with their leader. His words then hung in the air like a death sentence. Harrington's brat. His voice dripped with so much hatred I could taste it.
I stepped forward before Kael could respond. My boots crunched on the frozen ground. Every eye in the camp snapped to me.
"We're not here to drive you out," I said.
The scarred man's lip curled. "Then why the hell are you here?"
A younger wolf with a thick neck laughed. It was an ugly sound. "Look at this. A worthless Omega who can't even shift thinks she can walk into our camp and—"
"I'm a friend of the attack victim," I cut him off. My voice came out flat. Cold. "I need to know the truth."
The scarred man took a step closer. His fists clenched at his sides. "Victim? Goldman and his crew are the real criminals here."
My heart rate stayed steady. I'd faced down worse than an angry refugee. "I know what the Goldmans did three months ago. I know they forced you out."
That made him freeze. His eyes narrowed.
I pushed forward. "So when they got attacked everyone assumed it was you. Revenge."
"We didn't touch them!" The scarred man's shout echoed through the trees. Several wolves behind him flinched. "We hate those bastards. I won't lie about that. But we didn't attack anyone."
The thick-necked wolf stepped up beside his leader. He jabbed a finger toward the tents. "You see us? Half-starved. Three of our people can barely walk. You really think we could sneak into town and take down a Goldman?"
A middle-aged woman with graying hair spoke up from near the fire. Her voice shook. "If we wanted revenge we wouldn't have left survivors. That's not how wolves operate."
The logic hit me hard. She was right. Wolf attacks were brutal. Efficient. The Goldman assault had been sloppy. Almost theatrical.
Before I could process that a scream tore through the camp.
A young woman stumbled out of the largest tent. Tears streaked her face. She threw herself at the scarred man's feet. "Father please. Jasper's wound is getting worse."
The scarred man's entire body went rigid. The hatred in his eyes transformed into something worse. Desperation.
He looked at Kael. Then at me. "If you're not here to kill us..." His voice cracked. "Please. Save my son."
I didn't hesitate. I followed the woman into the tent.
The smell hit me first. Infection. Rot. My stomach clenched but I kept my face blank.
A boy lay on a torn sleeping bag. Fourteen. Maybe fifteen. His left knee was wrapped in filthy bandages. Dark blood seeped through the fabric.
I knelt beside him and ripped the bandages away.
The wound was a mess. Pus. Inflamed tissue. The skin around it burned hot to the touch.
"There are fragments still inside," I said. My voice came out clinical. Detached. "That's why it won't heal. The poison is spreading."
Kael appeared in the tent entrance. He didn't say anything. Just held out my emergency pack.
I grabbed it and got to work.
The boy's mother hovered behind me. Her breathing was ragged. "Is he going to die?"
"Not if you let me concentrate."
I pulled out my tweezers. Sterilized them with alcohol. The boy's eyes rolled back in his head. He was barely conscious.
I pressed my palm against his shoulder. Held him down. "This is going to hurt."
Then I dug into the wound.
The boy screamed. His mother sobbed. I ignored both.
My tweezers scraped against something hard. I adjusted my angle. Pulled.
A sliver of silver came free. Then another. Then a third.
Blood welled up but it was clean. Fresh. I packed the wound with gauze and wrapped it tight.
The whole thing took maybe three minutes.
When I looked up every wolf in the tent was staring at me like I'd performed a miracle.
The boy's mother grabbed my hands. Tears poured down her face. "Thank you. Thank you. We haven't seen a pack member help a rogue in years."
My chest tightened. I pulled my hands away.
Outside the tent the scarred man waited by the fire. He held out a canteen. "Water?"
I took it. Drank. The cold liquid helped clear my head.
"About the Goldman attack," the scarred man said slowly. "We might know something."
I sat up straighter. "Tell me."
He stared into the flames. "Four days ago a stranger came through camp. Wolf. But not one of ours. He smelled wrong. Too much blood on him."
The thick-necked wolf stepped forward from the fire's edge, his expression grim. "He asked if we wanted to 'teach the Goldmans a lesson.' Said he could help us reclaim our territory."
"What did you say?" Kael's voice came from behind me. I hadn't heard him approach.
The scarred man shook his head. "I told him no. We're refugees. Not murderers."
"But he said something before he left." The thick-necked wolf's jaw clenched. "He said it didn't matter if we helped or not. The Goldman problem would 'solve itself.'"
Ice spread through my veins.
Kael leaned forward. "What did he look like?"
"Tall. Maybe six-five. Scar through his left eye." The thick-necked wolf's voice dropped. "Eastern European accent. Russian maybe."
Kael and I locked eyes.
The pieces clicked together in my head. The attack on the Goldmans wasn't revenge. It was a setup. Someone wanted to frame these refugees. But why?
And who the hell was the scarred stranger?
The boy's mother emerged from the tent. She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Jasper is sleeping. The fever broke."
Relief flickered across the scarred man's face. Then suspicion crept back in. "Why are you really here?"
I stood up. Brushed dirt off my jeans. "Because I need to know who's hunting in this forest. And now I know it's not you."
"So what happens now?" The scarred man's hand drifted toward the knife at his belt. "You going to report us to the pack? Get us driven out again?"
"No." The word came out harder than I meant. "But you need to be careful. Whoever set you up is still out there."
Kael moved to my side. His presence was solid. Grounding. "We'll find him."
The scarred man studied us both for a long moment. Then he nodded once. Sharp. Final.
"If you're hunting the bastard who did this..." He paused. "Watch your back. He's not working alone."
My pulse kicked up. "What makes you say that?"
"Because no lone wolf could pull off a frame job this clean." The scarred man's eyes went hard. "This was planned. Professional."
The word professional sent a chill down my spine.
I thought about the attack. The timing. The survivors left alive. It all pointed to someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
Someone like me.
Kael touched my elbow. "We should go."
I nodded. Started walking toward the tree line.
Behind us the camp settled back into uneasy quiet. But I could feel their eyes on my back. Watching. Wondering.
When we were out of earshot Kael spoke. "You handled that well."
I didn't answer. My mind was racing too fast.
A professional hit. A frame job. A mysterious wolf with a Russian accent.
None of it made sense. But one thing was clear.
The real enemy was still out there. And they were a hell of a lot more dangerous than a pack of desperate refugees.