CHAPTER 207
GISELLE'S POV
The next two weeks were hell. I felt like a dying patient in my own home, with my mates as the desperate doctors trying everything to cure me.
I'd wake up to find Hakkan standing over me with a silver bowl full of something that smelled awful. "Ancient remedy for spiritual problems," he'd say, trying to sound professional but I could hear the worry. "Just a paste for your chest. Hold still."
I'd try to push his hand away. "It smells like rotten leaves. And it's not working."
"We just haven't found the right formula yet," he'd insist, his fingers cool as he smeared the gritty mixture on my skin. The touch was supposed to heal me, but it just felt invasive. I'm not a broken machine you can fix.
Zarkhan's approach was more physical. He'd corner me in the kitchen, his body blocking my way. "I read about energy redirection in old combat books," he'd say, grabbing my wrist. "If we can redirect the flow, maybe we can weaken its hold." He'd press his thumb into a pressure point on my inner arm until it hurt, searching my eyes for any change.
All I felt was pain and growing frustration.
"You're just giving me bruises," I'd snap, pulling away. "Stop it."
"I'll stop when you're better," he'd fire back, his protectiveness sharp and suffocating.
Khuraan was the quietest, but his method was the most unsettling. He'd just watch me. For hours. From a chair in the corner of the bedroom, or leaning in the doorway. His intense green eyes tracked every move I made, his silence heavy. He wasn't putting pastes on me or pressing pressure points. He was waiting for me to crack, to show signs of the monster.
It made my skin crawl.
The worst was at night. They'd take turns "strengthening the bond," as Hakkan called it. But it was just sex that felt... medicinal. Like a treatment. Zarkhan would take me with focused intensity, his eyes on my face, watching for changes in my energy. Hakkan would have me on my hands and knees, his skilled hands mapping my body's responses like he was taking medical readings. Khuraan would pin me down and move inside me with silent, desperate urgency, as if he could physically fuck the infection out of me.
I stopped having real orgasms. The pleasure was there, distant and muted beneath all the anxiety and being watched. But I faked it every time, because the moment I shuddered and cried out, they'd all relax a little. See? The bond is still strong. She's still ours.
It was a performance, and it was exhausting me.
One evening, after Hakkan tried a new drink that tasted like burnt metal and made my teeth feel weird, I'd had enough. They were all in the study, huddled over another old book. I stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
"This has to stop," I said flatly.
Three heads snapped up. "Giselle?" Zarkhan started to stand.
"Sit down. Listen." I walked in, feeling the strange power in my body hum with my anger. It liked this—me taking charge. I had to be careful. "You're treating the symptom, not the disease. You're pouring all your energy into fixing me, and you're ignoring the real problem."
"You are the real problem," Khuraan said softly, his gaze piercing.
"No," I shook my head. "I'm a pawn. The real problem is the blood monsters who are still out there. This wasn't random. This is strategy. They targeted the Luna—the heart of the pack bond—to turn the pack against itself. To create chaos. While you're all fussing over me, who's watching our borders? Who's investigating where they came from?"
The room went silent. I saw understanding dawn on Hakkan's face, saw the tactical shift in Zarkhan's eyes. Khuraan just stared, but his posture changed—less protective, more alert.
"She's right," Hakkan admitted, taking off his glasses. "We've been reactive. Fighting the effect instead of finding the cause."
"So we find the cause," Zarkhan said, his fist clenching on the desk. "But how? We have no leads. The ones who took Kade are gone. The voice on the phone is untraceable."
I took a deep breath. This was the risk. "I have a lead." I pulled out my phone and brought up the call log from that unknown number. I placed it on the desk. "This number. They've called me twice. It's how they contacted me about the 'cure.' It's our only connection to them."
They all stared at the number like it was dangerous.
"We find someone who can trace it," Khuraan said, his voice low. "Get the location of the last call. A cell tower, a general area. Something."
"Exactly," I said, feeling hope for the first time in weeks. "We stop trying to cure me and start hunting them. This feels bigger than just me. It feels like someone is trying to build something. An army of controllable monsters. Think about it. If they can create more like me—people connected to powerful packs—they could destabilize the entire werewolf community. Then step in as the 'solution' and take control."
The conspiracy hung in the air, ugly and too believable. The pieces fit too well.
"A power play," Zarkhan muttered, his tactical mind clearly working. "Using an ancient curse as a modern weapon."
