EPISODE FOUR: A TEST OF TRUST
1065 Words
Ayla’s breath hitched as she was yanked backward, her feet barely skimming the ground before she was slammed against the cold stone wall of the packhouse. The impact sent a jolt of pain through her spine, but before she could regain her footing, a strong hand gripped her throat, pinning her in place.
She gasped, her fingers clawing at the wrist restraining her, her nails digging into flesh but finding no weakness in the iron grip. The pressure wasn’t enough to cut off her air completely, but it was a warning—a promise of what would come if she dared resist.
Silver eyes burned in the dim torchlight. Kael.
His face was a mask of control, but the fury simmering beneath his expression was unmistakable. His body radiated tension, his presence overwhelming as he loomed over her.
“I asked you a question,” he said coldly, his voice devoid of warmth. “What game are you playing?”
Ayla fought to remain calm despite the rush of fear clawing at her insides. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, but she forced herself to ignore it, to focus. The gathered pack members stood frozen, watching the scene unfold with wary eyes.
They were waiting. Waiting for her to c***k. Waiting for her to show weakness.
If she faltered now, if she hesitated for even a moment, she would lose everything.
So she swallowed the panic rising in her throat and met Kael’s gaze with unwavering defiance.
“I told you,” she rasped, her voice raw from the pressure against her throat. “I can save him.”
His fingers flexed slightly, tightening before relaxing again. Not enough to choke, but enough to remind her who held the power.
His silver eyes searched hers, cold and assessing. “And I’m supposed to believe that?” His tone was laced with suspicion, sharp enough to cut. “A rogue. A stranger. Just happens to appear the moment we need a healer?”
Ayla’s nails dug deeper into his wrist. A silent act of rebellion.
“If I wanted him dead,” she gritted out, “I wouldn’t have stepped forward.” She struggled for breath, but refused to let her voice waver. “Now, are you going to waste time questioning me, or are you going to let me do what no one else here can?”
A muscle ticked In Kael’s jaw. He didn’t like being challenged. Especially not in front of his pack.
The weight of watching eyes pressed down on him just as much as it did her.
The warrior on the ground let out a weak, rattling breath. His life was slipping away with every passing second.
Finally, with a low growl, Kael released her with a sharp shove.
Ayla stumbled forward, coughing as she rubbed her sore neck, but she didn’t waste time. There was no room for hesitation.
Dropping to her knees beside the dying warrior, she assessed his wounds with practiced precision. Blood had soaked through his tunic, pooling beneath him, the scent thick in the air. His breathing was erratic, his skin clammy, lips tinged with a faint blue.
Too much blood loss. Too little time.
Her fingers pressed against his abdomen, feeling the deep gash just beneath her hands. The wound was wide, but it hadn’t hit anything immediately fatal. If she could stop the bleeding now, he had a chance.
Tearing a strip from the hem of her dress, she pressed it firmly against the wound. “I need hot water, clean cloth, and any healing salves you have,” she ordered, her tone sharp and unwavering.
The gathered wolves hesitated, their distrust thick in the air. Their eyes flickered toward Kael, waiting for his command.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he gave a sharp nod. “Do as she says.”
The warriors scattered, rushing to obey, their movements filled with urgency. Within moments, supplies were thrust into her hands—bowls of steaming water, bundles of cloth, jars of herbal salves.
Ayla worked quickly, her hands moving with practiced efficiency.
She dipped a cloth into the hot water, wringing it out before carefully cleaning the wound. Blood mixed with water, staining her hands red. She ignored the way her fingers trembled, ignored the weight of Kael’s gaze boring into her.
She could feel him watching, feel the heavy suspicion in his eyes.
Minutes stretched into an eternity.
The warrior beneath her let out a low groan, his face twitching in pain as she stitched the torn flesh with steady hands. His pulse, though weak, was no longer fading.
By the time she finished, sweat clung to her skin, her breathing heavy with exhaustion. She sat back on her heels, exhaling deeply, her hands bloodied but steady.
“He’ll live,” she announced.
A murmur rippled through the gathered wolves. Some looked relieved, others uncertain, their expressions guarded. The tension in the courtyard did not ease.
Kael crouched beside her, his gaze scanning the unconscious warrior before flicking back to her.
“Why do you know how to do this?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less sharp.
Ayla wiped her hands on her ruined dress, smearing blood against the fabric. She met his gaze evenly.
“Because I had to.”
Kael studied her, his silver eyes searching hers as if he could pry the truth from her without words.
Ayla didn’t flinch.
Finally, he rose to his feet. “You saved a member of my pack.” His voice carried across the courtyard, reaching every ear. “That means you’re my responsibility now.”
Ayla stiffened. The finality in his words sent a cold ripple down her spine.
She had expected temporary acceptance, a begrudging allowance to stay just long enough to prove herself.
But this?
This was dangerous.
Kael turned to face the watching wolves, his presence commanding as he spoke his next words.
“From this moment on, you will serve as our healer.”
Silence fell. A stunned, breathless silence.
The gathered pack members exchanged glances, some wary, others visibly displeased. The weight of their gazes pressed down on her, but Ayla didn’t react.
She clenched her fists, forcing her expression to remain unreadable.
She had succeeded in getting into the pack.
But now, she was trapped in the lion’s den.
- Writer
