Chapter 3: The Poison in His Veins

The packhouse doors slammed shut behind them with a finality that rattled Aria’s bones.

She was dragged through a labyrinth of corridors, past wolves who stopped mid-step to stare. Their eyes tracked her like she was carrion dropped into a den of predators. The scent of pine and blood and something ancient clung to the walls, suffocating her.

Kael didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His grip on her arm was a manacle of flesh and bone, and the slow circle his thumb still traced against her wrist felt like a brand.

*Claiming her.*

The thought clawed at her chest. She yanked her arm, but his hold only tightened.

“Don’t,” he said, voice low and rough. “Not here.”

Not here. As if there were a place where her defiance would be welcome.

They stopped outside a heavy oak door. The copper scent of blood was stronger now, curling into her nostrils, familiar in a way that made her stomach clench. Kael pushed the door open and pulled her inside.

The room was a sickroom. Herbs hung from the rafters, their fragrance failing to mask the rot beneath. A fire crackled in the hearth, throwing orange light across the figure on the bed. He was young—barely past his first shift, she guessed—with dark hair plastered to a sweat-slick forehead. His chest heaved with shallow, rattling breaths. Black veins spiderwebbed from his throat down beneath the collar of his shirt, pulsing like living things.

Aria stopped dead.

She knew those veins. She knew that smell—sweet and cloying, like rotting flowers soaked in honey.

“He was fine yesterday,” Kael said, releasing her arm. The sudden absence of his touch was a cold shock. “Last night, he collapsed. The healers say it’s poison. They say he’ll be dead by dawn.”

Aria didn’t move. Her eyes were locked on the beta’s face, on the way his eyelids fluttered, revealing whites shot through with black.

“Look at me,” Kael commanded.

She did. His jaw was tight, his eyes burning with something she couldn’t name. Desperation? Rage? Both?

“You’re a healer,” he said. “The Shadowmoon pack’s finest. Don’t deny it. I’ve seen the mark on your palm.”

Aria’s hand curled into a fist. The crescent-shaped scar on her palm—the healer’s brand—throbbed as if in acknowledgment.

“I’m a prisoner,” she said. “Not a servant.”

Kael stepped closer. The heat of him washed over her, and her body betrayed her, leaning in a fraction before she caught herself.

“You’re whatever I say you are,” he murmured. “And right now, you’re the only thing standing between my beta and death. So heal him, Aria. Or I’ll give you a reason to wish I’d killed you instead.”

The threat should have terrified her. Instead, it lit a fire in her chest—fury, bright and reckless.

“You think I can heal this?” She laughed, bitter and sharp. “Your healers are fools if they haven’t recognized it. This isn’t a common poison, Alpha. It’s hexthorn. And it doesn’t come from any plant in your territory.”

Kael went still.

“Hexthorn,” he repeated. “You’ve seen it before.”

Aria turned back to the bed. Her hands trembled as she reached for the beta’s wrist, pressing two fingers to his pulse. It fluttered beneath her touch like a trapped bird. The black veins had spread further in the minutes they’d been talking. Whatever was killing him was accelerating.

“I’ve seen it,” she said quietly. “Three years ago. A hunting party from my pack was ambushed. Two of them died before we figured out what it was. The rest… we saved.”

Hope flickered in Kael’s eyes. “Then you can cure him.”

“I can,” Aria said. “But the antidote requires moonpetal root, and that only grows in the Shadowmoon territory. In the sacred grove. Which means you’d have to send someone there, and they’d have to be granted access by my father—who will never agree to help the pack that took his daughter.”

Silence.

Then Kael smiled. It was a terrible thing to behold—all teeth, no warmth.

“Then it’s fortunate,” he said, “that I have his daughter right here.”

Aria’s blood turned to ice. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ll send you back.”

“He’ll kill me.” The words tore from her throat. “The moment I step foot in Shadowmoon territory without the tribute he demanded, he’ll execute me for failure.”

Kael tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle he was close to solving. “Then you’d better find a way to make him help you, little healer. Because if my beta dies, I will burn your precious grove to the ground—and everyone in it.”

The beta groaned on the bed, a wet, choking sound. Aria looked at him, at the black veins creeping toward his heart, and felt something crack inside her. She hated this pack. She hated Kael with every fiber of her being. But she had sworn an oath the day she’d received her brand. *To heal, to mend, to serve the moon’s will.*

She couldn’t let him die. Even if saving him meant walking back into the den of the monster who had sold her.

“I’ll need supplies,” she said, her voice hollow. “Wolfsbane, silverleaf, and something to burn the poison out. And I’ll need to travel fast—tonight.”

Kael nodded slowly. “You’ll leave at dawn.”

“Dawn will be too late. His heart will fail by midnight.”

Something shifted in his expression. A crack in the granite. “Then you leave now.”

He turned toward the door, and Aria grabbed his arm before she could stop herself. The contact sent a shock through her, electric and unwanted.

“You’re sending me alone?” she demanded. “Into enemy territory? What’s to stop me from running the moment I’m out of your sight?”

Kael looked down at her hand on his arm. Then his gaze rose to her face, and the hunger there made her breath catch.

“Because,” he said softly, “if you run, I’ll hunt you. And when I find you—and I will find you, Aria—I’ll make you watch as I tear apart everyone you’ve ever loved.”

He pulled free of her grip and opened the door.

“Besides,” he added, glancing back over his shoulder, “I’m coming with you.”

Aria stared at him. “You can’t. The Shadowmoon wolves will sense an Alpha from a mile away. They’ll attack on sight.”

Kael’s smile returned, sharper now. “Then I suppose we’ll have to find a way to disguise me.”

He stepped into the corridor, and the door swung shut behind him, leaving Aria alone with the dying beta and the terrifying realization that the Alpha wasn’t just claiming her.

He was making her complicit. Binding her to him with chains of blood and duty that she couldn’t break without destroying herself in the process.

On the bed, the beta’s breath rattled. The black veins pulsed.

And somewhere deep in the packhouse, a wolf howled—a long, mournful sound that felt like a prophecy.