Chapter 5: Reject The Remedies (Alexander’s POV) Lucas stormed toward me the moment we were both in the mansion’s courtyard. His presence was like a tempest, rolling in with barely-restrained fury. His emerald eyes burned with golden flecks, and the weight of his wolf – Bloodfang’s energy beat against me, hot and sharp. I had been expecting it. “Why were you really at the gates?” he growled, his voice low, seething with barely-contained menace. The snarl that followed wasn’t just human—it was pure wolf, vibrating in the air between us. I didn’t flinch, my stance deliberately relaxed, hands loosely placed at my sides. Steelclaw hummed quietly within me, his energy icy, steadfast. Lucas was tense, nearly shaking. He wanted a fight. I wouldn’t grant him that satisfaction. “What exactly are you accusing me of?” I asked, my tone measured, almost casual, as though the truth wasn’t blazing between us. “Don’t play dumb with me,” he snapped, taking another menacing step forward. His energy spiked again, dominating, pressing down. Bloodfang’s presence was barely held back, bared teeth circling beneath his demanding gaze. I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I’m not the one playing, Lucas,” I replied evenly, my voice calm in stark contrast to his rising anger. “You’re Scarlett’s intended mate now. Don’t forget your place!” His words erupted like a roar, echoing through the quiet yard. There it was. The spark of jealousy, of possessiveness that made Lucas both predictable and dangerous. His attachment to Scarlett morphed so easily into aggression, and yet—was it truly Scarlett he was protective of now? My lips quirked, a faint, brooding smirk spreading before I could stop it. “Interesting concern,” I said flatly, folding my arms as I studied him. “You’re very quick to defend the sister you humiliated just moments ago.” His face twisted, his jaw clenching so hard I could almost hear the grinding of his teeth. “Don’t twist this into something it’s not!” he barked, heat flaring in his tone. But I wasn’t finished. “You’re very concerned about appearances,” I continued, letting the deliberateness of my words land. “But for someone so concerned, did you notice something odd?” A glint flickered in my gaze as I added, “Your sister, Celeste, seemed remarkably indifferent to any… kindness.” Lucas’s eyes narrowed sharply, his wolf bristling beneath the surface. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, his voice sharper, angrier. “The moon-blessed pastries. The warming stones,” I said simply, shrugging as if the details bored me. “She hardly touched them. Their scent offended her, apparently.” That struck a nerve. I saw it in the twitch of his jaw, the way his wolf’s golden hues flared brighter and darkened in the span of a heartbeat. “You—” His voice dropped, more growl than speech. I didn’t let him finish. “Your healing stones, blessed by the Alpha King’s shamans,” I cut in smoothly, watching his reaction carefully. “Are you going to give her those? For the silver burns on her arms?” His wolf surged closer to the surface, and Lucas straightened, fists curling at his sides. “She needs them,” he hissed finally, his words laced with frustration as if speaking them was a struggle. I tilted my head, my own energy calm, calculating. He was trying to mask his concern, but it seeped out anyway. “It’s too bad I don’t have any,” I said, my tone detached. His eyes locked onto me, suspicious, furious. “What do you mean by that?” Slowly, deliberately, I reached into my coat and pulled out a small leather pouch. “No healing stones,” I explained as I opened it. The dried herbs carried a faint, bitter scent, rising into the cold air. “But this is wolfsbane antidote. It won’t heal her scars, of course, but…” I let the pause linger, deliberate, before finishing, “It will help with the venom spreading through her system.” For a beat, he stayed silent, his attention darting to the pouch, then back to me. I could see the war happening behind his emerald gaze—pride battling genuine concern, anger mixing with uncertainty. A long, measured pause hung between us. Finally, Lucas stepped closer, his tone filled with forced restraint. “Leave it,” he spat, the words clipped and short. I adjusted my grip on the pouch, letting silence stretch just long enough for it to be uncomfortable. Then, with a small flick of my wrist, I tossed