Chapter 2

Aria's POV

The next morning, I was summoned to the medical house.

The medical house was filled with herb scents—lavender, rosemary, and plants I couldn't name. Sunlight streamed through windows onto a simple wooden table, making everything look peaceful.

Except for the nauseating fact that Terry arranged this.

"Please sit. Let me examine your condition," Dr. Heather said gently.

I sat on the wooden stool, letting her examine my arms. When she rolled up my sleeves, I heard her sharp gasp.

"Dear god..." She gently touched the deep scars on my wrists. "When did this happen?"

"Long time ago," I answered calmly.

She continued examining, discovering two fingers on my left hand couldn't bend properly. When she pressed gently, I felt nothing.

"Nerve damage," she frowned. "This is from prolonged... abuse. Child, what did you endure?"

I didn't answer. Abuse? Too mild a word. What Ryker did to me couldn't be described by any word.

"And your back..." She had me turn around and lifted my shirt.

I felt her fingers trembling. There were brands—Ryker's marks—and countless scars from whips.

"Dear Moon Goddess..." Her voice choked. "The Alpha needs to know about this."

The door suddenly burst open. Terry strode in, tension across his face.

"How's the examination?" he asked, but when he saw my exposed back, he froze completely.

I felt his gaze burning into my skin. I quickly pulled my shirt down and turned to face him.

"Alpha." I nodded acknowledgment.

Terry's face went pale, fists clenched. "Her injuries... how serious?"

"Very serious," Dr. Heather's voice carried anger. "Alpha, what did she endure? These wounds..."

"I understand." Terry's voice was heavy. "Prepare the best ointments. Take whatever you need from my personal stores. And..." He paused, tone becoming stern. "Don't mention what you saw today to anyone."

"Of course, Alpha."

Terry looked at me, complex emotions in his eyes. "If you need..."

"I don't need anything, Alpha." I cut him off. "These wounds have healed."

When I moved to leave, Terry suddenly lunged forward to grab my arm. "Aria, wait—"

I instinctively recoiled violently, nearly hitting the wall. My body shook like a frightened animal.

We both froze.

Terry's hand hung in midair, hurt flashing across his face. I realized my reaction was too extreme, revealing too much.

"Sorry, Alpha." I looked down. "I'm just... not used to sudden contact."

For five years, every touch meant pain. My body had developed protective instincts.

Terry slowly lowered his hand, expression becoming more complex. Anger, frustration, and something else I didn't want to examine.

"I see." His voice was tight with obvious displeasure. "Then go rest."

That afternoon, while organizing my few pitiful clothes in my broken house, I heard knocking.

I opened the door, shocked to find Terry standing there with a cloth bundle.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Some supplements," he said somewhat uncomfortably. "And ointment Dr. Heather prepared. She said it's effective for your injuries."

I took the bundle, feeling its weight. Expensive medicinal herbs and several exquisite ointment jars inside.

Where were you five years ago? I thought coldly. Where were you when I was being tortured to death in the Crimson Pack?

"Thank you for Alpha's generosity," I said, voice carrying not a trace of gratitude.

Terry was stunned, clearly not expecting such coldness.

"Aria, I..." He began, then paused. "Your hand is badly injured. I want to ensure you get the best treatment."

"I said I don't need it." I began closing the door. "If there's nothing else..."

"Wait!" Terry blocked the door. "Can we... talk?"

I looked at his hand—the one that once caressed my cheek and promised eternal protection. Now it only disgusted me.

"Talk about what, Alpha?" My voice was flat as death. "What does a refugee have to discuss with you?"

Terry's expression changed. "You're not a refugee, you're..."

"What am I?" I stared into his eyes. "Your ex-fiancée? The burden you rejected five years ago? Or the tool you used to secure peace?"

Terry opened his mouth to argue but no sound came.

"I'm grateful you rescued me," I continued. "But please don't misunderstand. I have NO expectations of you, and I don't need your guilt."

With that, I shut the door, leaving Terry standing alone outside.

Late that night, I lay on the broken bed, staring at ceiling cracks. The herbal scent triggered memories flooding back like a tide.

Five years ago, Terry lay in the medical room, pale as death, silver poison ready to claim his life.

I sat beside his bed for three days and nights, wiping his sweat with damp towels, my eyes red and swollen from crying.

"Terry, you have to hold on," I gripped his cold hand. "I can't lose you."

But he was unconscious, unaware I was there, unaware of how many times I'd cried for him.

When I decided to go to Blood Moon Forest for the moonlight flower, he was still comatose.

"Wait for me," I kissed his forehead—the first and last time. "I'll save you."

But he'd never know. In his memory, Sera saved him.

I smiled bitterly and shook my head. That naive girl thought true love could move mountains.

Now I understood—there's no such thing as destiny, only foolish wishful thinking.