Chapter 4: The Healer’s Sin

The howl still echoed in Aria’s bones when Kael returned, his presence filling the doorway like a storm front. Blood matted the fur along his knuckles. His eyes, molten amber, found her immediately.

“You’re still here,” he said. Not a question. A verdict.

Aria stood beside the beta’s bed, her wrists raw from the silver chains he’d fastened before leaving. She’d stopped tugging hours ago. “Where would I go?”

He crossed the room in three strides, gripped her chin, tilted her face to the lamplight. His thumb brushed the bruise along her jaw—one of his own making, from the night he’d dragged her from the auction block. She flinched. He noticed. He always noticed.

“The pack healers are dead,” he said. “Rogue attack on the eastern border. Three of them. Gone.”

The words landed like stones in her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Be useful.” He released her, gestured at the beta. “Dorian’s fading. The infection’s spreading. If he dies, I lose my best tracker and my sister loses her mind. So.” His voice dropped, dangerous. “What do you know about healing?”

Her heart stuttered. “I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me.” He was on her again, faster than she could track, his hand wrapping around her throat. Not squeezing. Threatening. “I saw you in the holding cell. The guard’s hand. You touched him and the swelling vanished. I saw it.”

Aria’s pulse hammered against his palm. She’d been careless. Stupid. “It was nothing. Adrenaline. His hand wasn’t that bad.”

“Liar.” He said it almost tenderly. “I can smell the magic on you. Faint. Buried. Like something you’ve been hiding for a very long time.” His thumb stroked her pulse point. “You’re a healer. A real one. Not a hedge witch with poultices and prayers. You have the gift.”

She said nothing.

“Dorian dies tonight without you,” Kael said. “And when he dies, I’ll have no reason to keep you alive. You understand? You’re only valuable to me if you’re useful.”

The chains around her wrists felt tighter. He’d bound her to him with blood and duty that night in the black cell—his blood, her oath. She couldn’t leave even if she wanted to. And gods help her, some twisted part of her didn’t want to.

“Fine,” she whispered.

Kael stepped back. Nodded once.

Aria turned to Dorian. The beta’s skin was gray, slick with sweat. Black veins spidered from the wound in his side—a rogue’s claw, laced with poison. She’d seen this before. In another life. Another pack. Another patient she’d failed to save.

Not this time.

She pressed both palms to Dorian’s chest. Closed her eyes. And let the light in.

It rose from somewhere beneath her ribs—warm, golden, terrifying. It pulsed through her arms and into her hands, and she felt the infection recoil like a living thing. Dorian’s back arched. He gasped. The black veins writhed, then began to recede, inch by inch, like shadows fleeing dawn.

Aria’s knees buckled. Kael caught her before she hit the floor, his arm banding around her waist.

“Easy,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

For one treacherous moment, she let herself lean into him. His chest was warm. His scent—pine and smoke and something wild—wrapped around her like a promise.

Then the door slammed open.

“What the hell is going on?”

Sera stood in the doorway, her silver hair loose, her nightgown clinging to her curves. Kael’s sister. The pack’s self-appointed future Luna. Her eyes went from Dorian’s healing wound to Aria’s glowing palms to Kael’s arm around her waist—and something ugly twisted her beautiful face.

“She’s a witch,” Sera spat. “A rogue witch. You brought her into our home, Kael? Into our packhouse?”

“She saved Dorian’s life,” Kael said flatly.

“She’s a threat.” Sera stepped closer, nostrils flaring. “I can smell it on her. Old magic. Forbidden magic. Look at her hands—they’re still glowing. She’s been hiding this from us. From you.”

Aria tried to pull away from Kael, but he held her tighter. “She hid it because she’s smart,” he said. “If the council knew, they’d burn her.”

“As they should.” Sera’s voice cracked with fury. “You’re supposed to be my brother. You’re supposed to protect this pack. And instead you’re harboring a fugitive with powers we don’t understand, letting her put her hands on our people—”

“She just saved our people.”

“She could have cursed him!” Sera jabbed a finger at Dorian. “We don’t know what she did. What she is. For all we know, she’s the one who poisoned him in the first place. A rogue healer who conveniently shows up right when we need one? That’s not coincidence, Kael. That’s a setup.”

The accusation hit Aria like a slap. “I would never—”

“Shut up.” Sera’s eyes flashed gold. “You don’t get to speak. You’re nothing. A stray. A prisoner. A whore from the auction block that my brother dragged home like a wounded animal.”

“Sera.” Kael’s voice was ice. “Enough.”

But Sera wasn’t done. She turned to Kael, and her expression shifted—from fury to something softer. Calculated. “You want to be Alpha, brother? Then act like it. Bring her before the council. Let them judge her. Prove your loyalty to the pack.”

“I don’t need to prove anything.”

“You do.” Sera stepped closer, lowered her voice. “The elders are already questioning your leadership. They think you’re weak. Distracted. And now you’ve got a pretty little witch in your bed and your beta’s blood on her hands. What do you think they’ll do when they find out?”

Kael’s jaw tightened. Aria felt the tension ripple through his body. He was an Alpha without a pack’s trust. A ruler on a knife’s edge.

“She stays with me,” he said finally. “Under my protection. If the council has a problem with that, they can take it up with my claws.”

Sera’s eyes widened. Then narrowed. “You’re choosing her over your own sister?”

“I’m choosing to keep my beta alive and my pack strong. If you can’t see that, you’re not the Luna this pack needs.”

The words landed like a blade. Sera’s face went white, then red. She looked at Aria with pure, unfiltered hatred—the kind that didn’t fade. The kind that waited.

“Fine,” Sera whispered. “But when she betrays you—and she will—don’t come crying to me.”

She turned and swept out of the room, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the walls.

Silence fell. Dorian’s breathing was steady now, the black veins nearly gone. Aria’s hands had stopped glowing, but the warmth lingered, pulsing under her skin like a second heartbeat.

Kael released her. Stepped back. His face was unreadable.

“You should have told me,” he said quietly.

“You would have killed me.”

“Maybe.” His eyes met hers, and something flickered there—something raw and hungry. “Or maybe I would have kept you closer.”

Aria’s breath caught. Before she could respond, a scream tore through the packhouse.

Not Sera’s voice. Not a human voice at all.

The howl of a wolf in agony—and it was coming from inside the walls.

Kael’s head snapped toward the door. “What the—”

The lights went out. Every candle, every lamp, snuffed at once. In the darkness, Aria heard something breathing. Something that wasn’t Dorian. Something that wasn’t Kael.

Something that had been waiting.

And then the walls began to bleed.