Chapter Three
1733 Words
POV: Richardson
The morning sun filtered weakly through the drawn blinds. I sat upright, spine stiff against the headboard, legs stretched out before me. My arms felt heavier than usual, and the pulse in my wrist was still irregular. The remnants of the toxin hadn’t completely left, but I had enough clarity now to realize how much things had shifted – not just in my body, but in the room.
Shuntelle hadn’t smiled once today. She moved around me with that same effortless precision, all calm hands and sterile touches. But there was a wall now. Yesterday, she’d listen to my dry jokes and a flicker of something human in her eyes – something warm. Today, she was a ghost in a lit, answers clipped down to single syllables, gaze avoiding mine like it burned.
“You’re quiet,” I said, breaking the silence.
“Your vitals are stabilising. That’s good,” she replied without looking up.
I frowned. “Are you still upset?”
Her pen scratched lightly across her clipboard. “No. You’re improving. That’s what matters.”
I almost scoffed. Almost.
“Didn’t sound like that yesterday.”
She finally looked at me. Her gaze was calm, professional and unreadable.
“Yesterday, I forgot I was a professional.”
Before I could respond, the door swung open.
The air shifted. The command was entered before the person did. My mother.
She didn’t knock. Didn’t hesitate. Her presence filled the room like wildfire – elegant, exacting, dangerous.
“My dear,” she said, striding over, her gaze scanning the monitors. “You look less pale.”
“Good morning,” I muttered.
Her attention shifted. “And you must be the toxin expert?”
Shuntelle stood straighter. “Yes. I’m Shuntelle Steele.”
My mother’s eyes narrowed slightly, just enough to register disapproval. “Pleasure. Thank you for reviving my son,” she said with a thin-lipped smile.
“Just doing what I love to do.”
“Mm.” My mother didn’t bother hiding her skepticism. “You may leave us. I’d like a word with my son.”
Shuntelle frowned then gave me one last glance – quick, unreadable – before she stepped away. “No problem. I’m done here anyway.”
The door clicked shut.
Mother’s voice dropped, all fire and steel. “I can see what’s happening.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb,” her eyes flared. “I can see the way you look at her. She’s human, Richardson. Human.”
I exhaled. “She’s also the only one who figured out how to stabilize the poison. If you came here to discredit her–”
“I’m not discrediting her. I’m questioning you,” she snapped. “You’ve forgotten who you are. You’re not a boy chasing warmth – you’re an Alpha.”
“I haven’t forgotten–”
“Haven’t you?” Her voice cut deeper now. “You were poisoned, Richardson. Nearly killed. That wasn’t an accident. Someone wanted you gone. And instead of preparing for war, you’re bonding with a human nurse and playing patient in this glass box while Warborn whispers rebellion.”
I clenched my jaw, eyes narrowing.
“You’re too relaxed. Flirting with a human? Nadia is waiting. The pack is waiting. “Celestine told me he tried to remind you of your duties. That you ignored him.” That made me flinch.
“You came here because Celestine ran to you?”
“I’m here,” she snapped, “because I will not let my son throw away his crown chasing a fleeting emotion.”
“You don’t get to choose love, not when it opens doors to your throat. You’re too exposed. And Celestine–where is he, anyway? He’s left you in a building with one human and a single posted guard.”
“He had an emergency,” I replied, too quickly.
“That’s convenient. Still, I’ll be assigning one of my own to remain here until your recovery is complete.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“You need structure,” she snapped. Then her voice gentled. “I love you. But I won’t sit back and watch your father’s legacy burn because you forgot how to rule.”
She brushed a strand of hair from my face like I was five years old again. “I’ll return in three days. Please be more… aligned by then.” And just like that, she was gone.
The door clicked shut, and silence rushed back in. My thoughts ran wild–each one a loud, unkind truth. Celestine’s absence wasn’t unusual… but it was suddenly suspicious. Where did he go? And why did I accept his excuse so easily?
Because I was distracted. By her.
I’d let the warmth in Shuntelle’s presence cloud my judgment. That wasn’t just foolish–it was dangerous. My father used to say, “To lead a kingdom, you must first kill your softness.” I never thought I’d have to do it literally.
