Survivor

Healing Jadon

Three days of recovery, and the dungeon's wounds have begun to fade. Evan stopped by this morning before heading out to train, and I'm itching to join him. The stillness is driving me crazy. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, bracing for pain that never comes. My fingers find the bandage wrapped around my leg, unwinding it slowly. Where angry gashes and purple bruises should be, there's nothing but smooth, unmarked skin. My shin looks brand new, as if the torture never happened. With trembling hands, I unwrap my wrist to find the same impossible healing there too.

"Jade?" I call out, my voice barely above a whisper. The silence stretches for a moment before her familiar presence floods my mind. "Good morning," she says, her voice warm and comforting. "Sorry I was gone so long, but we're together again." A single tear escapes, trailing down my cheek before I can stop it.

"I was terrified while you were gone," I whispered to Jade in my mind. "I thought I'd lost you forever." I feel her presence warm and strengthen within me as she responds. "A mere cocktail of nightshade and wolfsbane isn't enough to break our bond," she assures me, her mental voice carrying a hint of pride. "Though I'd prefer we avoid that particular mixture again—it packs quite the punch."

I stare at my healed skin, bewildered. Three days shouldn't be enough time. Even for werewolves, this recovery defies explanation. "Jade," I whisper in my mind, "is this normal?" Her presence ripples through my consciousness. "We aren't like the others," she replies, her voice tinged with pride. "Our healing is exceptional, even among our kind." I swung my legs over the bed, testing my weight. No pain. My muscles ache for movement after days of confinement. "Ready to stretch our legs?" Jade asks eagerly. I nod, already picturing myself joining the training session outside.

The hot water from the shower washes away the last traces of my confinement. I dress quickly in blue and purple yoga pants and a black tank top, pulling my damp hair into a tight ponytail before lacing up my tennis shoes. The sounds of training wolves reach my ears before I even reach the field. A crowd has gathered—mostly female pack members, I notice—their attention fixed on something I can't yet see.

The familiar scent of cedar and fresh rain drift through the air. Evan. As I edged closer, I spotted him in the center ring, his powerful form dodging and weaving as he spars with one of his warriors. I start to retreat, not wanting to interrupt, when a familiar voice calls my name. Jace approaches, a friendly smile lighting his face.

I return Jace's friendly smile as he approaches. "Hey Jadon, about to start training want to join?" he asks, gesturing toward an empty ring. After days confined to bed, my muscles practically beg for movement.

We cross to the vacant training circle, and Jace flashes a confident grin. "Don't worry, I'll go easy on you," he promises. I respond with nothing but a laugh before dropping into a fighting stance. He launches forward with a forearm strike that I dodge by a hair's breadth. Pivoting on my back foot, I unleash a roundhouse kick that connects solidly with his side—first attempt, direct hit.

Jace unleashes a flurry of quick jabs, landing a few that sting my ribs. I pivot, countering with two sharp strikes followed by a roundhouse kick that catches him off-guard. His eyes widen as my foot connects with his side. My follow-up jab meets his forearm as he finally manages to block. Between breaths, I notice pack members gathering around our ring, their curious eyes tracking our movements.

We trade blows in a dance of attack and defense until a familiar scent distracts me. Evan slides between the onlookers and into the ring, his eyes locked on Jace.

"Don’t Hurt her," he says with a deceptively casual tone, "and you'd be answering to me." He claps Jace's shoulder, his laugh not quite reaching his eyes. I roll my eyes at his possessiveness, fully aware of the whispers rippling through the crowd. They're all wondering about me, the newcomer who's caught their Alpha's attention.

Evan's fingers close around mine as he pulls me against his chest. "Let them wonder about us a little longer," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "I want the doctor to check on your healing before you do any more training." I roll my eyes but can't help smiling as he takes charge.

"Thanks for the match," I tell Jace, who steps forward to hug me goodbye. The sound that rumbles from Evan's chest is unmistakably possessive, a low growl that only makes Jace laugh. Before I can react, Evan positions himself between us, reclaims my hand, and leads me toward the pack house. In his bedroom, his eyes take on that distant focus I've come to recognize—he's mind-linking someone, and from his concerned expression, I'm certain it's the doctor.

returns to the present. "Who were you talking to just now?" I ask. His brow furrows as he studies my face.

"The doctor. I asked him to examine you," Evan says, crossing his arms. "No one heals that quickly, Jadon. You shouldn't have been training at all." I bite my lower lip. "So, I'm different from your pack too?" "I just want to make sure you're alright," he says, voice softening.

I nod, trying to hide my unease. "I'm as surprised as you are. I expected weeks of recovery, especially when I couldn't reach Jade. Now that she's back..." I trail off, the question I can't quite voice hanging between us: what else might be wrong with me?

We settle onto the couch, my head falling back against the cushions as I study the ceiling's texture. Evan's fingers find mine, squeezing gently. "Your healing isn't wrong, Jadon," he says, his voice low and certain. "It's extraordinary—like you." His thumb traces circles on my palm. "My little phoenix," he adds softly. I turn to face him, curiosity momentarily displacing my worry. "Why do you call me that?" The corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile, his eyes warming. "Because phoenixes rise from destruction," he says. "What would have broken others only made you stronger."

"I understand why you call me that now," I say, warmth spreading through my chest. A sharp knock interrupts the moment. Evan presses his lips to the crown of my head before answering the door, stepping aside to reveal the doctor.

"How are you feeling tonight, Jadon?" The doctor approaches, medical bag in hand. "Alpha tells me your injuries have already healed."

I offer a tentative smile as he wraps the blood pressure cuff around my arm. "Vitals show remarkable improvement," he notes, eyebrows lifting slightly. "Let's examine those injuries."

I extend my wrist. His cool fingers probe the skin, bending and rotating the joint with practiced precision. "Extraordinary," he murmurs. "No fractures, not even a residual bruise." "Is something wrong with me?" The question tumbles out before I can stop it. The doctor's eyes crinkle. "You're completely healed, and you're worried something's wrong?" He shakes his head, then bends to examine my shin. The puzzled expression that crosses his face sends a chill down my spine.

The doctor straightens, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he studies me. Evan clears his throat. "Your assessment, Doctor?" The physician's eyes narrow. "The broken bones have completely healed, but... may I examine your back, Jadon?" I glanced at Evan, seeking his reaction. He offers a reassuring smile, moving closer. "I'll help you," he says softly, his fingers already reaching for the hem of my shirt.

I turn on the bed, allowing Evan to lift my shirt for the doctor's examination. After a moment of silence, the doctor clears his throat. "That's sufficient, Alpha," he murmurs, and I feel the fabric settle back against my skin. Evan moves beside me, his fingers finding mine as he addresses the doctor. "Your assessment of her healing rate?" The doctor paces before us, his brow furrowed in concentration, one hand absently stroking his chin. We wait in tense silence, my pulse quickening with each step he takes across the floor.

"That marking on your back," the doctor says, his voice careful. "Is it a birthmark? “Yes, it's a birthmark," I answer, shifting uncomfortably under their scrutiny. "Though it's unusual—it darkens and lightens with the moon phases. It's subtle enough that most people never notice." I pause, fingers unconsciously tracing the pattern through my shirt. "I've had it since I was a baby. No one ever explained where it came from."

"The scar on my back has been there since childhood," I explain, shifting under their gaze. "Raven told me once that it came from an attack when I was too young to remember. I've never known the full story."