Dahlia’s POV
The interior of the SUV felt like a trap. Outside, the city lights blurred into long, neon streaks as Nate pushed the car to its limits, but inside, the air was heavy and stagnant.
Nate gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were bone-white. He slled of rain and suppressed rage, a sharp scent that filled the small space.
I sat in the passenger seat with my hands folded in my lap. I looked like a calm, professional doctor, but my heart was drumming against my ribs. I wondered if he could hear it. I wondered if he could sll the lie I was holding onto with everything I had.
"Mark Vance," Nate said suddenly. He didn’t look at . "You said he was a doctor."
"He was," I replied. I kept my voice flat, stripping away any emotion. "An oncologist. He was a good man, Nate. He didn’t care about ranks or power. He just wanted to help people live."
"And he just happened to have children who look exactly like ?" Nate let out a dark, breathless laugh. "I’m not a fool, Dahlia. I felt it. The mont I stood in that garden, my wolf didn’t just see kids. He saw his own blood."
I turned my head slowly, eting his icy blue gaze for the first ti since we’d left the house. "That’s the problem with you, Nate. You think your ’wolf’ is a god. You think every gut feeling is a divine truth. But science doesn’t care about your instincts. Dark hair and blue eyes aren’t exclusive to your bloodline! It’s a coincidence, nothing more."
"It’s not just the hair," he hissed, swerving around a slow-moving truck. "It’s the presence. One of the boys... I wish I knew his na; he looked at with my own eyes and he judged . He didn’t act like a human child. He acted like an Alpha in waiting."
"He’s a child who lost his father and had to grow up fast," I hit back, my voice sharpening. "He protects because he has seen struggle. Don’t project your desire for a legacy onto my son just because you’re drowning in guilt. It’s pathetic."
Nate growled. It was a low, guttural sound that shook the floorboards of the car. Six years ago, that sound would have made whimper and hide. Now, it just made feel a cold, hollow sense of pity.
"Why didn’t you co back?" he asked. His voice suddenly dropped, losing its edge and turning into sothing raw. "If you were in trouble, if you were alone... why didn’t you send word? You knew I would have provided for you."
"Provided for ?" I chuckled dryly.
I felt a spark of real anger break through my mask. "Like you ’provided’ for the night you rejected in front of the whole pack? I didn’t want your money, Nate. I wanted my dignity. And I found it the second I crossed your border."
"I searched for you," he insisted. He sounded like a man who was bleeding out. "I sent trackers. I spent months looking for a girl in a thin coat. I didn’t think to look for a world-class surgeon with a new na and a life I wasn’t allowed to see."
"You were looking for the girl you could control," I said, turning back to the window. "She died in the woods six years ago. Dr. Willow is the one in this car. And she’s only here because a man is dying."
We hit the boundary of the Silver-Crest lands. The smooth asphalt of the city gave way to the rugged, forest-lined roads of the pack. The air shifted, growing thick with the scent of pine and the heavy power of the territory. I felt a chill.
"The Elder is in the west wing," Nate said, his tone shifting back to a command as the pack house ca into view. "The equipnt you asked for is ready. My dics are stumped. They say the silver is rotting him from the inside out."
"Because it’s a rejection, not an infection," I said, my professional brain taking over. "Shifters can handle almost anything, but silver attracts bad energy. If he’s been exposed to dark magic or bad herbs, the silver will bind to it and rot the tissue."
Nate pulled the SUV to a screeching halt. He was out of the door before the engine stopped, rounding the car to open mine. He reached for my arm, but I pulled away before he could touch .
"Don’t," I warned. "In this building, I am your superior. You will call Doctor, and you will stay out of my way."
He stood there, his chest heaving, looking like he wanted to scream. But he stepped back and gave a tight nod. "Yes, Doctor."
I walked into the pack house. The sll of it hit like a punch to the gut; the scent of my nightmares. But I didn’t falter. I reached into my bag, pulled out my wig and my mask, and fitted them into place.
We entered the surgical suite, Gina was there, standing in a corner, looking pale and frantic. When she saw with Nate, her eyes narrowed with a sharp, ugly suspicion.
"You’re late, Doctor," she snapped. "The Elder is fading. Nate, why did you take so long to fetch her?"
Nate didn’t even look at her. He was staring at my face, rather, my mask. "She’s here now. That’s all that matters."
"Is it?" Gina walked toward us, her scent slling of fake flowers and sothing sour. "You look different, Doctor. Less composed. Did sothing happen in the city?"
I didn’t answer her. I walked straight to the scrub sink. Elder Thomas looked like a ghost on the table, his vitals were flatlining.
"Out," I said. My voice echoed in the sterile room.
"Excuse ?" Gina gasped.
"Everyone who is not essential to this surgery, get out," I commanded. I looked right at her through the mask. "The Luna is a distraction, and the Alpha is a liability. I need silence to work."
I could say whatever I pleased, the life of an essential pack mber lied in my hands.
"Nate!" Gina turned to him, but he didn’t move.
He looked at the dying man, then at . I could see the conflict in his eyes; the man who wanted the truth about his kids, and the Alpha who needed his pack saved.
"You heard her," Nate said, his voice cold and final. "Everyone out. Now."
As the room cleared, I caught a whiff of Gina’s scent as she passed . It was that sa sour sll, but stronger now. It wasn’t perfu. It was the sll of sothing rotting.
I picked up my scalpel. I had twenty-four hours to save a life, but I was also subconsciously looking for evidence. I was going to cut the rot out of this pack, starting with her.
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