Elara POV:
Three days passed.
The Blackwood Pack was a hive of frantic, directionless energy. Kael lay in a deep coma in the Healers' ward.
I walked down the long, stone corridor of the ward, carrying a wooden tray. The air was heavy with the smell of bitter herbs and the sour scent of anxious wolves.
I saw Selene standing outside Kael's heavy oak door. She was wearing a pure white dress, posturing as a fragile flower. Selene claimed to be a gentle Beta, but I could always smell the stale, grimy scent of a Rogue hidden beneath her cheap rose perfume. She needed me laid out on that cold table, my chest carved open once more, not just to save Kael, but to keep his attention from her own family's treacherous dealings.
When she saw me, her eyes welled with practiced tears.
"Elara," she whispered, stepping into my path. She reached for my sleeve, but I took a half-step back, letting her fingers grasp at empty air.
"He is dying, Elara," Selene said, her voice trembling. "The Healers say only a miracle can save him now. They've tested dozens of wolves, but no one's blood is compatible enough to neutralize the venom."
She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. She was guiding me, prompting me to volunteer my rare White Wolf blood, just as she had in my dream. She wanted me to be the hero who sacrificed everything, so she could reap the rewards of a healthy Alpha.
"And then what?" I asked, my throat producing no echo of feeling. The words left my mouth like chips of dry ice, devoid of all warmth.
Selene blinked, confused by my response.
"What do you mean? You would save him! You love him, do you not?" she pressed.
"If he requires a miracle, go and pray," I said. My gaze traveled from the hem of her dress to her carefully arranged hair with undisguised disdain. "You are his future mate, are you not? Your prayers should carry more weight than an Omega's."
Selene's face went slack. She opened her mouth to speak, but I gave her no opportunity.
I walked past her, leaving her a solitary white figure in the cold hallway.
In my dream, her tears had worked. I had felt noble when I volunteered. Noble, and utterly doomed.
Before my hand could touch the door to the ward, Kael's father, the current Alpha, emerged into the corridor, his large frame blocking my path. He looked exhausted, his broad shoulders slumped.
I placed the tray of hot herb soup on a small nearby table.
"Alpha," I said, inclining my head in a traditional greeting.
He turned to look at me. His eyes were dark and desperate.
"Elara," he said, his voice heavy. "The Healers have tested everyone in the Pack. No one's blood can counter the venom destroying his core."
He took a step toward me. The air in the chamber grew dense, a palpable weight that pressed upon my lungs as if a great stone were laid upon my breast.
This was the Alpha's Command, a power that forces lesser wolves to submit.
"You grew up with him," the Alpha continued, his voice resonating with that compelling power. "I need you to allow the Healers to test you. I need you to give him your blood."
In my dream, this pressure had buckled my knees. I had wept and consented, and they had taken far more than blood.
But now, the dormant White Wolf blood inside me stirred. A warm current spread through my veins, pushing back against the Alpha's heavy aura. I also knew my rights.
I stood straight, my eyes fixed on the crest embroidered on his chest, refusing to meet his gaze.
"I apologize, Alpha," I said clearly. "But the mid-term examinations for the Royal Academy of Runes are next week."
I kept my voice perfectly polite, yet firm. "As a registered student under the Crown's treaty, I am exempt from forced Pack medical procedures. I will not consent to any core extraction."
The Alpha stared at me, utterly stunned by my refusal.
Before the shock could recede from his features, before he could muster another command, I pivoted on my heel. My worn leather shoes made no sound on the polished stone as I retreated down the corridor, leaving his stunned silence to be swallowed by the ward's sterile quiet.
I hurried back to the basement kitchen.
My mother was waiting for me. She looked at my face and knew.
"Did they ask you?" she whispered, her hands trembling as she wrung a dishcloth.
I walked to her and crouched by her chair.
I took her rough, warm hands in mine.
"Mother," I said, looking deeply into her eyes. "I will never give them my blood. I will never let them break my core."
Martha gasped, tears filling her eyes. She was an Omega. Fear of the Alpha class was carved into her very bones.
But as she looked at me, a fierce, protective light ignited in her eyes. A mother's love was stronger than Pack law.
"Good," she whispered fiercely, squeezing my hands. "You protect yourself, Elara. Do you hear me?"
"I will," I promised. "Our service contract ends at the Winter Festival. We are going to leave this manor."
I stood and kissed her forehead.
I went up to my attic room and sat at my small wooden desk. I opened an old, heavy book filled with ancient magical runes. The strange symbols seemed to glow faintly in the candlelight.
I picked up my quill.
I was going to earn a perfect score.
I was going to write my own fate.
And no Alpha, no Luna, no weeping girl in white would take that from me.