Hours passed with the guard posted by the window stood statue-still, trained to listen, trained not to speak. Where was Celestine, anyway?
I’d barely seen him since I got here. Said something vague about an emergency at home. And I’d let it slide. Let everything slide, because I was too focused on…Shuntelle. Damn it.
I had let her in too easily. Not just into my recovery–but into my thoughts. My judgment. Love had no place in leadership. I knew that. Sacrifice was the price of the throne – I had learned that early.
So when she returned, clipboard in hand, her steps calm and her eyes hollow, I pretended not to care.
“That was your mother,” she said, not asking.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
She didn’t stop writing. “This is your final dose for the day. You’re recovering fast.”
Her fingers brushed my arm as she prepped the injection. A jolt sparked through me at the contact – not from the drug, but from her. That softness. That care or maybe it was just duty.
She didn’t ask if I was okay nor did she look at me and it burned.
“Standard procedure,” she said, prepping the monitor. “I’ll stay an hour to observe.”
“Sure. Do your job.” I said it was colder than I meant.
She looked up, puzzled, then sighed. “Are you okay?” There it was. The concern or professionalism wearing its mask again – I couldn’t tell.
I looked her straight in the eye. “You don’t have to pretend to care. I’m your assignment. Let’s just keep it that way.”
Her jaw clenched. Just a flicker.
“Got it,” she said, turning away. “You’re just my patient. Nothing more.” That stung more than it should have.
The next hour was hell. She stayed seated, mostly quiet, eyes fixed on her tablet, logging vitals. I hated how careful she was with the silence, like she knew it could break us if we touched it too hard.
Finally, I stood up deliberately. She snapped her head up. “What are you doing?”
“Letting you see I’m not broken.”
“You can’t stand for long yet. Sit back down, please.”
“The faster I recover, the faster you leave. Right?”
She hesitated. “Right.”
The door opened before either of us could say more, and Celestine walked in.
His presence filled the room like static – too calm, too perfectly timed. His eyes flicked to me, then to Shuntelle, then to the guards.
“Your mother was here?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Where were you?”
He didn’t blink. “Home. Kathryn had an incident.”
Just like that. Simple. Dismissive. But something in me paused. Kathryn? An incident? That’s all I get?
“She’s fine now,” he added. “I came back as soon as I could.”
I nodded slowly. “Of course.”
He turned to Shuntelle. “How’s he doing?”
“Good progress,” she replied, still not looking at me. “Which makes this the right time to inform you – I won’t be continuing the therapy.”
The air dropped.
“What?” Celestine’s voice lost its polish. “You’re… quitting?”
“I’ve recommended a colleague to the agency. He’ll arrive tomorrow. His name is Derek. You’ll have his file tonight.”
“You can’t just hand off a classified case–”
“I can when the environment is counterproductive,” she said, calm and cool. “Do your checks. He’s cleared.”
Celestine narrowed his eyes. “Is this because of the client?” He gestured to me.
“I don’t work well in unstable environments. And I certainly don’t work where boundaries are blurred.” Her gaze passed over me like I was furniture. I didn’t argue.
Celestine looked between us. “You’re okay with this?”
“Let her go,” I said. The words tasted sour. “If she wants to leave, let her.”
Celestine looked at me like I had lost my mind. Maybe I had.
“Very well,” she said, already halfway out. “You’re in good hands.” She didn’t look back.
———-
Hours later, the door creaked open again.
The man who walked in was tall, smooth, every move practiced. He carried a black case like her and wore a matte bracelet on his wrist that pulsed faintly.
“This is Derek Sage,” Shuntelle said quietly. “Expert toxicologist and he’ll be taking over from me.”
Celestine greeted him with a nod, but I noticed it–the stiffness, the cautious eye-scan. Derek smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
He introduced himself calmly, politely. But the moment he stepped fully into the room, something shifted. The air tightened. My wolf stirred.
And then I saw it–just for a second–the faint glow from that bracelet.
My body tensed and my breath shortened. I let out a low growl.
Celestine stiffened beside me. His eyes darkened. Something was off. My vision blurred and my chest tightened. Derek wasn’t here to heal me. My wolf knew it before I did.
- Writer
