The Alpha's Forced Cure

*BONUS CHAPTER*

THERON'S POV

The air in this pack tasted of pine and weakness. It was an irritating combination. Every smile, every bow, every fake display of loyalty was like a stone grinding against my nerves. They looked at me and saw a king. I looked at them and saw a jury, their faces covered with a judgment I could no longer afford to care about.

This entire tour was a charade, a desperate act to project a strength I do not possess anymore. My body was a traitor, and the curse a slow poison seeping into my bones. With the passing of each day, the pain was a little deeper, and the tremor in my hand a little harder to hide. My wolf, who used to be a fire inside me, was now just a dying spark. I was a king in name only, and I was running out of time.

The prophecy was a mad whisper, a fool's hope that I was clinging to with all of my remaining strength. Find her, the seer had said. Find the one forged in rejection's fire. And so I played my part, moving from pack to pack, smiling through the agony, searching every face for a sign, for the miracle my ancestors had promised.

We were walking the perimeter of the village, my guards a silent shield around me, when the wave hit.

It was a cold dread in my gut that spread like ice through my veins. My vision blurred, the edges turning gray, while the ground seemed to be tilting below my feet. I stumbled, catching myself against a rough stone wall before my legs could give out completely. A groan erupted from my throat, a sound of weakness that I despised.

“Hold the perimeter!” One of my guards' voice was a sharp command behind me. “No one enters.”

He knew the protocol. He knew the importance of the illusion. The king could not be seen as weak.

I pressed my forehead against the cool, damp stone, trying to breathe through the pain. My hand clenched, a tremor shaking my entire arm. I fought it, forcing the muscles into submission. Control, control, control. It was my mantra, the only prayer I had left.

Then I heard a voice, clear and sharp, cutting through the haze of my agony. “I am the pack doctor. And your King is unwell. Step aside.”

I looked up, my vision clearing enough to see a woman push past my guard's arm. An Omega, small and fierce. She moved with a purpose that screamed arrogance, her gaze sweeping over me not with fear, but with an unsettling, analytical intensity.

She stopped before me, and I braced myself, summoning the last of my energy to project an aura of command, a glare that had sent hardened Alphas to their knees.

She didn’t even flinch.

“Your Majesty,” she said, and the title was an insult, stripped of all its respect. "You are exhibiting signs of severe distress. Your skin has a grayish color, you are excessively sweating, and your motor control is compromised. You need to sit down, now."

I stared at her, momentarily stunned into silence. She wasn’t speaking to a king. She was speaking to a specimen, a collection of symptoms she was cataloging with cold precision. The audacity of it was breathtaking. My fury began to rise, a familiar, hot wave that usually burned away all other sensations. But today, it was a weak flame against the rage of the curse.

"Your pulse is erratic," she stated. "You might have something wrong with your heart. I need to confirm it."

And then she moved. Fast. Before I could command her to stop, before my guards could intervene, she closed the distance and her hand was on my wrist.

The world did not end. It began.

For months, my whole life had been pain. It was the background noise to every single breath. The moment her skin touched mine, all of it stopped.

The silence was the most profound thing I had ever experienced.

The ice in my veins melted. The shaking in my hand stopped. For the first time in forever, there was no pain. There was just a clean, quiet peace.

It was followed by a tidal wave of sensation. A scent flooded my senses—pine and snow and cold, clean air. It was the scent of life, of strength, of home. It was a scent my soul had been starving for without ever knowing it. It was the scent of my own fading wolf, returned to me in a single, overwhelming rush.

I gasped, a ragged, desperate sound. The force of it, the sheer, unadulterated relief, nearly buckled my knees. This feeling… this was life. This was the magic the prophecy had promised.

I looked at her, really looked at her, and everything changed. She wasn't just some rude doctor. She was the miracle. The prophecy was real. She was here.

She snatched her hand back as if she’d been burned, her frosty eyes wide with a look of pure, instinctual horror. She saw a disease. A parasite.

I saw the cure.

Hope, an emotion I had buried long ago, exploded in my chest. It was a violent, selfish feeling. It had nothing to do with love or destiny. It was the raw, primal need of a dying animal that has just found the only thing that can save it.

She stared at me, her face masked with terror, and I knew she understood. She saw the truth in my eyes.

I was the king. She was the Omega healer. And I would tear down the world to possess her.