"We need a tech specialist," Hakkan said, already pulling out his phone. "Someone discreet, outside the pack. I might know someone in the city."
They launched into planning. I stood there listening as they discussed secure lines, untraceable payments, meeting points. The energy in the room shifted from desperate healing to focused aggression.
It was a relief. For the first time, I felt like we were on the same side, fighting the same enemy, instead of them fighting the enemy inside me.
It was decided. Hakkan and Zarkhan would leave at dawn to meet Hakkan's contact. Khuraan would stay with me for protection and to manage pack security. We had a plan. A thread of purpose, however thin, was in our hands.
The next afternoon, the house felt strangely empty after they left. The silence was thick. I kept busy in the kitchen, making snacks for the twins who would be home from school soon. The normalcy of spreading peanut butter on bread was both sweet and painful.
I heard the front door open, then little voices chattering. My heart lifted. Aria and Ryker. I wiped my hands and turned as they ran into the kitchen, backpacks swinging.
"Mom! We built a fort at recess!" Aria announced, her eyes bright.
"I kicked the ball the farthest!" Ryker added, puffing out his chest.
I smiled—a real smile—and pulled them both into a hug, breathing in their scents of sunshine and childhood. "My brave, strong babies. Go wash up. Homework at the dining table in ten minutes, okay?"
They thundered upstairs. The quiet settled again, but it was a better quiet now, filled with their presence. I gathered their homework folders and my tea, heading for the dining room.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
Cold dread trickled down my spine before I even looked. I knew. I felt it.
Slowly, I walked back and picked it up. The screen showed that same unknown number. The digits were burned into my memory.
My finger hovered over the decline button. But if I didn't answer, would they call the house phone? Send messages to the kids' tablets? The threat was too uncertain, too terrifying.
I swiped to answer and brought the phone to my ear. I didn't speak.
"Luna." The voice wasn't mechanical this time. It was male, calm, and completely cold. "We're disappointed."
I leaned against the counter for support. "What do you want?"
"We gave you a gift. A purpose. And you're trying to hand our information to your... keepers. That's unwise."
My blood ran cold. How do they know? "I don't know what you're talking about."
A soft, humorless laugh. "The hacker. The meeting. Don't play stupid. It's beneath you. Here's what will happen. You will meet us tomorrow. Two p.m. The abandoned ranger station where Pine Crest meets the old highway. Come alone. You'll receive further instructions."
"Or what?" I whispered, my defiance weak.
"Or we stop being patient. The infection we put in you works both ways, Giselle. We can make it stronger. We can make the hunger so loud it drowns out everything else—your thoughts, your love for your children, your very will. And if you keep defying us... your mates will be next to receive a 'gift.' Imagine it. All three of them, changing. Hungry. Feral. Turning on their own pack."
The image was so horrible it stole my breath. Zarkhan, Hakkan, Khuraan... turned into monsters. Because of me.
"No," I breathed.
"Then you'll do what we say. And you'll stop sharing our secrets. This is your only warning." He paused, and I heard a soft clicking sound in the background. "Look to your left. At the vase on the windowsill."
My head turned automatically. It was a simple crystal vase with dried lavender, catching the afternoon light.
"Now look right. The family photo on the wall."
My eyes shifted. It was a picture of all of us from last summer, smiling, tangled together on a blanket.
"We see what you see, Luna," the voice said, chillingly intimate. "You're being watched. In your own home. There is no safe place. There is only obedience. Or destruction. Tomorrow. Two p.m."
The line went dead.
I stood frozen, the phone clutched in my numb hand. My eyes darted around the familiar kitchen—the vase, the photo, the toaster, the clock. Any of them. All of them. Was there a camera in the light fixture? A microphone in the smoke detector? The paranoid thoughts spiraled.
The walls I'd built my life in suddenly felt thin, transparent. Every cherished object was a potential spy.
A whimper escaped my throat. I was a rat in a glass cage, and they were watching every move. The power inside me stirred, not with anger, but with cold excitement. It liked the fear. It fed on the violation.
My children's laughter floated down the stairs, pure and joyful. It cut through the horror, a painful reminder of what was at stake.
I had to go tomorrow. I had to play along. But I couldn't tell my mates. The watchers would see. They'd know. They'd hurt them.
I was truly, completely alone. And the only thing I had left to bargain with was the monster growing inside me.