Chapter 138

I knew it was over the second I woke up.

It wasn't because I felt normal. God, no. I didn’t feel anything close to normal. But the air was still. No pulse behind my eyes, no unbearable heat clinging to my skin. Just the slow, sticky hum of exhaustion stretching from the base of my skull to the tips of my fingers.

Richard was already watching me when I rolled over. His arm was folded under his head, eyes steady on my face like he’d been memorizing it. I blinked and tried to return his gaze, but my body felt heavy and limp. I managed a smile. He didn’t say anything right away. Just reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

“It’s over,” I said quietly.

He nodded once. “You’re alive.”

“I wasn’t sure I would be.”

That made him laugh. It was low and hoarse, like it hurt a little, but it was real. The sound filled my chest and made something flutter in my stomach. Not heat. Not anymore. Something softer. Lighter. Like the weight of everything was starting to lift.

We stayed curled around each other for a long time. Neither of us seemed in a rush to move. The room smelled like sweat and fruit and sex. It felt sacred, almost. A pause between storms.

Eventually, he kissed my shoulder and murmured, “We should shower. Nathan’s expecting us.”

I groaned but forced myself to sit up. My legs shook beneath me, and my arms felt rubbery. Richard caught me before I fully slumped sideways and helped me stand like it was nothing.

The hallway outside the sealed wing was quiet. A few guards stood post, and each one gave a small bow as we passed. Not deep, but noticeable. Their eyes lingered on me. I wasn’t sure if it was respect or curiosity. Maybe both.

When we reached his room, Richard peeled away to take a call from Nathan. I dressed slowly, choosing the softest cotton shirt I could find. My whole body ached. When I emerged, he was already off the phone, waiting with two mugs of coffee in the lounge.

I sat down across from him and took a sip. It tasted different now. Everything did. I could pick out the exact bitterness of the roast, the sharp sweetness of the sugar. I could hear the faint whirr of the cooling unit humming behind the walls, and someone walking two floors above us.

“You’re staring,” I said without looking up.

“I’m assessing,” Richard replied. He reached out and gently touched my wrist. “Your pulse is steady. Color’s good. Pupils still a little wide, but nothing alarming.”

“Thanks, Dr. Alpha.”

He rolled his eyes. “Anything else you’ve noticed?”

“Everything is... sharper. I can smell people before they enter the room. I can hear footsteps and conversations I’m not supposed to be able to hear. My body feels like it’s still buzzing, like it hasn’t realized the heat is over yet.”

He looked surprised, but nodded. “Your heat likely triggered a complete sensory awakening. We see it sometimes in high-blood hybrids, especially if they’ve never shifted.”

“So this is permanent?”

“It may mellow over time. But yes. Most of what you’re sensing now will stay.”

That sent a ripple through me. It wasn’t fear. Not exactly. But I suddenly felt like I was in a different body than the one I knew. One that came with rules I didn’t understand yet.

I took another sip, then paused. Something bitter caught in my throat. I looked down and frowned. There was a crystal glass next to the fruit bowl, mostly empty, but I could smell the residue clinging to the rim.

“Why is there wolfsbane in this glass?”

Richard’s head lifted.

I picked it up and held it closer to my nose. “It’s faint, but it’s there. That’s wolfsbane. Fresh.”

He didn’t answer right away.

“Did someone use this during the rut?”

His expression didn’t change, but I saw the shift in his shoulders. “The nursery wing was attacked during one of the peak days. Airborne dispersal. It didn’t reach us.”

I stared at him. “But it was in the house?”

“Yes. Nathan contained it quickly.”

My grip on the glass tightened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You already knew,” he said calmly. “Or you did for a moment. I told you at the time, you smelled it, but you were too far into the cycle to hold on to it. You were barely coherent.”

I blinked. The memory surfaced slowly. A muffled conversation. Someone saying “contaminant.” My head pounding. The world spinning. I’d forgotten it until now.

“You didn’t think I’d want to know once I was lucid?”

“I was going to tell you today,” he said. “When you were grounded again. When your body wasn’t still recovering.”

I sat down, still holding the glass. “This can’t happen again. Not just for me. For anyone. We need to start talking about what’s actually happening during these biological cycles. The Pack deserves more than silence and rumors.”

Richard didn’t argue. He walked over and crouched in front of me. “Then let’s talk about it. Together.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep. My skin still felt too alive. Every muscle hummed. I paced around the hall. I kept replaying images in my mind. His hands on my hips. The way he groaned my name. The way his eyes softened even when everything else in him had gone sharp.

I slid back into our room sometime past midnight.

He was half-asleep, one arm slung over his face. But when I crawled under the covers, he shifted.

“Amelia?” His voice was rough.

“I can’t sleep,” I whispered. I pressed my body against his. “I just want to feel you. Please.”

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. Something safe. Like we both knew this wasn’t about the bond. This was about need. About comfort.

It was slow. We moved like we were remembering each other. I didn’t want fast. I didn’t want wild. Not like in my heat. I wanted the way his breath caught when I kissed the hollow of his throat. The way he held me after, like I might slip through the sheets if he let go.

When I woke again, he was gone. A note on the pillow told me he was with Nathan and that he’d left food in the fridge. There was a little heart drawn in the corner, which I pretended not to stare at for ten full minutes.

I padded barefoot into his office and sat at the long table. Darius’s map was still out, his notes scattered. I started sorting through them, moving slowly at first, then more urgently. Something didn’t add up in the eastern quadrant. A pattern that seemed interrupted. There was a trade route, an old one, that hadn’t been flagged.

By the time Richard came back, I had the section redrawn.

“He left a gap,” I said as he walked in. “East of the river crossing. It’s the only corridor that hasn’t been reinforced.”

Richard took the map from me and studied it. “Good work. We’ll reroute the scouts.”

Not long after, a courier arrived. He looked winded, like he’d run the entire way. Richard opened the sealed envelope and scanned the letter inside.

“He’s moving east,” he said. “Just like you predicted.”

I nodded, but my mind was already somewhere else. A pulse in my palms. A flicker beneath my ribs.

That night, I dreamed of light. Crimson and thick, moving beneath my skin like a tide. It didn’t glow. It throbbed. Each pulse echoed with a beat I didn’t recognize. When I reached for it, it snarled. With teeth and with memory.