Maya's POV
It started with the children. I was scrubbing the floors in the main hall when I heard the first mother crying. Sarah Martinez, one of the pack's beta wives, was carrying her five-year-old son Tommy, the same boy who'd been putting silver in my food and he was burning with fever, his small body limp in her arms.
"Please," she begged Dr. Harrison as he examined the child in the medical wing. "He was fine yesterday morning, playing in the gardens. Now he won't eat, won't speak, can barely stay awake."
From my position mopping nearby, invisible as always, I watched the doctor frown over Tommy's pale, sweating form. The boy's lips had a strange bluish tint, and his breathing was shallow and labored.
"Has he eaten anything unusual?" Dr. Harrison asked. "Been anywhere he shouldn't
