Page 39 of Alpha's Revenge Luna

“Damn it, Emery!” I hiss under my breath as her limp form rests against my chest. The moon’s cold light reveals the path back to the packhouse, casting sinister shadows that seem to mock our every step as I carry her back through the dense forest. Emery squirms in my arms, coming in and out of consciousness, I fed too much on her, she’s lost a lot of blood.

The scent of blood and death clings to me. There were too many, I had no choice but to retreat with Kyrio or risk losing him, too. Men–my men–are dead because of her reckless actions.

“Dion,” she murmurs, eyes fluttering open with an effort. “I didn’t mean for…”

“Save your excuses,” I snap, cutting off her feeble attempt at explaining herself. Her piercing eyes, once filled with determination and defiance, now hold a glimmer of fear. Good. She needs to understand the gravity of her actions.

“Please,” she whispers, clinging to consciousness. “I told her to warn them not…”

I narrow my eyes, weighing the sincerity in her words. Emery, despite her stubbornness, is going to get herself killed.

“Listen closely,” I command, my voice low and dangerous.

“You will follow my orders from here on out, unquestionably. If you so much as think about putting this pack in danger again, I won’t hesitate to take action.

Understand?” My wolf growls in my head at my words, he hated keeping her in the dungeons, but also knew I may have killed her had she been near me.

Emery swallows hard. Her vulnerability at this moment gives me pause–a side of her that few have seen, let alone myself. Despite my distrust and anger, something within me softens, ever so slightly, when I see her struggling with such a simple action such as nodding.

She groans, lifting her hand to her neck, but even that she struggles with, and her arm falls limply, dangling before she completely goes limp. I stop, maneuvering her so her head rests on my shoulder.

“Emery?” I tap her face as I hoist her higher before sweeping her hair from her neck to reveal it is still bleeding. I run my tongue over my mark, watching as the bleeding slows.

“She needs a doctor, you took too much, and she hasn’t eaten in two days,” my wolf snarls at me.

“She just requires rest, it’s because I marked her,” I tell my wolf, but he snarls.

“Idiot! I don’t feel the bond any stronger, marking her means I should feel her completely!

” he spits at me, and I pause once more, the pack house coming into view through the trees.

I feel for the bond. I felt it when I marked her, I could have sworn it.

Now it’s just a numbing sensation. I can still feel her, but it’s no different from before I marked her.

Shaking off the thought, I continue toward the packhouse.

As we approach, the sun retreats completely, replaced by the flickering glow of stars and packhouse lights. Familiar scents surround us–my pack, my family. But tonight, the air hangs heavy with loss and the scent of salty tears.

Stepping inside, Kyrio is waiting by the door, then follows me upstairs to my room.

Kyrio’s footsteps echo softly behind me. His silence amplifies the turmoil within me, an unspoken current of tension that crackles like a brewing storm. My clenched hands ache from the force of my grip on Emery’s limp form, her breaths shallow and uneven.

“Alpha,” Kyrio mutters, his voice strained. “We need to talk about what happened.”

“Not now, Kyrio!” I snap, the anger in my voice barely contained. “First, I must see to Emery.”

As we reach the door, I kick it open with a surge of force, the impact reverberating through the building. Kyrio winces but remains silent, understanding that now is not the time for confrontation.

I lay Emery down on the bed, her once-vibrant eyes now closed.

My gaze lingers on the mark adorning her neck–the symbol of our bond, yet it looks wrong, I sweep her hair to find it now fading into a sinister black mark.

A knot of panic tightens in my chest, sending tendrils of dread coiling through my mind.

“Emery?” I breathe, my voice breaking at the sight of her mark.

“Alpha,” Kyrio hesitates, shifting uneasily. “We can’t ignore the consequences of her actions. The pack isn’t happy and believe Luna is putting us at risk. We lost men–”

“Enough!” I roar, spinning to face him, my eyes blazing with fury. “I know what we lost, Kyrio. But right now, something is wrong…” my voice trails off and Kyrio steps forward to see what I am talking about.

His eyes meet mine for a moment, he then snaps to attention, the tension in his muscles mirroring my own. Kyrio’s gaze flicks to Emery and then back to me, concern replacing the anger in his eyes.

“I’ll get the pack doctor,” he responds instantly, already moving.

His heavy footsteps echo through the room as I turn back to Emery, her shallow breaths a haunting whisper that sets my nerves on edge.

