Chapter 4 The truth beneath the scars

"You need to have a doctor check that."

"It's... it always heals. Eventually." Liora's voice fades when she notices the anger tightening across my face. My eyes travel over the bruises littering her arms, the fading marks around her throat, the wound on her stomach she's trying to hide with that thin dress. My jaw tightens. "Did Trey do this?" I mutter through clenched teeth, gesturing toward her injuries. Her blue eyes drop instantly. "Liora?" Silence. "Cassius then? That idiot that trails behind Trey like a shadow? Or the other two mutts with him?" She pulls the dress tighter around herself and gives a small nod. Her fingers brush her cheek, wiping away a tear that slips out before she can stop it. "Anyone else?" I press.

"The pack," she whispers so quietly it's almost swallowed by the room. A low growl rumbles in my chest. I'm going to kill them all, Aero snarls inside my head. He'll have to get in line. "Because of what they think you did to your parents?" I ask. She nods again. "I don't believe you were responsible." That makes her finally look up. Confusion twists across her face as her brows pull together.

"Because of... Blood of Wolfsbane?" she murmurs. I blink. "Liora." "I... I don't know what Blood of Wolfsbane is," she says quietly. I frown. "Your brother said you knew plants. Said you could tell the difference between them."

"I... I can't remember everything," she admits, her voice barely above a breath. "Not properly." I rub a hand over my jaw. "Blood of Wolfsbane is wolfsbane fed with our blood. The leaves turn red. It's rare and dangerous. Packs don't grow it openly because of what it can do." I pause, watching her reaction.

"No child would know what it is unless someone taught them." Her eyes drop again. "Your brother's story doesn't add up," I mutter. "Someone lied." "Oh." The small word leaves her lips like she doesn't know what else to say. I push myself off the desk, staring down at her. "I won't stop until I find out who really did this to you, Liora," I tell her quietly, my crimson eyes narrowing. "And when I do, they'll pay for every second of suffering you endured." She stays silent, but I can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes.

"Right now though," I add, gesturing toward her stomach, "you need to see the pack doctor before that infection spreads." She presses her lips together and nods. "Come," I say, turning toward the door. "I'll show you our bedroom. You can shower first." She freezes instantly. I glance back over my shoulder. "Our bedroom?" she repeats softly like she isn't sure she heard me correctly.

Yes. Our.

The realization clearly hits her all at once. Her shoulders tense, a shiver running down her spine. She probably thinks I expect sex whenever I want because she's my contract bride. I pretend not to notice. Adjusting her dress to cover herself, she steps into the hallway behind me. The corridors are quiet, empty. Our footsteps echo softly against the polished floors. I point out a few rooms as we walk. "Training room. Library. Council room."

But honestly, I'm more focused on getting her cleaned up before that wound gets worse. When we reach my bedroom, she stops again. The room is massive, windows stretching from floor to ceiling, letting in pale light. The bed sits against the far wall, surrounded by thin drapes hanging from the ceiling and tied back loosely at each post. Her gaze drifts toward the bathroom area and she stiffens. The bath and shower sit openly within the room itself. Only the toilet is hidden behind a small door. No privacy. Not that I care. I step closer, leaning slightly toward her ear and she jumps when my breath brushes her skin.

"You don't need to be afraid," I murmur. Even if I couldn't smell another male on her, I'd still feel the shift in her emotions through the bond forming between us. Crossing the room, I pull open the glass shower door and turn the water on. Steam begins to fog the glass almost instantly. When I turn back, she's still standing exactly where I left her, staring like she's waiting for the trap to spring. I tilt her chin up with two fingers. "Hey," I say quietly. "It's just you and me." Her eyes widen slightly.

I pull my phone from my pocket and set an alarm before placing it on the bedside table. "Ten minutes," I tell her. "I'll come back then with clothes for you. Stay in the towel until I return. Understand?" She nods. No words. Just that small, nervous nod again. I move toward the door but pause with my hand resting on the knob. Glancing back at her, I sigh softly. "I really wish you'd talk more, Liora." Then I leave her alone. The moment the door closes, she rushes for the shower like she's escaping into another world. Maybe for her, it is. Warm water pours over her body as she scrubs away dirt and sweat. The scent of soap fills the room as she washes her hair, her skin, everything like she's trying to erase years of misery. The wound on her stomach burns under the hot water, but she doesn't stop. A simple shower must feel like heaven compared to whatever she had before.

Minutes pass. I return and clear my throat loudly. She freezes behind the fogged glass. "Liora," I call out. "The alarm went off five minutes ago." Silence. "Are you done?" "Coming," she mutters quickly. The water shuts off and a towel wraps tightly around her body before she steps out. Her torn dress, old underwear, and worn sandals are gone from the floor. I'm sitting at the edge of the bed holding folded clothes and a pair of trainers.

"It's not much," I say, handing them over. "We don't exactly have anyone with a waist as small as yours." The outfit is simple navy joggers and a matching sweatshirt. "And the underwear will arrive tomorrow morning," I add casually. "You'll have to survive without it tonight." I raise an eyebrow as she dresses quickly. Joggers first. Sweatshirt second. Then the towel drops and she tosses it aside without hesitation. No teasing, no flirting, no attempt to impress me. She refuses to even look at me. Interesting. Most women would be parading around naked right now if they were alone in my bedroom. Liora just looks like she wants to disappear.

"Let's go," I say, standing. This time she follows immediately. The pack hospital isn't far from the main house. The doctor working tonight is young, nothing like the ancient coward from her old pack. She looks up when we walk in, quickly tying her dark hair into a bun. "Raven," I say, gesturing to the girl beside me. "This is Liora." Liora keeps her eyes lowered.

"Alpha Dane," Raven greets with a friendly smile before glancing curiously at Liora. "What seems to be the problem... aside from the strange scent she brought with her?" The comment isn't cruel. Just curious.

"She'll tell you herself when she finds her tongue," I reply dryly.

"I have a wound," Liora whispers finally. Raven's brows knit together. "And you're not healing?"

"I... don't have my wolf." The words sound like a confession. Like shame.

"Her wolf was bound when she was a child," I explain calmly. "That's why her scent is strange. The wolf is still there... locked away and waiting to be freed." Liora's eyes flicker up at me in shock. She'd always believed her wolf was gone. Not trapped. Raven stares at her for a moment, clearly fascinated. "Wow... okay," she says softly before grabbing Liora's hand. "Come with me. Let's take a look at that wound of yours."