Three days had passed since I'd confronted Pierce and Jazmine in their den, three days since I'd learned the true depth of their betrayal. I'd returned to Old Martha's cabin with my heart full of rage and my mind spinning with plans for revenge. But all of that fell away the moment I saw Summer.
She was burning with fever, her small body trembling beneath the thin blanket Martha had wrapped around her. Her skin was pale as moonlight, and when she opened her eyes, they were glassy and unfocused.
"How long has she been like this?" I asked, pressing my hand to her forehead. The heat radiating from her skin made my wolf whimper with distress.
"Started yesterday morning," Martha said, her weathered face creased with worry. "Right after you left. It's not natural, Dorothy. This is the kind of fever that kills wolfless children. She needs pack healing, needs the Alpha's healer."
My blood turned to ice. Without her wolf to help fight the illness, Summer was defenseless. Human medicine wouldn't be enough—she needed the mystical healing that only a pack's designated healer could provide.
"Mama?" Summer's voice was barely a whisper. "I hurt everywhere."
I gathered her into my arms, feeling how light she'd become, how fragile. "I know, baby. I'm going to fix this."
But even as I said the words, I knew what I had to do. I had to go back to Shadowridge Pack and beg Pierce for help. Had to swallow my pride and plead with the man who'd betrayed me to save our daughter's life.
The journey back to pack territory felt like walking through a nightmare. Summer's fever had worsened, and she drifted in and out of consciousness in my arms. By the time I reached the pack grounds, my shirt was soaked with her sweat and my wolf was howling with desperation.
I found Pierce in his office, going through territorial maps with his Beta. When he looked up and saw me holding Summer, his expression didn't change—not even a flicker of concern for his dying daughter.
"She needs the pack healer," I said without preamble. "She's dying, Pierce. Whatever you think of me, she's innocent. She's your blood."
Pierce leaned back in his chair, studying us with cold calculation. "Is she? Because from where I'm sitting, I see a rejected mate and her wolfless burden trespassing on my territory."
"She's your daughter," I repeated, my voice breaking. "Please. I'll do anything. I'll serve the pack, I'll accept any punishment, just please let the healer see her."
"Rejected mates and their offspring have no claim to pack resources," Pierce said, his voice utterly without emotion. "The healer's time is reserved for true pack members, not mistakes from my past."
Summer stirred in my arms, her small hand reaching for Pierce. "Daddy?" she whispered, her voice so weak it was barely audible.
Pierce didn't even look at her. "I suggest you find help elsewhere, Dorothy. Perhaps the rogues you've been living with have some folk remedies."
The casual cruelty of it hit me like a physical blow. This was his child, his blood, and he was willing to let her die to prove a point about pack hierarchy.
"You're a monster," I whispered.
Pierce shrugged. "I'm an Alpha who understands that resources are finite and must be allocated appropriately. Your poor choices don't create obligations for my pack."
I turned and left without another word, Summer's labored breathing the only sound in the terrible silence that followed.
* * *
The territorial gathering was my last hope. Held on neutral ground between three major packs, it was where disputes were settled and alliances formed. If I couldn't find help there, Summer would die.
I arrived carrying her wrapped in Martha's old shawl, my own strength nearly depleted from the journey. The gathering was already underway, various pack members mingling in the large clearing surrounded by ancient stone markers that declared the space sacred and neutral.
That's when I smelled it—pine and cedar, wild and intoxicating, cutting through all the other scents like a blade through silk. My wolf, dormant since Pierce's rejection, suddenly lifted her head and howled with recognition and pure, overwhelming joy.
Mate.
I turned toward the scent, my heart hammering, and found myself looking at the most magnificent man I'd ever seen. He was tall and powerfully built, with dark hair and eyes that seemed to hold starlight. But it was his aura that took my breath away—pure, commanding Alpha energy that made every wolf in the clearing turn to look at him.
Lycan Prince. The knowledge hit me like lightning. This wasn't just any Alpha—this was Lycan royalty.
Our eyes met across the clearing, and I watched his nostrils flare as he caught my scent. His expression shifted from polite interest to something fierce and possessive, and he began moving toward me with predatory grace.
"Well, well," a familiar voice said behind me. "Look what the cat dragged in."
I turned to see Jazmine approaching, Pierce at her side, both wearing expressions of cruel amusement. My mother's moonstone pendant caught the light at Jazmine's throat, and rage flared in my chest.
"Dorothy," Pierce said loudly, his Alpha tone carrying across the gathering. "Still clinging to that wolfless mistake, I see. How pathetic."
But before I could respond, before the humiliation could fully register, a new voice cut through the air like a blade.
"That's enough."
The Lycan Prince stepped between us, his aura flaring with such power that Pierce actually took a step back. When he looked down at Summer in my arms, his expression softened with genuine concern.
"She's sick," he said gently, and when he reached out to touch Summer's forehead, she stirred and looked up at him with wonder instead of fear.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
"Someone who's going to help," he said, and for the first time in days, I felt hope bloom in my chest.