“Emery,” I murmur, running my thumb across her cold, pallid cheek. The fading mark on her neck stands out like a cruel reminder of our bond fraying before my very eyes. My heart clenches at the thought, fear threatening to choke me.

As Kyrio leaves the room, I brace myself for what comes next. The weight of responsibility, of my role as Alpha, bears down on me with crushing force. She got eight men killed, two of them had chosen mates.

“Damn it!” I mutter under my breath, clenching my fists.

With a deep breath, I scoop Emery up into my arms, her unconscious form light and barely stirring.

Her head lolls against my shoulder, her dark hair spilling over her face.

As I carry her toward the infirmary, each step is punctuated by the racing of my heart.

As I get to the stairs, I mind link Kyrio to tell the pack doctor to meet me in the infirmary.

She’s still, too still. The snarling of my wolf is an incessant noise in the back of my mind, urging me to move faster.

“He’s already there,” Kyrio mind links back, and I pick up my pace, ignoring the staring of my pack members as I move past them.

“Doc!” I call out sharply as I stride through the door, my voice betraying the panic that threatens to consume me.

“Alpha,” the Doc acknowledges as he steps into view, his eyes wide upon seeing Emery’s limp figure. He immediately moves closer, his hands hovering over her body, assessing her condition.

“Her mark is fading and turning black,” I explain, the words feeling like shards of glass lodged in my throat. “I don’t know what it means.”

“Let me take a look.” The Doc gently steps aside, and I place her onto a sterile examination table. He studies the discolored mark on her neck, a furrowed brow betraying his concern.

“Doc, what’s wrong with her? She’ll be alright, right?” I demand, my fingers clenching into fists at my side.

“Has she not woken at all since you marked her?” he asks, prodding the mark with his fingers.

“She’s been in and out of it. I gave her my blood after I marked her,”

“It didn’t heal her mark?” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.

“Alpha, this is rare,” he says hesitantly, eyes not leaving Emery. “There are a few possibilities, but I need to run some tests first.”

“Easy, Alpha,” the Doc warns as he steps forward, his hands outstretched in a calming gesture. “She’s going to be alright.”

My breath comes in ragged gasps, my heart pounding like a wild animal trapped within me. I’m helpless, powerless to do anything for her.

“Alpha?” the Doc questions softly, his voice breaking through the haze of my thoughts.

“Tell me what’s wrong with her,” I demand, my tone laced with barely contained fury.

“Your mate is strong,” he begins cautiously, searching for the right words. “But this…this blackening mark is something I’ve never encountered before.”

My gaze lingers on the blackening mark on her neck, bile rising in my throat.

“What does it mean, Doc?” I demand, my voice a low growl.

Doc’s hands hover above Emery, his brow furrowed as he contemplates the situation. “It’s rare for a mark between fated mates to fade like this. It could be due to high doses of wolfsbane or Belladonna. Or because she isn’t of age to shift.”

The words hit like a blow, a sinister dance of possibilities that I’m not ready to face. My fists clench at my sides, anger and desperation warring within me.

“She hasn’t shifted,” I tell Doc, each word laden with the strain of frustration.

Doc sighs, his brow furrowed in contemplation. “You must remember, Dion, the traum a Emery has endured is not insignificant,” he says, his voice measured and calm. “It reminds me of what Anastasia went through.”

“Emery is not Anastasia!” I snap, my eyes never leaving her prone form. “She won’t crumble under the weight of this.”

“Of course, Alpha,” Doc concedes, his hands raised placating.

“But we cannot ignore the fact the healing process takes time, physically and emotionally.”

I know his words are true, but they do little to pacify the storm of emotions brewing within me. As Alpha, I’m accustomed to taking action, to solving problems with decisive force. But here, with Emery’s life hanging in a precarious balance, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m powerless.

“Then what do you suggest, Doc?” I growl, my fingers digging into my palms.

“Patience,” he replies simply.

“Patience is not my strong suit,” I admit, the weight of guilt heavy on my shoulders.

“Alpha, it’s a complex process. If Emery’s body can’t recognize you as her mate, it could reject the mark.”

“Reject?” The word is a blade, slicing through the taut silence. “Is that it then? She just rejects me, and it’s over?”

“Calm, Alpha,” Doc urges, his voice a low, steady current amidst the storm of my rage. “This sort of thing, usually it only happens if the wolf is dying or from other influences.”

“What do you mean other influences?” I ask.