(Alexander's POV)
She recoiled as if I'd struck her. "But—"
"Without concrete evidence of his innocence, I cannot interfere in another pack's internal affairs." I kept my voice firm despite the way her pain called to something deep inside me. "Even as Alpha King, there are protocols that must be followed."
"Please," she stood, swaying slightly. Benjamin moved to steady her, but my growl stopped him. "My father is dying in that cell. Ethan won't let me heal him anymore."
"Then bring me proof." I stepped closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. "Bring me evidence that can't be disputed, and I will act."
"How can I find evidence when I'm trapped here under your 'protection'?" Bitter anger crept into her voice.
Smart girl. She'd already figured out that my "asylum" would come with strict surveillance. "That's not my problem to solve."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. Strong. Defiant. Beautiful.
Ours, my wolf insisted
I turned away before I could do something stupid like wipe away those unshed tears. "Benjamin will show you to your quarters. You'll have freedom to move within the pack house, but guards will accompany you if you leave the building." I paused at the door. "For your own protection, of course."
"Of course," she echoed hollowly.
I left before my resolve could weaken, but her scent followed me down the corridor. Everything about her called to me – her strength, her vulnerability, the taste of her still haunting my lips. But I couldn't afford to trust blindly.
"Ryan," I called to my head of security, who had been waiting outside. "I want her watched at all times. Record everyone she talks to, everywhere she goes."
"You think she's a threat?"
I thought of her clever eyes, the way she'd deliberately omitted our night together from her story.
Maybe she's just a threat to me, I thought, watching Elena through the security feeds Benjamin had installed.
But for three days, she'd done... nothing. No attempts to contact her pack. No suspicious behavior. Just quiet compliance that made my wolf more restless with each passing hour.
"She hasn't left the pack house, my King," the guard reported during our morning briefing. "Spends most of her time in the library or the gardens."
What game was she playing? The Elena I'd glimpsed – both in that dark room and during our confrontation – wasn't the type to give up so easily. Not when her father's life hung in the balance.
"Keep watching," I ordered. "She's planning something."
But even my wolf seemed uncertain. Every time I caught her scent in the corridors, it called to something primal within me. Something that wanted to trust, to protect, to—
"Alpha King!" Benjamin's panicked voice cut through our pack link. "Ryan's been critically injured. The healers can't help him."
I was moving before he finished speaking, my wolf lending me speed as I raced to the courtyard. The scene that greeted me made my blood run cold.
Ryan lay on the ground, his normally jovial face contorted in pain. Black smoke seemed to rise from a deep wound in his chest, carrying a scent that made my wolf irritable. Around him, healers worked frantically, their powers sliding off the wound like water off oil.
"What happened?" My voice came out in a growl that made several pack members step back.
Benjamin approached, his usual calm demeanor shaken. "Rogue attack on the northern border. They had weapons we've never seen before." He gestured to Ryan's wound. "The injuries won't heal – they're getting worse."
I stood beside my friend. Ryan had been there since the beginning, his loyalty never wavering. Now his face was ashen, his breathing shallow.
Olivia, our head healer, sat back on her heels, sweat beading on her forehead. "It's like nothing I've ever encountered," she admitted. "The wound... it's consuming my healing power, turning it against itself."
Black magic. The same dark power I'd sensed in the drug the rogues had used on me during their ambush. This wasn't a random attack.
Ryan's body suddenly convulsed, black lines spreading from his wound like poison through his veins.
"He's deteriorating," Benjamin warned.
"Prepare my weapons," I stood, decision made. "I'll track these rogues myself. We need one of those weapons to understand what we're dealing with."
"My King, no!" Benjamin grabbed my arm – a liberty only he would dare. "It's obviously a trap. They wanted us to see their new weapons, to draw you out."
"Then they'll get what they—"
"Can I try?" The soft voice cut through the tension like a blade.
I turned to find Elena standing at the edge of the crowd, her expression determined despite her simple borrowed clothes.
Olivia shot to her feet. "You?" Her voice dripped with disdain. "What can you do if you don't even have a wolf?"
I watched Elena carefully. She ignored Olivia completely, her eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that made my wolf stir. There was no fear there, no uncertainty – only quiet confidence.
"Let her try." My command silenced the courtyard.
"King?!" Olivia's shock was almost comical. "She might make his condition worse! She's probably working with the rogues—"
I turned to her slowly, letting my Alpha power fill the air. "Do you have a better solution?"
Olivia wilted under my gaze, backing away with a muttered, "No, my King."
Elena approached Ryan's prone form, her movements sure and graceful. My wolf watched her intently, noting how she assessed the wound with professional detachment despite the horrific nature of the injury.
"I need snowblossom herb," Elena said quietly.
Olivia's laugh cut through the tense atmosphere. "That common weed? It grows everywhere. It's useless for wounds like this."
Elena ignored her, looking directly at me. Something in her steady gaze made me nod to the guards. "Get it."
While we waited, Elena pulled a small crystal vial from within her borrowed clothes. The liquid inside caught the sunlight, completely clear but somehow... different.
"Stop," I commanded as she began to mix it with the crushed herbs. "What is that?"
"A healing catalyst," she answered without hesitation. "My father's creation. He taught me how to use it."
Olivia stepped forward. "My King, we can't trust—"
A horrible choking sound from Ryan cut her off. Black veins were spreading up his neck, his skin taking on an ashen hue.
"Do it," I stepped back, letting my power fill my voice. "But if anything happens to him..."
"I'll need space," she said, not looking up. "And silence."
The authority in her voice made several pack members step back before even looking to me for confirmation. I nodded, and the crowd retreated further.
She didn't flinch at my threat. Her hands moved with practiced precision, mixing the herb and liquid into a paste. When she placed her hands on Ryan's wound, only the thinnest stream of healing light emerged.
"That's it?" Olivia sneered. "That pathetic amount of power?"
But then someone gasped. The black smoke was actually retreating, dissipating wherever Elena's light touched it. Yet I could see the toll it was taking on her. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her small frame trembling with effort.
Hours passed. The sun moved across the sky as Elena fought the darkness in Ryan's wound. Her face grew paler, her hands shaking, but she didn't stop. There was something mesmerizing about watching her work – such immense power housed in such a delicate form.
Strong, my wolf approved. Worthy.
Finally, the last of the black smoke vanished. Ryan's wound closed, leaving only fresh pink scar tissue behind. Elena swayed, her strength clearly spent.
She started to fall, twisting at the last moment to avoid landing face-first in the dirt. My body moved without conscious thought, catching her before she could hit the ground.
But her movement and my lunge brought us together at an angle I hadn't anticipated. Her lips brushed mine, soft and familiar, sending a jolt of electricity through my entire body. My wolf roared to life, recognizing her taste from that night in the darkness.
For one endless moment, we froze like that – her in my arms, our lips touching, her exhausted gasp mixing with my surprised intake of breath. I could feel her heart racing against my chest, matching the wild rhythm of my own.