Chapter 40

Chapter 40


I awoke with a start, disoriented by white walls and the sharp scent of antiseptic. For a moment, I couldn't remember how I'd gotten here or why my body ached as though I'd been trampled by a herd of elk. Then it all came rushing back—Lena's nightmare, her midnight run, the attack, her silver fur matted with blood.

"Lena!" I shouted, bolting upright despite the pain that lanced through my side. "Where is she? Where's my Luna?"

A healer rushed to my bedside, trying to ease me back down. "Alpha, please. You need to rest—"

I grabbed his wrist, squeezing until he winced. "Where. Is. She?"

He gestured to my right, and only then did I notice the bed beside mine. Lena lay there, still in human form now, her skin as pale as moonlight against the white sheets. An IV dripped fluids and blood into her arm, and bandages wrapped her torso where the rogue had bitten her.

"When did she shift back?" I demanded, already swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

"We helped her transition about three hours ago," the healer explained, no longer trying to stop me. "It was safer once the poison was neutralized."

I ignored the pain in my own body as I moved to her bedside, taking her small hand in mine. It felt cold, lifeless, though I could see the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the hospital gown.

"Why isn't she waking up?" My voice cracked on the question, revealing more than I intended.

The healer—Tomas, I remembered now—approached cautiously. "Alpha, she lost a tremendous amount of blood. Her body is conserving energy to heal. Dr. Mara believes she will wake up, but it may take time."

I sank into the chair beside her bed, still clutching her hand as if it were a lifeline. Looking at her face, so peaceful it might have been mistaken for sleep if not for the unnatural stillness, I felt something crack open inside me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. "I should have been there sooner. I should have protected you better. This is my fault. All of it."

Tomas cleared his throat awkwardly. "Alpha, you need rest as well. You collapsed from exhaustion after spending the night in your wolf form."

"I'm fine," I cut him off. "Leave us."

Alone with Lena, I let my guard down completely.

The door burst open without warning, and I registered three unfamiliar scents before I even turned. A middle-aged couple rushed in, followed by a younger man who bore a striking resemblance to Lena. Her family—I recognized them from the photographs in her quarters, though we had never met.

"Lena!" her mother cried, rushing to the opposite side of the bed. "Oh my God, my baby!"

Her father's face darkened with rage as he took in the scene—his daughter unconscious, hooked to machines, with me holding her hand.

"What happened to her?" he demanded, his voice hardening as he looked directly at me. "You were supposed to protect her!"

I stood slowly, careful not to disturb Lena. "Mr. Blackwood—"

"Don't," he spat. "Don't you dare try to explain. We trusted you with our daughter. You promised she would be safe as your Luna!"

"Dad," the brother—Ethan, I recalled—put a restraining hand on his father's arm. "Let's hear what happened."

I took a deep breath, forcing calm into my voice. "Lena was attacked by rogue wolves at our northern border. She fought bravely—"

"Fought?" her mother interrupted, horror in her voice. "She shouldn't have been fighting at all! That's what you and your guards are for!"

"She went for a run. I..." I hesitated, the admission painful. "I wasn't with her. By the time I arrived, she had already taken down three rogues, but she was injured."

"You weren't with her?" Mr. Blackwood's face flushed with fury. "What kind of Alpha leaves his Luna unprotected?"

"She wanted space," I said quietly. "I was trying to respect that."

"Respect?" he roared. Before I could react, he lunged forward, his fist connecting with my chest directly over the wound I'd received from one of the rogues. Pain exploded through me, but I didn't flinch, accepting the blow as my due.

My guards burst into the room, grabbing Mr. Blackwood and pulling him back. "Release him," I ordered immediately. "Let him go."

They obeyed reluctantly, though they remained tense, ready to intervene again.

"Mr. Blackwood," I said, meeting his gaze steadily, "I failed your daughter. You have every right to your anger. But I promise you this—I will find who sent those rogues and make them pay with their blood."

"And what good will that do if she doesn't wake up?" Mrs. Blackwood sobbed, clutching Lena's hand.

Before I could respond, the door opened again, and Aaron, my head of security, appeared. "Alpha," he said, his expression grim, "we've captured one of them. He's in the cells."

A cold rage settled over me, pushing aside pain and grief. "Watch over her," I instructed the family, my eyes lingering on Lena's still face.

As I strode through the pack compound toward the detention cells, pack members stepped aside, averting their eyes from the fury they must have seen on my face. My body protested the movement, but I ignored it, focused entirely on the prospect of answers—and revenge.

The rogue was young, barely more than a teenager, with matted brown hair and defiant eyes. He sat in the corner of the cell, watching as I entered.

"Who sent you?" I demanded without preamble.

To my surprise, he laughed—a wild, unhinged sound. "The silver bitch still alive? Pity. Won't be for long, though."

I moved faster than he could track, lifting him by the throat and slamming him against the wall. "Who. Sent. You."

He gasped but managed another laugh. "It's all because of her, you know. We can't allow her to live."

I leaned in close, letting him see the predator in my eyes. "I'm giving you one last chance. Tell me who sent you, or you'll beg for death long before I grant it."

"Go to hell," he spat.

Something snapped inside me. I grabbed him, throwing him across the cell. Before he could recover, I was on him, claws extended, slashing across his chest. "The name!"

He screamed but remained defiant. For over an hour, I extracted my rage and fear on his body, using every technique I had learned in decades of combat, but his fanaticism proved stronger than his survival instinct. Finally, covered in his blood and my own reopened wounds, I left him broken but still refusing to reveal his master.

I returned to the hospital wing, body throbbing with pain, hands washed but still feeling the stickiness of blood. Lena's family had been moved to guest quarters to rest, leaving her alone. I resumed my vigil at her bedside, taking her hand once more.

As night fell, I studied her face in the dim light. Even pale and injured, she was breathtakingly beautiful—not just her physical features, but the strength and compassion I had glimpsed in her. The way she challenged me. The way she made me want to be better.

"I would rather it was me lying there," I whispered, surprising myself with the truth of it. "I would take your place in a heartbeat if I could."

The realization shook me to my core. I, who had always put myself and the pack's interests above all else, would willingly sacrifice myself for this woman. When had that happened? How had she slipped past all my defenses and become so essential to my existence?