Chapter 4
The television in my hospital room flickered with a familiar face that made my stomach twist. Alina stood at a podium, her expression a perfect mask of concern as she addressed the pack.
"Today marks the launch of our Mental Health Awareness campaign," she announced, her voice dripping with false sincerity. "Many of you have expressed concerns about Celine Chapman's... condition."
The camera panned to show posters with my face plastered across them. "Wolfless and Dangerous: Recognize the Signs."
"I've personally witnessed her deteriorating mental state," Alina continued, her eyes wide with manufactured fear. "The incident with the fire was just one example of her instability."
I switched off the TV, my bandaged hands trembling with rage. The burns on my palms pulled tight as I clenched my fists, sending fresh waves of pain up my arms.
"Propaganda," I whispered, my damaged vocal cords making it sound like a growl.
A nurse entered, her eyes avoiding mine as she checked my vitals. "There's a... situation outside," she murmured, adjusting my IV with mechanical precision.
I didn't need to ask what she meant. The chanting had started yesterday—pack members gathering outside the hospital, their voices carrying through the windows.
"Send her away!"
"Protect our pups!"
"No place for mad wolves here!"
Alina had turned my tragedy into a public relations campaign. She'd painted me as a threat to the pack's children, a unstable woman who couldn't control her inner wolf—except I couldn't shift at all.
---
"Her burns aren't healing properly," Marcus said, his voice low as he examined my chart. "The grafts are failing."
I remained silent, watching his face for any sign of the compassion that should have been there. For days, he'd been administering barely enough pain medication to keep me conscious, claiming my "wolf should handle it."
"She doesn't have a wolf to heal her," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "Not anymore."
He pulled up my medical records on his tablet, scrolling through pages of data. His brow furrowed as he studied the numbers.
"This doesn't make sense," he said, louder now. "These burns require specialized treatment at a human burn unit."
I turned my head away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing my suffering.
"The Alpha denied the transfer request," Marcus continued, his voice strained. "He said you needed to remain under pack supervision."
Through the window, I could see protesters carrying signs with Alina's slogans. Marcus followed my gaze, his expression shifting from clinical detachment to something that looked almost like guilt.
"I'll be back," he said abruptly, leaving the room without finishing his examination.
Later that night, I heard him return, his footsteps hesitant in the hallway. He slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind him.
"I've documented everything," he whispered, placing a small drive on my bedside table. "The denied treatments, the inadequate pain management, the Alpha's direct orders."
"Why?" I managed to ask, my voice barely audible.
"Because I took an oath to heal," he replied, his eyes meeting mine for the first time. "And because what's happening to you is wrong."
---
The Great Hall of the Pack House loomed before me as two Delta wolves wheeled me in. Every head turned, conversations dying as I passed. The scent of judgment and curiosity filled the air.
"Look at her," someone whispered. "She can't even shift to heal herself."
"I heard she tried to kill the Alpha and Luna," another voice added.
My burns throbbed under the harsh lights as they positioned my wheelchair facing the dais where Declan stood tall and imposing, Alina at his side. She wore a dress that highlighted her fresh marking, her hand possessively placed on Declan's arm.
"Pack members of Silverclaw," Declan began, his Alpha voice resonating through the hall. "We gather today for a difficult but necessary task."
His eyes found mine, cold and distant. "Celine Chapman has become a liability to our pack's safety and stability."
Alina stepped forward, her expression grave. "After careful consideration and consultation with our healers, we believe her mental state has deteriorated beyond recovery."
The crowd murmured in agreement, their faces showing varying degrees of pity and disgust.
"As your Alpha," Declan continued, "I must make decisions that protect our future generations. Celine's presence threatens the well-being of our pack, especially our pups."
He gestured to a group of mothers holding children close to their sides. "We cannot risk exposing impressionable young wolves to her instability."
"Today, I ask you to vote for her immediate exile as a rogue," he declared. "For the good of Silverclaw."
The hall erupted in shouts of approval as hands raised in support of my banishment. Through the pain and betrayal, one thought crystallized in my mind: They had no idea what was coming.
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