Episode 3
1419 Words
Aurora POV
10 years later
"The infection is responding well to treatment. Follow this regimen exactly, and you'll see dramatic improvement within days." I slid the prescription across my polished desk, watching relief flood the man's weathered face.
He clutched the paper like salvation itself. "They said you were a miracle worker, Dr. Aldrich. Now I believe them."
I offered my perfected professional smile—the one I'd spent a decade crafting. "The pharmacy is down the hall to your right. Nadine will handle everything from there."
As he shuffled out, murmuring gratitude, I allowed myself precisely three seconds of silence before reaching for the next file. In those fleeting moments, the absurdity of my transformation struck me. Ten years ago: a terrified fugitive with nothing but a compass and an unborn child. Now: respected physician with credentials gleaming on office walls that whispered success.
The door swung open, revealing a woman whose carefully composed facade couldn't mask the panic radiating from her eyes.
"Mrs. Drake," I gestured to the chair. "Please, sit."
She perched on the edge, fingers interlaced so tightly her knuckles blanched white. "The results came back positive, didn't they?"
I nodded once, clinically. "Yes. But we've caught it extraordinarily early."
"I'm going to die," she whispered, voice fracturing. "My children will grow up without me."
Something primal tightened in my chest. The terror in her eyes mirrored what had driven me into the night a decade ago—the visceral fear of failing to protect a child.
I leaned forward, abandoning my practiced facade for raw authenticity. "Listen carefully, Mrs. Drake. When my son was in my womb, I outran death itself to keep him safe. Your situation requires something far simpler—follow the treatment plan. Your odds aren't just good, they're exceptional."
She blinked rapidly. "But my son—he had that wound—could he be infected too? Is this genetic? Could my other children—"
"The condition isn't hereditary," I interjected softly. "Bring your children tomorrow. We'll replace uncertainty with facts through comprehensive testing."
Her shoulders relaxed visibly. "You don't know what this means."
"I understand perfectly," I replied, and for once, it wasn't merely a professional platitude.
After she departed, I exhaled slowly, grateful as the memory of my own panic receded. Ten years gone, yet the threat that had chased me from Sturgeon Moon Pack still haunted my peripheral vision. Death hadn't forgotten us; it had merely suspended its pursuit.
I was packing my bag when the door burst open without warning.
"Escaping already, Rory?" Reginald strode in, arms laden with files, voice playfully accusatory.
I stepped back, pointedly checking my watch. "I stayed two hours past my shift. My son is waiting."
"Ah, yes. Young Arne." He deposited the stack on my desk with theatrical effort. "All the more reason to consider my offer."
"Reggie—"
"The Medical Center in Athens wants you as department head," he pressed. "Triple your salary, unlimited research budget, luxury housing—"
"And you'd coincidentally be there too," I remarked dryly.
A calculating smile spread across his face. "I'd be reporting to you. The legendary Dr. Aldrich, revolutionizing immunology across Europe."
I massaged my temples. "The Waxing Crescent Pack sheltered me when no one else would. They protected my son, educated me—"
"And you've repaid that debt tenfold," Reginald interrupted. "Greece needs you more."
Meeting his gaze directly, I said, "I'll consider it. Seriously this time."
His eyes brightened. "Don't deliberate too long. Opportunities like this vanish quickly."
Driving home, the setting sun slashed shadows across the road in alternating segments of darkness and light—much like the decade stretching between the terrified omega who fled with nothing but desperation and an unborn child, and the woman I'd become.
My car barely stopped before Arne burst through the front door, those golden eyes—*his* eyes—blazing with excitement.
"Mom! You're early!" he exclaimed, wriggling free from his nanny's grasp.
Audrey, the teenage werewolf who watched him after school, jogged behind. "I tried keeping him inside, Dr. Rory. He heard your car from three blocks away."
I swept my son into my arms, inhaling his scent—pine needles and sunshine, blessedly free of his father's intimidating musk. "Supernatural hearing has its disadvantages. Thank you for today, Audrey."
