Chapter 4
The world around me was chaos—screams tearing through the night air, the thunderous growls of feral wolves, and the metallic scent of blood hanging heavy over the festival grounds. I struggled to my feet, my vision blurred from the wolfsbane poisoning, my legs trembling beneath me.
"Kya!" Someone shouted from behind me. "Get down!"
I turned instinctively, only to see Whitney running toward me, her perfect features twisted with something that looked almost like concern. Almost.
"Kya, watch out!" she screamed, her eyes wide with what I would later realize was not fear but calculation.
Before I could react, her hands slammed into my chest—hard. The force sent me stumbling backward, directly into the path of a massive rogue wolf that had broken through the defensive line.
"Whitney!" I gasped, shock paralyzing me more than fear.
Her lips curved into a smile that chilled me to my core. "Goodbye, sister," she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. "You were never supposed to survive this long anyway."
The rogue's eyes locked onto mine, hungry and vicious. Its massive jaws opened wide as it charged toward me, claws extended.
Time seemed to slow. I could see everything with terrible clarity—the rogue's yellowed teeth, the blood matting its fur, Whitney's triumphant expression as she scrambled safely away.
"Austin!" I screamed, a desperate instinctual cry.
He appeared suddenly at the edge of the clearing, his Alpha aura blazing like a beacon. For one heartbeat, our eyes met—and in that moment, I saw something flicker across his face. Recognition? Regret? It didn't matter. He had to choose.
Whitney screamed dramatically, throwing herself toward Austin. "Save me!"
The rogue was mere feet from me now.
Austin's choice was instant. He lunged forward with preternatural speed, wrapping his powerful arms around Whitney and shielding her body with his own.
"Stay down," he ordered her, his Alpha tone brooking no argument.
And then he turned his back on me.
The rogue hit me with the full force of its attack. Pain exploded across my chest and abdomen as its claws tore through flesh. I heard someone screaming—maybe it was me—as I fell backward, blood spraying in an arc beneath the full moon.
The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was Austin's broad shoulders protecting Whitney, while my blood soaked into the earth of the festival grounds.
---
Darkness. Then pain—sharp, insistent pain that dragged me back to consciousness.
I blinked, trying to focus my blurred vision. White ceiling. The antiseptic smell of the pack infirmary. The soft beeping of medical equipment.
"She's awake," someone murmured.
I turned my head slightly, wincing at the movement. Elena Rodriguez, the pack healer, stood beside my bed, her kind eyes filled with concern.
"Easy," she said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "You're badly hurt."
Memory flooded back—the festival, Whitney's shove, the rogue's claws tearing into me. Austin's choice.
"How long?" I managed to whisper, my throat raw.
"Three days," Elena replied, checking my IV. "You lost a lot of blood."
I tried to sit up but gasped as pain lanced through my torso. Looking down, I saw bandages wrapped around my chest and stomach, dark spots of blood seeping through.
"The rogue got me pretty bad," I said weakly.
Elena's expression tightened. "Yes. Four deep lacerations across your torso. Another inch deeper and..." She trailed off.
I closed my eyes, remembering Austin's choice. "Did anyone else get hurt?"
"A few pack members, but nothing serious." Elena hesitated, then leaned closer. "Kya, there's something else."
Something in her tone made me look up sharply.
"While treating your wounds, I noticed something strange in your blood work." She glanced nervously toward the door before continuing. "There are high levels of wolfsbane in your system—levels that could only come from consistent, deliberate exposure."
My heart pounded painfully against my ribs. "Whitney," I whispered.
Elena nodded grimly. "I took samples for testing, but..." Another nervous glance at the door. "I can't report this. Not with Whitney's position and your father's... influence."
I understood immediately. Elena was afraid—afraid of what would happen if she spoke the truth.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, genuine regret in her eyes as she adjusted my blankets. "I wish I could do more."
"Don't worry," I murmured, closing my eyes against a fresh wave of pain. "I understand."
As Elena moved away to check on other patients, I lay alone in the narrow infirmary bed, surrounded by the sterile smell of antiseptics and the quiet beeping of monitors.
In that moment of clarity that comes with extreme pain, I realized that I truly was alone. No one would speak for me. No one would fight for me. If I wanted to survive, I would have to find a way to save myself.
And somewhere deep inside me, beneath the wolfsbane poisoning and years of submission, something stirred—something that felt strangely like the first awakening of my wolf.
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