RHYNA'S POV
I knew something was wrong the moment I heard shouting outside.
Not the angry kind, but the urgent kind.
Boots pounded against the ground.
Wolves barked orders. Someone groaned in pain, the pain was deep, wet, and broken.
The door to the hall opened, and two Shadowbound warriors dragged a body inside.
My breath caught.
Blood soaked through the man's clothes, dark and heavy. It trailed behind him, staining the floor. His head lolled to the side, his breathing uneven and weak.
Then I saw the markings on his arm.
Moonbeam Claw. My own.
My heart slammed painfully against my ribs.
"No," I whispered, already standing. "No... please..."
They dropped him near the fire pit like he was nothing more than a sack of meat. He cried out softly, his body jerking once before going still again.
I rushed forward before anyone could stop me.
"Let me help him," I said quickly, dropping to my knees beside him. My hands hovered over his wounds, already assessing, already planning. "He's mine. He's Moonbeam. I can save him."
One of the guards hesitated. Another scoffed.
"He won't last," someone muttered.
I ignored them, I pressed my hands to his chest. Blood soaked into my palms, warm and slippery. The wound was deep, too deep. A blade had torn through his side, missing nothing important and everything important at the same time.
His eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, they were empty, then recognition filled them.
"Rhyna...?" His voice was barely a breath.
My chest tightened. "Yes. It's me. Stay awake. Please. I'm here."
I tried to stop the bleeding, tried to slow it, tried to do something, anything, but the damage was too severe. I could feel it. His life was already slipping away.
He smiled weakly.
"You always... said we'd survive," he whispered.
Tears burned my eyes. "We will. Just hold on. Please."
He coughed. Blood stained his lips.
"They're winning," he said softly.
My hands froze.
"What?" I whispered.
"The Shadowbound... they're winning," he repeated. "We don't have healers anymore."
My breath shook.
"What do you mean?" I asked desperately. "Where are the others?"
His gaze drifted, unfocused now.
"Dead... scattered," he murmured. "The wounded... they're dying, Rhyna. No one is there to help them."
The world tilted.
My chest felt hollow, like something had been ripped out of me.
"I tried to keep them alive," he continued weakly. "But without you... without the healers... we can't..."
His voice broke.
"Everyone's dying."
A sharp pain tore through my heart.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."
His fingers twitched, brushing mine.
"Not your fault," he breathed. "You were taken."
His eyes slowly dimmed.
"Live," he said. "Please... live."
Then his hand went still.
No one spoke.
I sat there, hands covered in his blood, staring at a body I could not save.
I was a healer who failed, a packmate who died because I wasn't there.
Guilt crushed down on me like a mountain.
My people were losing. They were bleeding out in the dirt, just like he had.
And I was here, among enemies.
My hands curled into fists.
This war wasn't just about what belonged to another anymore.
It was about blood owed...
******
I didn't move.
The body was taken away, but the blood stayed on my hands. I stared at it like it belonged to someone else. Like if I looked long enough, this would stop being real.
"Rhyna."
I flinched at the sound of my name. Alpha Conan stood a few steps away, his face hard, his eyes dark. The camp had gone quiet, but the tension was thick. Everyone was watching us.
I wiped my hands slowly on my dress and stood.
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice flat.
"There's a wounded wolf," he said. "Badly injured. You will heal him."
I laughed. The sound was sharp and bitter.
"No."
The word echoed louder than I expected. Murmurs rippled through the pack.
Conan's jaw tightened. "That wasn't a request."
I turned to face him fully. My chest burned, my heart aching with fresh grief.
"My people are dying," I said. "Did you hear that man? Did you hear what he said before he died in my arms?"
"You want me to heal your wolves," I continued, my voice shaking now, "while mine bleed out without help? While my pack loses everything?"
His eyes narrowed. "This war isn't your concern."
I laughed again, louder this time. "Not my concern? That was my packmate. My blood, my family."
"You are in my territory," Conan said coldly. "You will fucking obey my orders."
I stepped closer, anger finally overpowering fear.
"Who do you think you are?" I demanded. "Dragging me from the battlefield, keeping me here, and now ordering me to save the same wolves killing my people?"
His presence flared, heavy and sharp.
"And who do you think you are," he shot back, his voice low and dangerous, "to question me?"
The air between us felt like it might snap.
"You are abandoned here," he continued. "Your Alpha has done nothing, he didn't give a fuck when he learnt that his prized healer is here. There were no negotiations or even an attempt to stop this war or get you back."
The words hit harder than any blow.
I swallowed, my throat burning.
"You think you matter so much," he said, stepping closer, "but where is your pack now? Where is your Alpha?"
My hands curled into fists.
"I am important," I snapped. "Maybe not to you, but I matter to my people."
He scoffed. "If you did, this war would already be over." " You're just a mistake that I brought upon myself."
Something inside me cracked.
"Yes," I whispered bitterly. "I know."
My voice trembled, but I didn't stop.
"I'm just a lowlife omega, I remember correctly?" I said. "I'm replaceable, disposable and easy to lose."
His eyes flickered.
"My Alpha didn't come for me," I continued, the words spilling out now. "Not because I don't matter, but because omegas don't start wars."
The silence was suffocating.
"I was taken," I said quietly. "And they let it happen."
I lifted my chin, forcing myself not to cry.
"So don't stand there and tell me I'm nothing," I finished. "Because I already know."
For a moment, Conan said nothing.
His face was unreadable.
Then he turned sharply. "Bring the injured one."
Two wolves dragged another body forward.
This one was Shadowbound.
He was young, barely older than me. His breathing was shallow, blood soaking through his side. His eyes rolled back in pain.
I looked at him, and felt nothing but rage.
"No," I said again. "I won't help him."
Conan turned slowly.
"If he dies," he said, calm and cruel, "it will be on you."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"You'd use guilt?" I whispered.
"I'm using reality," he replied. "This is what healers do."
"That's what healers do for their own," I snapped.
His voice dropped. "You are not Moonbeam anymore."
That hurt more than anything else.
The wounded wolf groaned softly.
I closed my eyes.
Moon Goddess... why?
Why give me hands meant to save when my heart was breaking?
Slowly, I knelt and began attending to the wounded wolf.
Not because of Conan, not because of his order, but because I could not let another person die in front of me.
