The room was quiet, filled only with the soft murmur of voices and the rustle of cloth. The two healers, Olga and Eunice, walked around the room, getting things and applying them to Sloane's body.
"It's not working," Olga murmured under her breath. She took out a pin and punched it right into Sloane's arm. "This is not working," she muttered.
"She's trembling so much and yet sweating this hard? This is bad," Eunice said, dipping a cloth into cold water and gently placing it onto Sloane's forehead.
Olga frowned, examining the burn marks and the faint scars from earlier injuries. "Her natural healing isn't kicking in. Her wolf is too weak to mend her body. It's like her very essence is failing her."
Eunice nodded, her eyes filled with worry. "We need something stronger—a remedy that can jumpstart her recovery. An Alpha's blood might do the trick."
At that moment, the door creaked open, and Alexander stepped into the room. His cold silver eyes swept over Sloane's pale, fragile form. He stood silently for a moment, watching the healers work. "What's going on?"
Olga straightened up, clearing her throat softly. "Her wolf is weak, she can't heal, and for some reason, her body is painfully hot, and yet she's trembling from cold. We need something stronger like a true Alpha's blood…" she paused for a second, glancing up at the Alpha, hoping he caught onto what she meant. "You've claimed her as your mate. We're hoping you can—"
Alexander rolled his shirt up, his arm stretched forward. "Do what you must."
Olga glanced at Eunice, surprise sweeping over her features. Without another word, Olga retrieved a small knife from a nearby drawer. Her hands trembled slightly as she pressed the knife against his palm, and his blood flowed into a clean cloth. Eunice then mixed the blood with a potent herbal concoction.
Alexander's eyes remained fixed on Sloane as he watched the healers apply the mixture to her wounds and the burns that marred her skin.
After a few minutes that felt like an eternity, the healers exchanged a glance. "Her pulse is steadying," Eunice observed, though her voice held uncertainty. "But she's still in a fragile state."
Alexander nodded curtly and then turned toward the door. "I must leave now," he said. "She'll continue to recover here. I expect you to keep a close watch."
Olga bowed her head. "Yes, Alpha."
Alexander paused at the doorway and looked back at Sloane, whose features were slack in unconsciousness. For a brief second, something softened in his eyes, but that flicker was gone as quickly as it had come. He stepped out, leaving the room.
A dull ache throbbed in Sloane's head, dragging her from her unconscious state. She stirred, her breath shallow as her senses struggled to catch up. The room around her was dim, shadows flickering against the walls from the soft glow of a lantern. Her vision swam, blurry at first, and for a moment, she wasn't sure where she was.
Then, as her eyes finally focused, she saw him.
Alexander.
He stood near the door, his tall frame leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His silver eyes were locked onto her, cold and unreadable. He didn't speak. He didn't move. He only watched.
Sloane's heart lurched in her chest, and she flinched hard, jumping up only for pain to crash into her like a dam. The second she saw him, it all came crashing down. The pack square. The video. The annulment. The exile. Ryland. Celeste. Betrayal.
A sharp sob tore from her throat. Tears burned down her cheeks, hot and fast. Her body shook as the memories crashed over her, each one worse than the last. She had lost everything.
Alexander stiffened at the sight of her crying. He didn't like the sight of her crying. He stepped forward, stopping right in front of her.
Sloane stopped crying the second she noticed him closer than before. Her breath hitching as he leaned down, his face just inches away from her.
"What are you—" she doesn't get to complete her words as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crisp handkerchief. Then, without a word, he held it out to her.
Sloane blinked, her tears still streaming down her face. She hesitated before taking it from him carefully, her fingers barely brushing his as she did. His skin was warm…too warm.
She sniffled, dabbing her cheeks, her voice hoarse. "So when are you going to reject me?"
Alexander's jaw ticked, and when she looked up at him, his jaw was clenched hard.
"Do you want me to?"
Her breath caught. He didn't say no. He didn't say yes. He just… asked.
Sloane blinked. She let out a broken laugh, but it tasted bitter in her mouth. "You will anyway."
Alexander's eyes darkened. His hands curled into fists. For a second…just one, it looked like he was about to say something else.
But he didn't.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked toward the door.
Sloane's chest ached. Why did it feel like she was being abandoned all over again?
"Alexander—"
He paused. Just for a second, but he didn't turn around.
"Sleep, Sloane," he murmured.
Then he was gone.