The Beta Who Betrayed Her Pack For the Enemy Alpha

Chapter 4 – The Healer’s Smile

By morning I’d almost convinced myself I’d imagined his scent in the hallway.

Almost.

Dawn light spilled pale and cold through the infirmary windows as I stepped inside. The place smelled like it always did—alcohol wipes, sharp herbs, wolf sweat, and the faint sting of cleaning solvents. Comforting, once. Now it made my skin crawl.

Eryx stood at the central counter, sleeves rolled to his forearms, dark hair tied back. He was sorting vials with quick, efficient movements, laughing quietly with a young omega who winced as he re-wrapped her sprained wrist.

Gentle. Patient. Perfect.

“Don’t overdo it for a few days, Tam,” he said, taping the bandage. “No climbing the watchtower for fun until I say so, understood?”

She blushed. “Yes, Healer Eryx. Thank you.”

She hopped off the cot and nearly ran into me.

“Sorry, Beta!” she squeaked, then flushed even more. “I mean—future Beta. Sorry, Lyris.”

“It’s fine,” I said, stepping aside. My voice sounded oddly far away. “Take it easy, Tam.”

She scampered out, cradling her wrist.

“Early for you,” Eryx said, without looking up. “I expected you to hide under your blankets until noon, after last night.”

I forced my legs to move forward. “And miss your warm bedside manner? Tragic.”

He smirked, finally glancing up. “There she is. I was starting to miss your bite.”

He finished labeling a vial, slid it onto a shelf, then turned fully toward me, resting his hands lightly on the counter.

“Come for anything in particular?” he asked. “Or just to glare at me in my natural habitat?”

“I thought you might want to talk,” I said. “About the contract. About how I made you look like an i***t in front of half the pack.”

His eyes flicked over my face, searching. “You didn’t make me look like an i***t,” he said. “You made yourself look scared.”

The words landed like a slap.

I folded my arms, more to keep my hands from shaking than anything. “Maybe I am scared,” I said. “There’s a lot to be scared of lately.”

He came around the counter, moving close enough that I could smell the familiar blend of soap, steel, and herbs clinging to his skin. No lavender this time. No metallic bite.

“You’re under pressure,” he said softly. “You’re questioning everything. That’s not fear, Lyris. That’s your brain trying to protect you.”

A bitter laugh stuck in my throat. My brain tried to protect me last time. It just did it too late.

“Is that your professional diagnosis?” I asked. “Chronic overthinking?”

He smiled, coaxing. “Chronic responsibility. You’ve been carrying this pack on your shoulders since you were fifteen. Even when you didn’t have to.”

My chest tightened. He was going exactly where he always did when he wanted me pliable—straight for the parts of me I was proud of and ashamed of at the same time.

“You’re allowed to lean on someone,” he went on. “On me. That’s the point of this bond, Lyris. You don’t have to be in control of every decision. That’s what terrifies you, isn’t it?”

What terrified me was how close he was to the truth—for all the wrong reasons.

I made myself meet his eyes. “What terrifies me is the idea of signing something that lets someone else decide when I’m ‘unfit’ to lead,” I said. “Or when my father is.”

Something flickered across his face. “So this is about Darius.”

“It’s about a lot of things.” I kept my tone flat. “But yes. It’s about my father. It’s about the way he’s getting worse, not better, no matter how many ‘new blends’ you put him on.”

A muscle jumped in Eryx’s jaw. He stepped back just enough to fold his arms, mirroring my stance.

“He has a degenerative condition,” he said calmly. “You know that. We’ve talked about that. I’m managing his pain, not curing the impossible.”

“Last night,” I said quietly, “we skipped his evening dose.”

His eyes sharpened. “Without consulting me.”

“Without consulting you,” I agreed. “And this morning he woke up with less tremor than he’s had in weeks.”

Silence dropped, heavy and sharp.

Eryx’s face smoothed out into something very still. “Placebo,” he said finally. “Sometimes skipping a dose makes wolves feel clearer, because they expect to. That doesn’t mean it’s good for them.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe something in that bottle is making him worse.”

“Lyris.” My name came out a warning. “Be careful with your accusations.”

“My father is the pack’s Beta,” I shot back. “If his healer is giving him anything that weakens his mind or body, that’s not a careless mistake. That’s treason.”

His eyes went flat for half a breath, something cold sliding into place behind the healer’s calm. My wolf stiffened.

Then he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like I was a frustrating but beloved patient.

“You refused the contract. You convinced your father to play games with his dosage. You’re snapping at everyone who cares about you.” He dropped his hand, gaze steady. “Did Serapha’s suggestion scare you that much?”

I blinked. “What?”

“The rite of clarity.” He watched my reaction closely. “You’ve always been sensitive to temple work. If you don’t want rituals, there are gentler options.”

He moved to a nearby cabinet, opened it, and took out a small clay jar, holding it out to me.

“Here,” he said. “Simple relaxation blend. For sleep. You’re wound so tight I can hear your teeth grinding from across the hall.”

I didn’t take it.

“What’s in it?” I asked.

He smiled faintly. “You’re really going to quiz your own healer on ingredients now?”

“Yes,” I said. “I am.”

He rattled off a list—common calming roots, a touch of something for nightmares, dilution ratios. All technically correct. All things that should help.

None of that erased the image burned into my mind of his hand on my father’s shoulder, of bitter herbs on my tongue as the fire roared.

My fingers brushed the jar, then closed around it.

“Thank you,” I said, forcing the words out. “I’ll… think about it.”

His shoulders eased a fraction. “That’s all I ask. Think. Don’t tear everything down in one night because you’re scared.”

He reached out, thumb brushing my jaw, tilting my face up.

“I love you, Lyris,” he murmured. “I want you safe. Even from yourself.”

The worst part was that my traitorous heart still flinched at the word love. Still tried to lean into the touch it remembered.

My wolf sank her teeth into that impulse.

“Then you won’t mind if I read every line of that contract,” I said softly. “And every label you put in my house.”

Something in his eyes clouded. His thumb paused.

“Of course,” he said.

But the healer’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore.