Chapter 4

Ana POV

For the next three weeks, I became a ghost.

They put me to work as a cleaner. I scrubbed the toilets. I mopped the hallways. I washed the dishes that held the food I wasn't allowed to eat.

My body was failing.

I was coughing up black blood daily now. The Wolfsbane combined with the years of silver poisoning had triggered organ failure.

I dragged my mop bucket down the Alpha wing corridor. My hands were raw and blistered.

"Oops."

An Omega girl, Jessica, kicked my bucket over. Dirty gray water spilled across the floor I had just cleaned.

"Clean it up, traitor," she sneered.

I didn't argue. I didn't have the energy. I knelt down and started soaking up the water with a rag.

Suddenly, pain shot through my chest. I gasped, dropping the rag. It felt like my heart was skipping beats.

"She's faking it," Jessica laughed.

I wasn't. I crawled into a supply closet and curled up, clutching my Moonstone. It was cold now. Dead stone.

Dr. Manning, the Pack Doctor, found me there an hour later. He wasn't cruel like the others, just indifferent. He dragged me to the infirmary and ran a scanner over me. The machine beeped frantically.

"I have to report this," Manning said, gripping his clipboard, his face pale. "Your liver is shutting down. Your heart is operating at forty percent. The Alpha needs to know you're dying."

"No," I grabbed his wrist, my grip surprisingly strong for a dying woman. "You can't tell him."

"Ana, this is fatal. If I don't-"

"If you tell him, he'll think it's another trick," I hissed, desperation clawing at my throat. "He thinks I'm a witch. If he knows I'm dying, he won't see it as a tragedy; he'll see it as a manipulation tactic. He'll banish me to the woods to die alone before Aspen gets back."

Manning hesitated. "But-"

"You swore an oath, Doctor," I wheezed. "Do no harm. Getting me thrown out before I see my brother is harm. You keep your mouth shut until Aspen is safe. Promise me."

He looked at the scanner, then at my desperate eyes. He sighed, defeated. "I'll give you something for the pain. But it won't buy you much time."

"I don't need much," I whispered.

Later that afternoon, I was scrubbing the floor near the Beta's office. The door was slightly ajar.

I heard voices.

Not spoken voices. Mind-Link voices.

Usually, Mind-Link is private. But if wolves are emotional or careless, they can project their thoughts too loudly, like a radio left on high volume. Or maybe, because I was dying, the veil between minds was thinning for me.

I'm telling you, Alpha, the expenses are too high, came the Beta's mental voice. Keeping her hidden in the West Wing requires too many resources.

She demands the best, Courtland's mental voice replied. She is fragile.

Kinsley is getting impatient, Courtland. She wants to come out of hiding. She's tired of playing dead.

I froze. The rag fell from my hand.

Kinsley.

Playing dead.

The world tilted on its axis. My breath caught in my throat.

She can't come out yet, Courtland projected back. Not until Ana is dead. The pack needs to believe justice has been served. Once Ana dies, we can stage a 'miracle' return for Kinsley.

I covered my mouth to stop the scream.

She was alive.

Five years. Five years of torture. My brother's childhood stolen. My wolf killed. My body destroyed.

All for a lie.

Kinsley wasn't dead. She was hiding in the West Wing, living in luxury while I rotted in silver.

Rage, hot and blinding, surged through my dying body. It gave me a strength I didn't know I had.

I stood up.

I wasn't going to die quietly. Not anymore.