Haven POV:
Antiseptic. Bleach. Sickness. The Pack Hospital.
I opened my eyes to a sterile white ceiling. My body felt like roadkill. The silver burns on my wrists and ankles throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. Silver wounds were a bitch to heal, even for a wolf.
"You're awake."
I turned my head. Connor sat in the chair beside the bed. He looked wrecked, but showered. Fresh clothes.
He held out a bowl of soup. "Chicken broth. Dr. Evans said you need fluids."
I stared at the bowl. Then I inhaled.
My wolf, Seraphina, curled her lip in disgust.
Underneath the soap and the broth, Connor reeked. He smelled like vanilla and cloying artificial roses.
Gemma's perfume.
It was all over him. On his hands, on his neck, woven into the fabric of his shirt. To a wolf, scent is identity. My mate was covered in another female's brand.
"Get it away from me," I croaked.
"Haven, please," Connor sighed, putting the bowl down. "Don't start. I saved her. I came back for you, didn't I? The Enforcers found you washed up two miles downriver."
"You left me with Rogues," I said, my voice trembling with fury. "You chose her."
"I chose to save the weaker life!" Connor stood up, his Alpha Aura flaring slightly, trying to compel me. "It was tactical. You are my Luna. You are a warrior. Gemma is... fragile."
"She is a liar," I spat. "And you smell like her."
Before he could answer, the door burst open. A young nurse, an Omega, looked terrified.
"Alpha! It's Miss Gemma," she stammered. "She's... she's having an episode. She's screaming about the Rogues. She won't let anyone touch her but you."
Connor's expression shifted instantly from anger to concern. It was a look he used to save for me.
"I have to go," he said. He didn't even hesitate.
"If you walk out that door," I warned, gripping the sheets, "don't bother coming back."
"Stop being so selfish, Haven. She's traumatized."
He turned his back on me and walked out.
I grabbed the bowl of soup and hurled it at the closed door. It shattered, broth splashing everywhere.
Selfish? I had almost died. My skin was burned. My heart was breaking.
Get up, Seraphina urged. We do not stay where we are not wanted.
I ignored the pain in my limbs and swung my legs out of bed. I found my clothes—cleaned and folded—on the chair. I dressed quickly, fingers fumbling with buttons.
I walked out into the hallway. It was late, the hospital quiet.
"I feel so bad for the Alpha," I heard a whisper from the nurses' station.
"Why? He's the one who spent the whole night holding that guest in the VIP suite while his Luna was in the ER."
"Shh! But you have to admit, Gemma is so sweet. And the Luna... she's always so cold, so business-like."
I gritted my teeth and walked past them. They went silent, bowing their heads in submission, but the scent of their pity was thick enough to choke on.
I needed to sign my discharge papers. I needed to get back to the office. Apex Dynamics was my empire as much as Connor's. I built the supply chains. I negotiated the treaties.
As I passed the VIP wing, I stopped. The door to room 304 was ajar.
I saw them.
Gemma lay in the bed, looking perfectly fine, not a scratch on her. Connor sat on the edge of the mattress.
She was leaning into him, her hand resting on his chest. And Connor...
Connor was rubbing the back of her neck.
It was a primal gesture. A soothing motion wolves used to calm their mates. It released pheromones meant to bond and comfort.
He was giving her the comfort that belonged to me.
I felt a sharp cramp in my lower abdomen. I gasped, clutching my stomach. It wasn't the silver. It was something deeper, a twisting pain in my womb.
I leaned against the wall, breathing through the wave of nausea.
"I'm here, Gemma," I heard Connor murmur. "I'm not going anywhere."
I pushed myself off the wall. I didn't barge in. I didn't scream. I just walked away.
The Pack House wasn't a home anymore. It was just a building. And Connor wasn't my mate. He was just a man who had broken the most sacred law of our kind.
