Chapter 10
Ellie's POV
I needed to figure out who was behind this and how much they knew, but first things first—I had to treat this wound before the silver poisoning spread further through my system. A werewolf with silver toxicity wouldn't be able to investigate anything.
The pain in my shoulder wasn't subsiding. If anything, it felt worse as I stumbled across campus, trying to keep pressure on the wound without drawing attention. The silver candelabra had left an angry, blistering mark that throbbed with each heartbeat. I needed to clean it, disinfect it, and apply the special salve Mom had given me for "emergencies."
This definitely counts as an emergency.
I briefly considered heading back to my dorm, but quickly dismissed the idea. My roommates would be useless in this situation. They were computer science majors who coded their way through problems, not patched up injuries.
The campus health center was my only option. They'd at least have proper supplies, and I could make up some excuse about the wound.
By the time I reached the health center, my shirt was sticking to the wound. The receptionist took one look at me clutching my shoulder and ushered me straight into an exam room.
"What happened?" The nurse practitioner asked, helping me remove my jacket.
"I, um, burned myself on a... metal art project." The lie sounded weak even to my ears.
She frowned when she saw the wound. "This looks serious. What kind of metal was it?"
"I'm not sure. I have some metal allergies though."
She cleaned around the edges of the burn with gentle movements. "You might need stitches. And we should run some blood tests to check for—"
"No!" I said too quickly, then forced myself to calm down. My heart was racing at the thought of them drawing my blood. I'd heard horror stories from Mom about werewolves who'd been exposed through routine blood tests—the unusual cell structures, the elevated hormone levels during the lunar cycle. "I mean, I just need it cleaned and bandaged. I have medication at home for my allergies."
She looked skeptical. "At minimum, we need to properly disinfect this and dress it. I strongly recommend—"
"Just the supplies," I insisted. "Please. I have a... family doctor who handles my condition."
After some back-and-forth, she reluctantly cleaned the wound and gave me sterile gauze, medical tape, and antiseptic. I left some cash on the counter and hurried out before she could insist on anything else.
I found a secluded spot behind the music building, hands shaking as I tried to figure out how to bandage my own shoulder. The angle was impossible—I couldn't see what I was doing, and every time I raised my arm, pain shot through my entire upper body.
"Need some help with that?"
I jumped, nearly dropping the gauze. A tall guy with dark hair stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets. The moment our eyes met, something electric shot through me, momentarily making me forget the pain in my shoulder.
He was striking—tall with sharp cheekbones and intense eyes that seemed to see right through me. My breath caught as he stepped closer, and for one wild, heart-stopping moment, I wondered if he could be my mate—that mythical perfect match my mother had told me about.
Interesting, Thalia purred inside me, suddenly alert and curious, but not with the overwhelming certainty I'd been told to expect when meeting a true mate. She was intrigued, maybe even attracted, but not claiming him as ours.
I inhaled deeply, trying to catch his scent, but detected nothing wolfish about him—just a pleasant, entirely human smell of soap and faint cologne. Not a werewolf then. I pushed down my irrational disappointment.
"I'm fine," I said automatically, even as I fumbled with the tape.
He raised an eyebrow. "Clearly. That's why you're hiding behind a building trying to bandage a wound you can't reach."
I sighed, too exhausted to argue. "Fine. Yes, I could use some help."
He approached cautiously, like I was a wounded animal that might bolt. Maybe I was. He knelt beside me and took the supplies. "I'm Jackson, by the way."
"Ellie."
His hands were surprisingly gentle as he applied the antiseptic. "Med student," he explained, noticing my surprise. "Second year. This isn't my first emergency patch-up job."
Of course he wasn't a freshman. If Jackson had been in my year, Lucas definitely wouldn't have claimed the "Campus Heartthrob" title in those ridiculous dorm surveys Lily kept showing me. I bit my lip to stop from smiling at the thought, despite the sting of antiseptic.
I winced as he cleaned deeper into the wound.
"Sorry," he murmured. "It needs to be thorough. This looks... unusual."
I tensed. "It's just a burn."
"Hmm." He worked in silence for a moment. "You know, silver burns need special treatment."
My heart stopped. "What did you say?"
Jackson met my eyes, his expression unreadable. "This is a silver burn. And based on your reaction, you already know that." He finished securing the bandage with medical tape. "Do you have the proper salve for it? Regular antibiotics won't help much."
I stared at him, mind racing. How did he know what a silver burn looked like? How did he know about special treatments? Only someone who knew about...
Thalia? I called inwardly to my wolf. Can you smell anything? Is he... like us?
I felt her stir within me, that familiar presence sharpening her senses as she tried to detect any trace of another werewolf. After a moment, I felt her confusion and uncertainty.
No clear scent, she seemed to convey. Not like pack.
That was troubling. If she couldn't tell what Jackson was, that meant he was either hiding his nature incredibly well, or he was something else entirely.
"I have salve at home," I finally managed to say, my voice barely audible.
Jackson nodded, helping me gather the remaining supplies. "Use it generously. And if you need anything else..." He hesitated. "Well, let's just say I understand more than you might think."
He wrote his number on the back of a dance society flyer and handed it to me. "Text me if the pain gets worse. Or if you just want to talk." A small smile touched his lips. "It's not easy carrying secrets."
Before I could respond, he was walking away, leaving me with a properly bandaged shoulder and a million questions swirling in my mind.
Was Jackson like me? Or was he something else entirely—someone who hunted my kind?