Bounds of the broken
Leah's POV
We moved toward the door, and I couldn’t help but glance back at the room—the bed, the fireplace, the faint shadows dancing on the walls. It felt like I was leaving behind a sanctuary, however temporary it might have been.
The kitchen was alive with activity when Rosa pushed open the door, a wave of warmth and chaos welcoming us. Pots clanged against metal countertops, knives chopped vegetables with sharp, precise movements, and the air was rich with the aroma of roasted meat and simmering spices. It was a world within a world—bustling, noisy, and oddly comforting.
Rosa entered with confidence like she owned the place, her apron tied tightly around her waist and a towel slung over her shoulder. “Ladies,” she announced with a dramatic flair, her voice rising above the din, “we have a guest!”
The noise didn’t stop immediately. A petite woman by the sink continued scrubbing a pile of pots, her elbows working furiously. She muttered something I couldn’t catch, her lips curling in mild irritation. Another woman crouched by an oven, checking the progress of what smelled like a perfectly roasted piece of meat, barely glancing up.
“A guest?” a voice piped up from the corner, dripping with sarcasm. “What, did the Alpha suddenly develop a craving for dessert?” The speaker, a sharp-eyed woman stirring a pot of stew, shot Rosa a wry look.
Rosa rolled her eyes, undeterred. “No, Celia, not dessert,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “This is Leah, the herbalist who’s treating the Alpha.” She stepped aside, gesturing at me like I was some kind of prize she’d just won.
Suddenly, all movement in the kitchen slowed, and I felt the weight of their stares. For a heartbeat, I stood there awkwardly, clutching the basket of herbs Rosa had handed me earlier, unsure of what to say.
“She’s the one?” Celia asked, her dark brows arching as she set down her ladle and wiped her hands on her apron. She stepped closer, her gaze sharp and appraising.
“Well, she doesn’t look like much,” another woman remarked. She was tall and freckled, her hands busy slicing loaves of bread with a knife that gleamed under the overhead light. Her tone wasn’t exactly hostile, but it wasn’t welcoming either.
“Esme!” Rosa snapped, shooting her a pointed glare. “Manners, please.”
Esme shrugged, unbothered. “I’m just saying.”
Rosa sighed, exasperated but not surprised. “Leah, meet the kitchen crew. That’s Celia,” she said, pointing to the woman who had spoken first. “She’s my second in command and thinks she runs this kitchen better than I do.”
“Because I do,” Celia interjected with a cheeky grin, earning a round of laughter from the others.
Rosa ignored her. “Over there is Esme, who thinks sarcasm is a personality trait—”
“I heard that,” Esme muttered, though a sly smile tugged at her lips as she continued slicing the bread.
“—and by the sink, we have Bella, the queen of spotless pots. She can clean an entire kitchen without getting a drop of water on her clothes.”
Bella straightened, flicking a glance my way before going back to her scrubbing. “It’s called skill,” she said, not bothering to look up.
“Mira’s by the oven,” Rosa continued. “Be careful around her; she’s territorial about her roasts.”
“Damn right I am,” Mira said without turning, her eyes fixed on the golden-brown meat she was basting.
“And last but not least, Olivia,” Rosa said, nodding toward a shy-looking woman at a counter. Olivia was rolling out dough with methodical precision, her round glasses sliding down her nose. “She’s a dessert genius but doesn’t say much. Don’t let her innocent face fool you, though.”
Olivia smiled timidly and waved. “Hi,” she said softly, barely meeting my eyes.
“Hi,” I managed, my voice quieter than I intended. The energy of the kitchen was overwhelming, and I felt like an intruder in their tightly knit circle.
“Oh, she’s polite too,” Esme said, smirking. “This should be interesting.”
“She’s not just polite,” Rosa interjected, taking a step forward and placing a hand on my shoulder. “She’s talented. You all saw the Alpha this morning, didn’t you?”
The room stilled, and a murmur rippled through the group. Celia exchanged a look with Mira, and even Esme’s hands paused mid-slice.
“Exactly,” Rosa said, her voice carrying a note of triumph. “This woman—on her first day—did what the Crimson Community’s best healer Reah, couldn’t do. The Alpha is healing.”
Their collective gaze turned back to me, heavier this time, laden with curiosity and something else—hope, maybe.
“What’s your secret?” Celia asked, tilting her head. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but it carried a sharp edge. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s impressive. But the Alpha’s wounds were cursed. Everyone knows that. And yet, you’ve made progress already?”
I paused, unsure how to respond. The truth was, I didn’t have an answer. Not one I understood, anyway.
“Don’t tell me it’s some kind of ancient family secret,” Esme said, leaning on the counter with an amused look. “Or maybe you’re secretly a witch?”
“Esme!” Rosa hissed, though the others chuckled.
I forced a smile, feeling the tension creep up my spine. “I… don’t have any secret,” I said, my voice carefully measured. “I’m just a healer. I do my best, and maybe I got lucky.”
“Lucky?” Mira repeated, raising an eyebrow as she wiped her hands on a towel. “I don’t buy that. No one’s that lucky. There’s got to be something you’re not telling us.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Bella cut in, her voice thoughtful. “You must have inherited it,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she studied me. “Healing like that doesn’t just happen. Was your mother a healer? Or your father? Maybe your grandmother?”
The question hit me like a bolt of lightning, freezing me in place. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
My parents’ faces flashed in my mind—kind, familiar, and yet… not mine. Not really. I had known the truth for years, but I had buried it deep, refusing to let it define me.
“Well?” Celia prompted, her tone sharper now. “Was one of them a healer?”
I swallowed hard, forcing the lump in my throat down. “I don’t know,” I said finally, my voice barely audible. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
Esme snorted. “How do you not think about something like that?”
“I just…” I faltered, then forced a smile, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt. “Maybe I’ll ask them next time I see them.”
The room went quiet for a moment, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“Hmm,” Rosa said, breaking the silence with a thoughtful hum. She patted my shoulder, her touch reassuring. “Well, whatever the reason, you’re here now, and we’re lucky to have you.”
“Very lucky,” Celia agreed, though her tone was laced with suspicion. She gave me one last searching look before turning back to her pot.
“Still,” Bella said, her voice light but her gaze serious, “we’d love to know what makes you so special.”
“We all would,” Mira added, folding her arms as she leaned against the counter. “Don’t keep us waiting too long, Leah. We can’t wait to know the secret behind your healing power.”