The healer's crystal sat in my palm like a shard of frozen moonlight. I'd carried it for years—a rare Lycan artifact my grandmother had pressed into my hands the day I earned my certification. "For the truth others refuse to see," she'd said.
I'd never understood what she meant. Until now.
I set the crystal on Cora's desk and let my fingers hover above it, feeling the faint hum of residual magic thrumming against my skin. My wolf stirred, her presence stronger than it had been in months, lending me clarity I hadn't known I was missing. The mind-link network operated on specific frequencies—Beta overrides used a higher resonance, cutting through mental shields with brute force rather than finesse.
Marlee's voice still echoed in my skull like poison. *Poor Leah. All alone now.*
My hands didn't shake as I began the working. Healer magic wasn't meant for this—we mended bones, cleansed infections, coaxed damaged tissue back to wholeness. But magic was magic, and resonance was resonance. I pressed two fingers to my wrist, feeling my pulse steady and sure, then channeled that rhythm into the crystal.
The air around it shimmered. The faint hum deepened, shifted, locked onto the frequency Marlee had used to slice into my consciousness. I held the working steady, sweat beading at my temples, until the crystal pulsed once—a single, affirming flash of light.
Done.
The next time Marlee opened a mind-link to taunt me, the crystal would record every word. Not just the content—the tone, the frequency signature, the Beta override authorization code embedded in the transmission itself. Undeniable. Unalterable. Evidence that even Wylder's Alpha authority couldn't dismiss.
I wrapped the crystal in soft cloth and tucked it into my jacket pocket, right next to the stolen Fellowship letter. My arsenal was growing.
I'd just closed the desk drawer when my wolf's warning snarl hit me like a fist to the chest. Something was wrong. Not here—out there, in the pack proper. The bond I'd spent three years trying to honor and the last twenty-four hours learning to sever flared with an urgency that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with biology.
Wylder. In distress.
I shoved the feeling down and turned back to my notes. I didn't care. I wouldn't care. Whatever was happening, it wasn't my problem anymore.
Then Cora's door slammed open hard enough to rattle the frame.
"Leah." She was breathing hard, still in her patrol gear, her face pale. "It's Marlee. She collapsed during the pack run. Heart failure. The junior healers can't stabilize her."
Of course she did. Of course.
I didn't move. "Then they should call a Lycan medical transport."
"Wylder's on his way here." Cora's voice dropped. "He's coming for you."
The words had barely left her mouth when I felt it—the crushing weight of an Alpha aura approaching like a storm front, so thick with desperation and rage it made the air itself feel heavy. My wolf bristled, but she didn't submit. She'd stopped submitting to him the moment he'd stripped my title.
I stood slowly, pressing two fingers to my wrist. My pulse was steady. Controlled. Good.
"Let him come," I said.
Wylder hit the door thirty seconds later. He didn't knock—Alphas didn't knock. He filled the doorway like a force of nature, his aura flooding the small room with enough pressure to send most wolves to their knees. Cora staggered slightly. I didn't move.
"Leah." His voice was raw, fraying at the edges. "You need to come with me. Now."
"No." The word came out calm, clinical. "I don't."
His eyes flashed gold—his wolf rising, desperate and furious. "She's dying. The healers can't—"
"Not my problem." I met his gaze without flinching. "You stripped my certification, remember? I'm Omega now. Omegas don't perform advanced medical procedures."
"Leah." He stepped inside, his Alpha tone sliding into his voice like a blade. "I am ordering you—"
"No." My wolf surged forward, lending me strength I hadn't known I still possessed. His Alpha tone hit me and slid off like water off stone. "You don't get to order me anymore. You exiled me. You humiliated me. You took everything. So no, Wylder. I'm not coming."
The desperation in his face would have broken me yesterday. Today, I watched it with the detached interest of a healer observing a patient's symptoms.
"What do you want?" His voice cracked. "Name it. Anything."
Finally.
I pulled the Fellowship letter from my pocket and held it up. His face went white.
"Ten percent of Black Moon Pack's northern territory rights," I said, my voice steady as a scalpel. "Transferred to my name. Irrevocably. Witnessed by the Lycan Council. And a formal reinstatement of my healer certification, signed by you, effective immediately."
"That's—" He stopped. Stared at the letter. At me. "You can't be serious."
"She's dying, isn't she?" I folded the letter carefully and slipped it back into my pocket. "Tick tock, Alpha."
His jaw rolled once—that tiny tell I'd learned to read years ago. The hesitation before he made a choice he knew would cost him.
"Fine," he ground out. "Done. Now move."
I picked up my healer's bag and walked past him without another word. Behind me, I heard Cora's sharp exhale—half shock, half fierce pride.
Marlee wanted to play games. Fine. But she'd just made a critical mistake.
She'd given me leverage. And I was done playing fair.
