The Pack Banquet was held in the main hall two weeks after the silver cell.
My hands had healed enough to work, though the burns left marks — thin white lines across my palms where the skin had blistered and scarred. My wolf was still silent. The repeated silver exposure had done something to the bond between us. I could feel the absence like a missing limb.
I stood near the refreshment table because it was expected. Healers attended pack functions. We smiled. We made small talk. We pretended everything was fine.
Helena approached from my left, moving through the crowd with that practiced grace she wore like armor. She positioned herself beside me, close enough that our shoulders nearly touched. Too close. I shifted slightly away.
"Olivia," she said warmly, her voice pitched to carry. "I wanted to thank you again for the serum. I've been feeling so much stronger."
I nodded. Didn't speak. My mother's moon-pendant rested against my throat — the one piece of her I had left intact. The chain felt heavier than usual tonight.
Helena reached past me toward a glass on the table. Her arm swept wide, broader than necessary. Her wrist struck the pendant's chain. I felt the clasp give. The pendant dropped.
I reached for it automatically. Helena staggered backward with a small cry, her heel coming down directly on the pendant where it had fallen. I heard the moonstone crack. She ground her heel slightly, as if catching her balance. The sound was distinct — crystal shattering against stone floor.
Then she was clutching her wrist, tears already forming in her eyes.
"You pushed me!" Her voice rose, sharp and frightened. "Olivia, why would you—"
Pack members turned. I saw their faces shift from curiosity to concern. I looked down at the crushed pendant. The moonstone was in pieces. The silver setting was bent beyond repair.
I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. I just stood there staring at fragments of my mother's legacy ground into the floor.
Alec appeared through the crowd. His expression was already set — jaw tight, eyes cold. He didn't look at the pendant. He looked at Helena's tears.
"What happened?" he demanded.
Helena's voice trembled. "I was reaching for a glass. She grabbed my arm and shoved me. I don't know why. I just wanted to thank her."
"That's not—" I started.
Alec's hand closed around my upper arm. His grip was iron. "Come with me."
He dragged me from the hall. Pack members stepped aside. No one spoke. I caught Beta Marcus's eye for just a second. He looked away.
Alec pulled me through corridors, up stairs, to my quarters in the Healing Hall's back wing. He released my arm and went directly to the cedar box beside my bed.
My parents' box. The one I'd salvaged from the fire. The one that held everything I had left of them.
"No," I said. The word came out flat. Final.
He picked up the box. Turned. Walked back toward the door.
I followed. "Alec, please. That's all I have. Please."
He didn't respond. Didn't slow. He carried the box down to the pack house's main level, to the great room where the enormous stone fireplace dominated one wall. A fire was already burning — the banquet hall was cold tonight, and the pack house staff kept the common areas warm.
Alec opened the box. Pulled out my father's research journals. My mother's Healer ring. The dried herbs from their original Healing Hall that still carried their scent. He threw them into the flames.
"No!" I lunged forward without thinking.
My hands plunged into the fire. Pain exploded across my palms, immediate and absolute. I grabbed my mother's ring. Pulled three pages of research notes free before the flames consumed them entirely. The heat was unbearable. My skin blistered. The smell of burning flesh filled my nose.
I stumbled back, clutching the salvaged fragments. My palms were raw. Blackened. The pain made my vision blur.
Alec stood watching. He didn't move to stop me. Didn't move to help. His expression was carved from stone.
"Remember your place," he said quietly.
Then he turned and walked away.
I stood there holding my mother's ring and three charred pages, my hands screaming, watching the rest of my parents' legacy turn to ash.
---
I wrapped my hands in strips torn from my healer's apron. The fabric stuck to the burns. I didn't care.
Back in the Healing Hall, I worked through the pain. Helena's stabilization serum required precise measurements, careful temperature control, six hours of uninterrupted synthesis time. My burned hands shook. I steadied them. Measured. Mixed. Monitored.
Four days. It took four days to complete the formula. My palms cracked and bled through the bandages. My wolf remained silent. The pain was constant, a white-hot throb that made sleep impossible.
On the fourth night, I locked the completed serum in cold storage. The pack house was quiet. Most wolves were asleep.
I packed a small bag. My mother's ring. The three salvaged research pages. My healer's tools — scalpel, suture kit, the compact herb pouch I'd assembled years ago. I left my healer's robes hanging on their hook. I wouldn't need them where I was going.
I slipped out through the Healing Hall's back entrance and moved toward Shadowcrest's eastern boundary. The border trees were visible in the moonlight, dark shapes against darker sky. Freedom was maybe two hundred yards away.
Beta Marcus stepped out from behind a storage shed. Two warriors flanked him.
I stopped walking. Didn't run. There was no point.
Marcus's expression was carefully neutral. Professional. "The Alpha wants to see you."
I looked at the border trees. So close. Then back at Marcus.
"Of course he does," I said quietly.
I didn't resist when they escorted me back toward the pack house. My burned hands throbbed with every step. My bag felt impossibly heavy.
I'd almost made it. Almost.
The word tasted like ash in my mouth.