She shifted awkwardly. "You don't need me to stay? I don't mind."
"Join us for dinner," I offered. "Arne clearly enjoys your company."
"I beat her at chess twice!" Arne announced proudly.
Audrey smiled, then her expression shifted. "Oh! A letter arrived for you. It seemed... significant. I left it on the dining table."
"It has a shiny gold stamp, Mom," Arne added, voice tinged with wonder.
The world tilted beneath me as I entered the dining room. There, centered perfectly on polished mahogany, sat an envelope bearing the unmistakable royal crest of Sturgeon Moon Pack.
My hands trembled violently as I tore it open, expecting deportation orders or threats. Instead, raw desperation seeped through every meticulously penned word:
*Dear Dr. Rory Aldrich,*
*Our pack faces extinction. A devastating plague sweeps through our territory, claiming nearly sixty percent of our population. All conventional treatments have failed.*
*We've been made aware of your groundbreaking research in lycanthropic immune disorders. As the world's foremost authority in this field, you represent our final hope.*
*We implore you to return to Sturgeon Moon Pack and combat this epidemic before our bloodline is forever erased from history.*
*With desperate urgency,*
*The Royal House of Sturgeon Moon Pack*
Molten rage coursed through my veins. The same royal seal that had once demanded the death of my unborn child now begged salvation from the "impure" woman they'd condemned.
I didn't realize I was shredding the letter until Arne's voice pierced my fury.
"Mom? What's wrong? Your eyes are glowing!"
His small voice shattered the tension constricting my chest. Those wide, perceptive eyes—too much like his father's—fixed unwaveringly on mine.
I drew a sharp breath, forcing my features to soften. "Nothing, sweetheart," I whispered, tucking a wayward curl behind his ear. "Just... an unexpected invitation."
His nose scrunched adorably. "Like a birthday party?"
"Something like that," I answered, though the venom coursing through my body told a different story.
Momentarily satisfied, Arne skipped back toward Audrey, his laughter carefree and innocent.
I clutched the torn fragments tighter, the scraps of paper spreading across the table like prophetic bones, each fragment whispering warnings.
Reginald's offer. Greece. An entire ocean between us and the past.
My throat constricted painfully. Sturgeon Moon Pack was another world entirely, far more distant than my current sanctuary.
And distance... distance had kept us alive this long.
I stared at the shattered remnants of my past, mind racing. Perhaps it was time to run again.
A soft breeze stirred through the open window, carrying with it a scent that shouldn't exist here—pine forests and mountain streams from a territory thousands of miles away. I froze, every muscle tensing.
The silver compass—the one I'd kept hidden in my bedroom drawer for a decade—suddenly grew warm against my thigh through the pocket of my lab coat.
Arne's laughter abruptly ceased.
"Mom," he called, voice suddenly different—deeper, more resonant than any nine-year-old's should be. "Someone's watching our house."
I whirled toward the window, wolf senses instantly alert. Nothing visible in the gathering twilight, but my instincts screamed danger.
Then I saw it—a shadow detaching itself from the treeline, moving with inhuman grace.
Silver eyes gleamed in the darkness.
"Get away from the windows," I ordered sharply, pulling Arne behind me as Zoey surged within, ready to protect our cub.
The shadow approached, resolving into a tall figure with familiar midnight-black hair.
The compass burned against my leg as if responding to his presence.
"Hello, little wolf," came that velvet voice I'd never forgotten. "It seems the time for running has ended."
He stepped into the porch light, revealing the same face from that fateful night a decade ago, completely unchanged—and the same three interlocking circles with a crescent moon tattooed on his wrist.
"The Shadow Council sends its regards," he said softly. "And a message: The false Alpha is dying. The crown awaits its rightful heir."
My blood turned to ice as his gaze shifted meaningfully to Arne, who stood transfixed beside me.
"The son of the true Alpha bloodline," he whispered. "The last hope of Sturgeon Moon Pack.”
- Writer
