Chapter 19 CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ALORA
The morning sun streams through the kitchen windows as I help prepare breakfast trays. My hands move automatically while my mind replays last night's interrogation. The way his silver eyes burned into mine, searching for truths I can't give him.
"Alora?" Sarah touches my arm. "You're bleeding."
I look down to find I've sliced my finger on a paring knife. Blood wells up bright red. Before Sarah can grab a bandage, the cut seals itself, skin knitting together in seconds.
Her eyes widen. "How did you—"
"Paper cut from earlier. Must have just looked worse than it was."
She doesn't believe me. But before she can press, a commotion erupts from the courtyard.
"Someone help! Please!"
We rush outside to find a crowd gathering. A young boy—maybe seven—lies crumpled on the ground, his leg bent at an unnatural angle. His mother kneels beside him, sobbing.
"He fell from the climbing wall," someone explains. "The bone's broken clean through."
Master Kane pushes through the crowd. "Get the pack doctor. Someone find Alpha Stone."
The boy screams, a sound that tears through my chest. His mother tries to comfort him, but her panic only makes things worse.
I shouldn't get involved. Should stay invisible. But the child's cries pull at something deep inside me.
Before I can stop myself, I'm kneeling beside him.
"Hey there," I say softly, brushing sweat-dampened hair from his forehead. "I'm Alora. What's your name?"
"T-Thomas," he gasps between sobs. "It hurts."
"I know, sweetheart." I take his small hand in mine. His mother's eyes flash with warning. Slaves don't touch pack children. "Can you look at me, Thomas? Right at me?"
His tear-filled eyes meet mine. "That's perfect. Now, tell me about your favorite thing. Do you have a favorite animal?"
"W-wolves," he hiccups. "I'm gonna be the b-biggest wolf when I shift."
"I bet you will be. What color will your fur be?"
As he talks, I let my power trickle through our joined hands. Just a little. Just enough to ease his pain without anyone noticing. His breathing steadies, the tears slow.
"My dad says I'll be silver like him," Thomas continues, voice growing stronger. "Or maybe black like Alpha Stone."
"You know what else is cool? How strong you're being right now."
"I'm not strong. I'm crying like a baby."
"Strong doesn't mean you don't cry. It means you're brave even when things hurt." I keep my voice low, channeling more healing energy. "And you're brave, Thomas."
The pack doctor arrives. "Everyone back. Let me—" He stops when he sees me. "What are you doing?"
"Just keeping him calm, sir." I start to pull away, but Thomas grips my hand.
"No! Don't leave!"
"Thomas," his mother says sharply. "Let go of her."
"Please," the boy begs. "You make it not hurt so bad."
The doctor kneels, examining the leg. His eyebrows draw together. "Strange. The swelling's already going down. And the bone..." He probes gently. "It's not as displaced as it should be."
My heart hammers. I've healed too much.
"Someone's coming," Sarah warns.
The crowd parts, and I don't need to look up to know who's approaching. His scent hits me first—pine and smoke and dominance that makes my wolf whine.
"Report." Alpha Stone's voice cuts through the murmurs.
"Training accident, my Lord," Master Kane explains.
"I can see what happened." He moves closer. "Doctor?"
"Broken femur, my Lord. I'll need to set it and—"
"The slave. What is she doing?"
"Keeping the child calm," the doctor says carefully. "He won't release her."
Silence stretches. Then, "Everyone except the doctor, leave. Now."
The crowd disperses. Thomas's mother hesitates.
"You too," Alpha Stone says, tone gentling slightly. "I'll ensure he's cared for."
Once we're alone—me, Thomas, the doctor, and him—the Alpha kneels on the boy's other side. This close, his power presses against me.
"Thomas," he says, warmth in his voice. "You've been brave. Can you be brave a little longer?"
"Yes, Alpha."
"Good man." His eyes finally meet mine. "And you. Keep doing whatever you're doing. He's calmer with you here."
I nod, not trusting my voice. The doctor works quickly, setting the bone. Thomas squeezes my hand hard, but I don't pull away. I let more healing energy flow, dulling the worst of the pain.
"There," the doctor announces, wrapping the leg. "It should heal in four to six weeks."
"Two weeks," Alpha Stone says, watching me. "Maybe less."
The doctor frowns. "My Lord, a break this severe—"
"Will heal faster than expected." His silver eyes pin me in place. "Won't it, little wolf?"
My mouth goes dry. He knows.
"I don't understand, my Lord."
"Don't you?" He reaches out, fingers brushing Thomas's leg where I've been channeling energy. "The swelling's reduced. The boy's breathing easier." He leans closer, voice dropping. "Almost as if someone's been healing him."
"I'm just holding his hand, my Lord. Keeping him calm like you said."
His lips curve. "Of course. How foolish of me." He stands, helping Thomas into his arms with surprising gentleness. "Doctor, take him to the medical wing."
"Yes, my Lord."
As they leave, Alpha Stone turns back. "You. My study. One hour."
ALEX
I carry Thomas through the pack house, his small body relaxed now. The boy's already drifting to sleep.
"Alpha Stone?" he mumbles. "Is Alora gonna get in trouble?"
"Why would she be in trouble?"
"Because she's a slave and she touched me. Mom says slaves aren't supposed to." His eyes flutter closed. "But she was nice. And she made the hurt stop."
Made the hurt stop. Not distracted him. Stopped it.
I settle him into a medical bed, staying until his mother arrives, before heading to the security office. "Pull up footage from the courtyard. The training accident. All angles."
I watch the scene unfold on multiple screens. The moment Alora kneels beside Thomas. The way she takes his hand, genuine concern softening her expression.
I zoom in on their joined hands. Thomas's face gradually shifts from agony to mere discomfort. By the time the doctor arrives, he's already improved.
"Rewind. Slow it down."
Frame by frame, I watch her face. The concentration in her eyes. The tension in her jaw. She's not just comforting him. She's channeling something. Healing him.
Blood-wolves were said to heal through touch.
My phone buzzes. Marcus.
Got the Mitchell pack records. You need to see this.
In the war room, he's spread documents across the table.
"Alora Mitchell," he begins. "Born during a blood moon. First shift at seventeen—unusually late. But here's what's interesting." He pulls out a medical report. "Six months before they gave her up, the pack doctor noted unusual scarring on her mother's hands. Burns consistent with handling silver."
"Why would a wolf handle silver?"
"Exactly. Unless they were using it to suppress something." Marcus meets my eyes. "There's more. Three wolves disappeared from their pack in the months before Alora arrived. All unmated males. All within days of the full moon."
My jaw clenches. "Her heat."
"If she's what we think, her heat would be..." He trails off.
Dangerous. Irresistible. Strong enough to drive unmated males to madness.
I look at the clock. She'll be at my study soon.
Time to stop playing games.
Time to make my little blood-wolf understand that running is no longer an option.