The smell of herbs and blood persisted in the air as the healers gingerly put Alistair onto a stretcher. They moved precisely, yet their expressions were tense. The worst was over thanks to Harriet's intervention, but his body remained weak. He needed to rest.
Harriet stood unsteadily, her body wobbling with tiredness. Her hands, still soiled with the remnants of her work, ached after hours spent stitching, sealing wounds, and reviving Alistair. But as the healers approached the chamber's exit, bringing Alistair away, a terrible panic gripped her chest.
"I'm coming with you," she responded, already starting to follow because she had an inexplicable and overwhelming want to be near him.
A powerful but soft hand grabbed her wrist. "No, my dear," the Grand Luna said, her voice firm. Harriet turned and looked up at her mother-in-law. The elder woman's keen stare softened as she noticed the heavy circles beneath Harriet's eyes and how her shoulders trembled from tiredness.
"But—"
"No," the Grand Luna said with determination. "You have done enough. "You saved him." She raised a hand to cup Harriet's face, her thumb resting against the hollow behind her eye. "Look at you." "You can barely stand."
The Grand Luna arched an eyebrow. "You'll collapse before you reach his bedside."
Harriet gulped hard. She knew the elder woman was correct, but the notion of leaving Alistair's side, even for a second, was agonizing. The Grand Luna clasped her hand as she realized she was in distress. "Child, trust the healers. And trust me, "He will be watched over." "I will send a maid to wake you when he stirs," the Grand Luna said, gently pulling her up. "You need sleep, child."
Harriet hesitated, her eyes lingering on Alistair's face. Then, with a slow nod, she allowed herself to be led away, her steps sluggish. As she disappeared down the hall, the Grand Luna turned back to her son, watching over him with an expression torn between relief and silent gratitude.
Meanwhile...
Scarlett stood at the far end of the hallway, her nails digging into her palms as she watched the pack members whisper in awe. Harriet had done the impossible—she had saved Alistair's life, the very man Scarlett had sworn should belong to her. She wanted to scream, but she could only clench her teeth and swallow her fury. The hallway was no place for an outburst, as the Grand Luna and other members of the pack were nearby.
Scarlett twisted on her heel, her heels clicking fiercely on the marble floor, and rushed out of the palace. By the time she arrived at her house, a respectable residence outside the palace grounds, her fury had boiled over. She kicked open the door, causing it to crash against the wall. With a scowl, she grabbed the nearest chair and threw it across the room. It splintered on the distant wall. The table came next, overturned with a harsh, satisfying shatter. Her chest heaved, wrath coursing through her veins.
A harsh, guttural snarl from her voice as she flung a porcelain vase against the far wall. It fractured into shards, particles falling like the remains of her shattered pride. She had spent years honing her position in this realm, perfecting every action and glance to ensure she stayed desirable, strong, and worthy of an Alpha's attention.
Alistair should've been hers. He would have been if not for the cursed promise made by Alistair's father and Harriet's grandpa. So, after Alistair and Harriet married, Scarlett was patient, utilizing every instrument at her disposal to weaken Harriet's position. She had turned the maids and pack warriors against her, made the elders question her authority, and even convinced the naive woman that she was an outcast in her own house.
Scarlett had been waiting two years for this moment. Two painful years of strategically placed rumors, whispered suspicions, and subtle attempts to turn the pack against Harriet. She had been so close—just a few more moves and Harriet would have been nothing more than a bad memory. But now... everything was disintegrating before her eyes.
Scarlett's claws instinctively extended, tearing deep grooves into the wooden vanity as she slammed her palms onto it, her breath ragged. Scarlett's shoulders rose and fell with rapid breaths. She had spent years picturing herself by Alistair's side, only for that woman (Harriet) to cement her place as his true mate.
"How?" Scarlett hissed under her breath, pacing back and forth like a caged predator. "How did that idiot suddenly gain the ability to heal people?
She wouldn't accept this. She couldn't. There had to be an explanation. That human didn't just magically become useful overnight. Scarlett took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She needed to find out exactly how Harriet had managed to save him. Because if she had some trick, some hidden talent, she needed to know.
"This isn't over," Scarlett murmured to herself, clenching her fists with lethal determination. If Harriet believed this win meant she had won, she was mistaken; there are still ways to pull them apart, and Scarlett is determined to find them.