Chapter 159 Poisoned Oath Under the Moon
Wynter‘s POV
The full moon rose huge and silver, painting the Academy grounds in shades of pearl and shadow. I waited until well after midnight, until I was certain everyone was asleep, before slipping out of the dormitory.
The walk to the east woods felt longer than it should have, every shadow seeming to reach for me, every sound making me jump. Through the Bond, I felt Chase's sleeping presence—peaceful, unaware. I clamped down hard on my emotions, not wanting to wake him with my nervousness.
The old chapel appeared through the trees like something from a gothic novel—stone walls covered in ivy, windows long since broken, the door hanging slightly askew. Moonlight streamed through the gaps in the roof, creating pools of silver light on the cracked stone floor.
Dr. Vane was already there, standing in the center of a circle of candles that cast flickering shadows across the walls. He'd drawn symbols on the floor in what looked like chalk or salt—complex patterns that might have been ancient Pack runes or complete nonsense. I couldn't tell which.
"Miss Vaughn," he said, his voice echoing slightly in the empty space. "You came. I'm pleased."
"I said I would," I replied, stepping carefully over the threshold. The door swung shut behind me with a creak that made me flinch.
"Of course you did," Dr. Vane said, moving toward a small table set up near the makeshift altar. On it sat a collection of items—candles, herbs, and a single vial filled with liquid that glowed faintly silver in the candlelight. "You're very brave to come here alone. To trust in this process."
He picked up the vial, holding it up to the moonlight streaming through the broken roof.
"This is the elixir," he explained, his voice taking on that same academic tone from the lecture. "It's been prepared specifically for tonight, using compounds that will help activate your latent Alpha genes. The taste won't be pleasant, but the effects should begin within minutes."
I stared at the vial, my heart hammering. This was it. The moment of decision. I could still turn around, still walk away, still go back to being just Wynter—Beta, cursed, never quite enough.
Or I could become more.
"What happens after I drink it?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.
"You'll feel the transformation beginning," Dr. Vane said, setting the vial carefully back on the table. "Heat, pressure, your wolf rising to the surface. It will be uncomfortable—I won't lie to you about that. But I'll guide you through the incantations, help you channel the energy properly. Within an hour, the transformation should be complete."
He held out the vial, and I found myself reaching for it before conscious thought could interfere.
The glass was cool against my palm. The liquid inside swirled slightly, catching the candlelight and throwing it back in silver sparks.
"Are you ready, Miss Vaughn?" Dr. Vane asked gently.
No, part of me screamed. This is wrong. Something about this is wrong.
But I thought of Lord Aldric's cold dismissal. Of Professor Ashwood's trapped expression. Of the way people looked at me—at Chase's cursed Beta mate who would never be good enough.
"I'm ready," I said, and brought the vial to my lips.
The liquid tasted bitter and metallic, coating my tongue and throat as I swallowed. It burned going down, and I gasped, nearly dropping the empty vial.
"Good," Dr. Vane said, taking it from my nerveless fingers. "Very good. Now, just relax. Let the elixir work. Feel your wolf beginning to—"
The burning intensified, spreading from my throat to my chest, my limbs. But this wasn't the heat of transformation. This was wrongness, poison, my body recognizing too late that I'd made a terrible mistake.
My legs gave out. I hit the stone floor hard, pain shooting through my knees, but worse was the spreading paralysis—my muscles locking up, refusing to obey my desperate commands to move, to run, to shift.
No, I thought frantically, trying to call my wolf. No, please, we need to shift—
But my wolf was silent, unreachable, locked away behind whatever that poison was doing to my system.
"I'm afraid the transformation won't be quite what you expected," Dr. Vane said, his voice losing all warmth, becoming cold and clinical. He crouched beside me, tilting his head as he studied my face with detached interest. "Though I suppose there will be a transformation of sorts. From living to dead. That's quite a change, isn't it?"
Trap, my mind screamed. This was all a trap—
I tried to speak, to scream, but my throat had locked up. Only a choked whimper escaped.
"Don't strain yourself," Dr. Vane said, standing and brushing off his knees with fastidious care. "The paralytic works quickly, but fighting it only makes the process more unpleasant. Better to just... accept it."
He moved around me, checking the candles, adjusting the symbols on the floor with the casual efficiency of someone following a well-practiced routine.
"You're probably wondering who hired me," he continued conversationally, as if we were discussing the weather rather than my imminent death. "I'm not supposed to tell you—professional discretion and all that. But since you won't be around to share the information..." He smiled, and the expression was utterly devoid of warmth. "Let's just say a certain Lord was very concerned about his son's unfortunate attachment to an unsuitable mate."
Aldric, I thought, rage and betrayal flooding through me even as my vision began to blur at the edges. Lord Aldric did this.
"He didn't want to be directly involved, of course," Dr. Vane continued, examining one of the candles critically before repositioning it slightly. "Too messy. Too obvious. Much better to let a naive Beta girl destroy herself attempting dangerous magic beyond her capability. Such a tragic accident. Everyone will be very sorry, I'm sure."
He looked back at me, and I saw my death reflected in his cold, calculating eyes.
"The poison is quite elegant, really," he said with the pride of a craftsman discussing his work. "It will mimic the symptoms of a failed transformation ritual—seizures, system failure, death. By the time they find you, there will be no trace of foul play. Just another desperate Beta who reached too far and paid the price."
My chest was tightening, each breath becoming harder, more labored. The edges of my vision were going dark, and distantly I felt my body beginning to convulse as the poison worked deeper into my system.
Chase, I tried to send through the Bond, but the connection felt muffled, distant, like shouting into a void. Chase, please—
"Your mate can't hear you," Dr. Vane said, noticing my desperate attempt. "The poison suppresses Bond connections. One of its more useful properties. By the time the effect wears off enough for him to sense your distress, you'll be long dead."
He checked his watch with casual precision.
"I'd say you have perhaps five minutes before the respiratory paralysis becomes complete. Then another minute or two before brain death. Efficient, really."
I'm going to die, I realized, the truth settling over me with terrible finality. I'm going to die here, alone, and Chase will never know it was murder.
Tears leaked from my eyes, the only part of me that could still move. I thought of Chase, of the future we'd planned, of all the things I'd never get to say.
I'm so sorry, I tried to send through the Bond one last time. I should have trusted you. I should have told you. I love you. I'm so sorry—
Dr. Vane was gathering his materials, preparing to leave, when the chapel door exploded inward with a sound like thunder.
Through my blurring vision, I saw three figures burst through—
"WYNTER!"