Chapter 27 Not my pack, not my problem
Nyxara
“Alright, say ahh! Look up and we go! Adnan, sit your furry little butt down before I tie you to the chair!”
The pups scattered like leaves in a storm, giggling and yipping as they darted between the colorful plastic tables. One of them—a tiny girl with mismatched socks and a bandage on her knee—tugged at the hem of my black leather jacket, violet eyes wide and trusting.
“Miss Nyx, will you read the dragon story again?”
I crouched down to her level, forcing my tail to stop its irritated flicking. Kids. Why did it always have to be kids?
“Not right now, runt,” I said, softening the words with a quick ruffle of her dark curls. “Medicine first, stories after. Open up.”
She obeyed instantly, sticking out her tongue with exaggerated drama. I tipped the dropper—some cherry-flavored antibiotic Steven had left labeled in his neat handwriting—and watched her swallow without complaint.
Good kid. Too good. The kind that made my skin crawl because I remembered being that small. That trusting.
I straightened, wiping the dropper on a tissue and tossing it into the bin harder than necessary.
This wasn’t supposed to be my life.
Two weeks ago I’d been slipping through the fortress vents like smoke, eavesdropping on Elder Darius and his greasy little circle, triple-checking my payment for spying on the Devil’s new mate. Easy money. Clean. No feelings involved.
Then Steven—sweet, overworked Steven from the children’s ward in the central pack hospital—had cornered me after I’d delivered the intel on that director. The one who’d been “too friendly” with the patients. The one I’d been paid to identify.
Turned out I’d named the right bastard. Steven had been relieved, grateful, and apparently desperate enough to ask a favor from a succubus he barely knew.
“Just one shift, Nyx. Please. I finally got a date with Lila—she’s the moonlight nurse from the third floor—and if I cancel again she’ll never speak to me again.”
I’d opened my mouth to tell him to piss off.
Instead I’d heard myself say, “Fine. One shift. But you owe me double if any of them bite.”
Now here I was, surrounded by snot-nosed werewolf pups in a brightly painted ward that smelled like antiseptic and crayons, pretending I wasn’t cataloguing every adult who walked through the door.
Because the director wasn’t the only one.
I’d noticed it the first hour.
The way one of the male orderlies lingered too long adjusting a pup’s blanket. The way a certain volunteer always volunteered for bath time. The way some of the quieter kids flinched when certain footsteps approached.
I knew the signs. I’d lived them.
My tail lashed once, sharp enough to make the nearest pup squeak and hide behind a stuffed wolf.
“Miss Nyx?” The little bandaged girl was back, holding up her drawing from earlier. “For you. Because you have a tail like a dragon.”
It was me—crude purple horns, red eyes, black wings I definitely didn’t have, and a long violet tail curled protectively around a circle of smaller wolves.
My throat went tight.
I took the paper with careful fingers, like it might burn me.
“Thanks, kid,” I managed.
She beamed and ran off.
I folded the drawing once, twice, and slipped it into my inner pocket—right over the spot where my heart was supposed to be.
The ward door opened again. Steven’s replacement nurse—this one a tired-looking beta with kind eyes—stuck her head in.
“Nyxara? Director wants to see you in his office. Says it’s about extending your volunteer hours.”
My smile was all teeth.
“Tell him I’ll be right there.”
I looked back at the pups—one of them waving shyly, another pretending to roar like the dragon in the story I’d read three times already.
Something cold and old shifted in my chest.
This wasn’t just a shift anymore.
This was personal.
And when I walked into that director’s office?He was going to learn exactly what happened when someone like me decided to bite.
The door to his office was heavy oak, polished to a shine that screamed “respectable.” I pushed it open without knocking, letting it swing wide enough to announce me. The room was all soft edges: bookshelves lined with medical journals, a window overlooking the hospital gardens where pups played under watchful eyes, and those damn framed photos everywhere—him shaking hands with donors, him hugging kids at charity events. It was a performance, and I knew one when I saw it.
He looked up from his desk, where he was flipping through a file, and set it aside with a deliberate slowness. His smile was warm, the kind that fools parents into trusting him with their little ones.
“Nyxara,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. “Thanks for coming so quickly. Have a seat. Can I get you something? Coffee? Water?”
I stayed by the door, arms crossed, tail flicking just once. “I’m good standing. What’s this about extending volunteer hours? Steven’s back soon—I’m not sticking around.”
He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. “Ah, straight to business. I like that. But let’s be honest—this isn’t really about volunteer hours, is it?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Then what is it about?”
He picked up a pen, twirling it between his fingers like we had all day. “You’re sharp. I’ve heard things about you. Succubus with a knack for finding out what people don’t want found. Contracts in the fortress shadows, that sort of thing.” He paused, watching me. “Someone sent you here, didn’t they? Paid you to sniff around my hospital. Look for dirt.”