it onto a nearby stone bench. “Of course,” I replied, my voice carrying the faintest edge of amusement. The tension between us crackled like a storm waiting to break. His wolf snapped at the edges, visible only to those who could sense the dominance radiating from him. But Steelclaw didn’t waver. “Don’t make this a habit, Steele,” Lucas snarled at my back as I turned to leave. I paused, glancing back over my shoulder. My smile was razor-thin, ice-cold. “I’m not the one who needs to learn discipline,” I said quietly, letting the words cut deeply before walking away. Once clear of Lucas’s sight, I retrieved a comm stone from my pocket. Pressing the smooth lapis between my fingers, I activated it. “Kane,” I said firmly when the link opened. “Alpha?” came the sharp, clear response on the other end. “Gather the warriors’ herbs. The ancient remedies,” I instructed briskly. “Celeste’s burns require old methods.” “Understood,” Kane replied. No hesitation. The comm stone dimmed in my hand as I ended the link. Closing my fist around it, I inhaled deeply against the rising frustration that threatened to color my thoughts. Steelclaw growled faintly within me, pacing silently in my mind. Neither of us could shake the images burned into memory—images of her scars, her cold, stubborn refusal to lean on the mercy of anyone. It didn’t matter how many times the fragments of blame shifted between Lucas, Scarlett, or even Celeste herself. None of them mitigated the hollow ache lingering between my ribs. (Celeste’s POV) Nina’s hands moved with care, her fingers delicate as they smoothed the cool salve across the raw burns on my arms. But even her gentleness couldn’t lessen the sting where the salve met torn skin. I clenched my jaw, refusing to wince. Pain was familiar, constant. Nina’s sharp gray eyes filled with unshed tears as they flitted over my arms, her lips trembling faintly. She kept working, though her voice cracked when she finally whispered, “These burns should’ve killed you, My Lady.” Her tears didn’t move me. I kept my gaze steady, fixed on the dying winter roses outside my window. “Stop crying,” I said flatly, the words sharp and unmoved. Nina faltered briefly, but she resumed her work, her jaw tightening to keep more emotion from spilling out. The salve went on in light layers, its cooling touch blending with the faint tremor in my arms. Golden light from the weak dawn filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows over the small table nearby. Eventually, there was a knock at the door, breaking whatever fragile quiet had settled between us. Nina’s head jerked toward the sound, and then, quickly, she rose to her feet. The door creaked open, and two items were passed inside. Nina returned with them in hand—a bundle bearing Lucas’s scent and a small bottle containing the scent of dried herbs and wolfsbane. I inhaled sharply, bitterness curling under my ribs. “Set them on the table,” I instructed, not even bothering to glance their way. Nina followed my command, placing the items carefully down, her hands reverent but uncertain. She glanced between the bundled remedies and me. I stared at them for longer than I intended. My fingers flexed faintly at my sides, trembling beneath the memories of each silver burn that radiated pain up my arms—even now. A bitter laugh escaped me, cold and hollow. “Take them,” I said finally, my voice a sharp blade cutting through Nina’s hesitation. She froze, surprise flashing through her expression. “My Lady?” she asked hesitantly. She hesitated to reach forward. “You heard me,” I bit out, my tone colder, harsher. Nina’s mouth opened, perhaps to protest, but she closed it quickly, hiding her doubt. She shifted silently, waiting for some turn that wasn’t coming. My wolf stirred faintly inside, a weak, faltering growl rising but quickly silenced. I didn’t reach for the healing remedies. I didn’t want them. They weren’t gifts—they were excuses. They were disguises for guilt. Even if their contents could lessen the pain, I wouldn’t allow myself to be pawned off like something that could be repaired. Not by him. Not by Alexander. Not by Lucas. Nina remained still, uncertain. When I turned to face her, I told her with my eyes what I refused to speak aloud. She lowered her head. The remedies stayed untouched. My wolf refused to accept their mockery. I was not theirs to fix. Not anymore.