Chapter 14
1260 Words
KAEL POV
“Are you going again?”
The words escape me before I can stop them. My voice is quiet, scratchy, but it stops her.
Selene stands at the door, her hand still on the knob. She turns, and there it is—that smile. Soft. Sweet. Too polished.
“I have to, love,” she says, walking back toward me. “You know the herbs only grow at night.”
I try to sit up, but wince. Fake. Calculated. I’ve been doing this for days now. Weeks maybe. I’m not even sure anymore.
“Don’t leave me tonight,” I whisper. “I’m cold. I feel… worse.”
She kneels beside me, brushing my damp hair from my forehead.
“These herbs are the only reason you’re still breathing,” she says gently. “You know that, Kael.”
“Can’t someone else go?”
She pauses, just for a second. Then smiles again. “No one else knows what to look for. I’ll be back before dawn. I promise.”
She kisses my cheek.
And then she’s gone.
Again.
---
She always leaves at night.
Sometimes for hours. Sometimes days.
When she returns, she smells like smoke and wild things. And I drink her tea. I eat her food. Because I’m dying. Because she says I’ll die without her.
And I believed her.
Because she stayed.
Even when I lost my strength.
Even when my wolf stopped answering me.
Even when I stopped being me.
---
The next morning, Dorian shows up like he always does—annoyed but loyal.
He pushes the door open without knocking. His boots thud across the floor as he tosses a brown paper bag on the table.
“Stew,” he says. “Don’t get excited, I didn’t make it. I'm not suicidal.”
I manage a weak chuckle. “Bless you.”
He walks over, arms crossed, eyes scanning me from head to toe.
“You look like shit.”
“I feel like s**t,” I reply, forcing a shaky breath.
“Still on the teas?” he asks.
I nod.
He sighs and sits down. “Kael, I’ve been coming here every damn day for months. You’re not getting better.”
“She’s trying.”
“She’s supposed to be the best healer in the west.”
“She is.”
“Then why are you still one breath away from death?”
His voice is sharper now, eyes locked on mine. I look away.
“Maybe it’s something deeper,” I mutter. “Maybe this can’t be healed.”
“Bullshit.” He leans in. “You used to take down warriors twice your size. You once fought for three days straight. And now you’re wasting away, and no one can touch you. Not even your wolf.”
That part stings.
“Maybe he’s tired,” I whisper.
“Or maybe he’s being drugged,” Dorian snaps.
My eyes shoot to him.
He softens slightly. “Look, I’m not saying she’s evil. I’m saying—watch her. Keep your head up. Even a poisoned wolf still has teeth.”
He stands and heads to the door. “I’ll check in tomorrow.”
I nod slowly, staring at the untouched mug of tea beside my bed.
Too damn tired.
Then I remember—I need to return that call from the patrol captain.
I reach for my phone on the table.
My elbow bumps into something.
Glass.
The jar of brewed herbs tips and crashes to the floor.
The liquid seeps into the cracks between the wooden planks. My first instinct is to panic—I’ve wasted the one thing keeping me alive. But then… the smell hits.
Bitter. Sharp. Metallic. Like rusted nails soaked in wet leaves.
I crouch down and dip two fingers into the dark puddle.
It burns.
Fast. Fierce. I yank my hand back and wipe it on my pants.
What the hell am I drinking?
---
That night, I don’t touch anything she left.
No food. No tea.
I sleep.
For the first time in what feels like years, I don’t sweat through the sheets. I don’t wake choking. I don’t hallucinate.
I wake up clear-headed. Stronger. Not whole… but not broken.
The next morning, I stay in bed and play the part. When Dorian comes to check in, I tell him I had a rough night. He doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t push.
Selene doesn’t come back that night. Or the one after.
Three days pass.
And I prepare.
I stop drinking water to dry out my lips. Smudge charcoal beneath my eyes. Keep my voice raspy and my breath shallow. I count the minutes. The hours. I let my beard grow. Let my scent go stale.
By the third evening, the door creaks open again.
She’s back.
“Kael?”
Her voice is soft, concerned. I don’t respond.
“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Her footsteps quicken. She’s beside me in a heartbeat. “I couldn’t come sooner. The herbs were hard to find.”
I manage a wheeze. “You… were gone so long.”
“I had to climb the cliffs. They only grow on shadowed soil. I couldn’t trust anyone else.”
“Why not send a messenger?”
She hesitates. “They wouldn’t know what to look for. They’d ruin the roots.”
She strokes my face. “I do this for you. Because I love you.”
She goes to the corner of the room and sets down her pack. Begins grinding, boiling, stirring. She hums an old tune. It used to make me feel safe.
Now it makes my skin crawl.
She pours the tea. Places the cup near me.
“Drink slowly,” she says, “this batch is stronger. It’ll help you sleep.”
She heads toward the bathroom to clean up.
I grab the mug the second she’s gone and tip it out the window.
Gone. Like the last three.
She comes back minutes later in a towel, hair damp, cheeks pink.
“You finished it?” she asks.
I nod weakly.
She smiles and kisses my forehead. “Good. You’ll feel better by morning.”
I already do.
---
For the next two nights, I fake it.
The hacking cough. The shaking hands. The limp.
But deep down, my strength grows.
My wolf stirs.
Tonight, she leaves again.
I wait. Then I rise.
My legs hold firm beneath me. I slip through the hall, following her scent.
I find her lab.
Locked.
I pick it open with a pin I bent days ago.
Inside, the room smells of crushed herbs, burnt ash, and death.
I search everything. Scrolls. Drawers. Cabinets.
Then I find it.
A locked case under her mixing table.
I break it open with a blade.
Inside: a thick file.
Labeled in her handwriting:
Subject K
My chest tightens.
I flip it open.
My photo.
Handwritten notes:
“Progression: 89%”
“Stage 3: Emotional dependency locked.”
“Stage 4: Cognitive failure expected by week 72.”
And beneath that:
“Administer final dose before resurgence.—terminate.”
My stomach churns.
I drop the file.
Step back.
Then I see it.
Another folder tucked beneath.
Thinner. Labeled in red ink:
Secondary Subject R.
I open it.
And I freeze.
“Phase Two: Wipe. Total extraction recommended. No emotional tether to remain.”
My breath catches in my throat.
Why would Selene want to destroy her too?
What did we do?
What the hell is going on?
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