My pulse ticked up, but I kept my face blank. “You’re imagining things. I’m just covering for Steven. Favor for a friend.”
He laughed again—genuine this time, like I’d told a good joke. “Come on, Nyxara. We both know that’s bullshit. You’ve been watching. Noticing the little things. The way certain staff linger a bit too long. The flinches from the quieter pups.” He set the pen down, his voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. “You found what you were looking for. Me.”
I shifted my weight, claws itching under my skin. “And if I did?”
His smile didn’t fade, but his eyes hardened. “Then we can make this easy. Or hard.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a thick envelope, placing it on the desk with a soft thud. “Double what they’re paying you. You go back, tell them it was Jenkins—the orderly with the shaky hands and the debts piling up. He’s got a history. It’ll stick. No one digs deeper.”
I eyed the envelope. Felt the pull of it. “Why Jenkins?”
He shrugged, casual as if we were discussing the weather. “He’s convenient. And expendable. You know how this works—throw someone under the bus, problem solved.”
“And if I say no?” I asked, stepping closer now, voice low. “If I decide to burn this place down instead?”
He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, that grandfatherly warmth cracking just enough to show the wolf underneath. “Then we have a problem. See, I did my homework on you too. That rope in the snow? The old Alpha cutting you down? That’s the story everyone knows. But there’s more, isn’t there?”
My blood went cold. I froze mid-step.
He tilted his head, like he was sharing a sad little secret. “Three boys, wasn’t it? The ones who strung you up. Everyone says they disappeared after—ran off, scared of what the Alpha might do. But they didn’t run, did they? You tracked them down. One by one. Made sure they’d never touch another kid again.”
I swallowed hard, the room tilting just a fraction. “You don’t know shit.”
“Oh, I know plenty,” he said softly, almost sympathetically. “Connections in low places. Old reports from the border packs. A body here, a disappearance there. No one connected the dots because, well, who cares about a few street rats? But I do. And if that gets out… you think the fortress will protect you? You’ll be the monster they hang next time. No trial. No mercy. Just another succubus who couldn’t control her demons.”
The air felt thick, pressing in. My tail lashed once, sharp against the floor.
He nudged the envelope closer. “Or… you take this. Double the pay. Give them Jenkins. Walk away clean. You don’t mix your past with business, right? Smart girl like you knows that. These pups? They’ll bounce back. Kids always do. And your secret stays buried with mine.”
I stared at him for a long beat. The envelope sat there, fat and tempting. Enough to vanish if I needed to. Enough to forget.
I reached out. Picked it up.
His smile returned, full force. “Knew you’d see reason.”
“Not my pack,” I muttered, tucking it into my jacket. “Not my problem.”
“Exactly,” he said, leaning back again. “We understand each other. Now go enjoy the rest of your shift. Those kids adore you.”
I turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind me like a cage locking.
Back in the ward, the pups were winding down for nap time. One of them—the tiny girl with the mismatched socks and the bandaged knee—ran straight to me the second I stepped through the door.
“Miss Nyx! You came back!”
She threw her arms around my legs, hugging tight, face pressed to my thigh.
I froze.
Her little arms squeezed harder, trusting. Warm.
I stood there like an idiot for a full three seconds before awkwardly patting her head.
Steven walked in right then, cheeks flushed, eyes bright from whatever date had gone well.
“Nyx! You’re a lifesaver. Seriously. How were they?”
“Fine,” I said, gently untangling the girl from my legs. “No bites.”
The pups crowded around for goodbyes—waving, roaring their tiny dragon roars, one shy boy pressing a crumpled flower into my hand.
I said goodbye to each of them, voice steady, face blank.
Then I walked out.
Didn’t look back.
The ride home was a blur. The envelope sat heavy in my jacket, burning a hole straight through to my skin.
My apartment was dark when I got in—quiet, cold, exactly how I liked it.
I ran the bath, steam filling the small space, and stripped out of my clothes. The money went on the counter, still unopened.
I sank into the water, letting it scald.
Silence.
Blessed, empty silence.
My hand brushed the inner pocket of my discarded jacket. The folded drawing slid out—the one the little girl had given me earlier. Purple horns, red eyes, violet tail curled protectively around smaller wolves.
Dragon Nyx, saving the day.
I stared at it for a long time.
The water cooled around me.
Should I report?
Should I not?
The money was right there. Double. Clean. Safe.
I stood up, dripping, walked naked to the trash bin, and dropped the drawing inside.
It landed face-up, those trusting crayon eyes staring at the ceiling.
I closed the lid.
Not my pack.
Not my problem.
I crawled into bed, pulled the covers over my head, and waited for sleep that didn’t come.