Sophie sat on the infirmary bed, her wrists no longer bound—but the silence around her was a prison of its own.
A healer approached with a clipboard. “Surgery is scheduled in three days."
She flinched. “Have you told him about the risks?"
“I have," the healer said quietly. “He ordered it anyway."
Sophie gripped the sheet beneath her. “And you're going to obey?"
The healer hesitated, eyes softening. “It's not about obedience. It's survival—for the pack, for Fiona. You're the only match."
“I'm also the one who's going to die."
He didn't answer.
---
Later that night, Dylan entered the infirmary. Alone.
Sophie sat upright. “You finally came."
“I came to make this clear," he said flatly. “You will sign the consent form by morning."
“And if I don't?"
His jaw tensed. “Then you'll be
