Chapter 70
ARIA
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Kael stood there for a moment longer, clearly struggling with how to respond. But there was no good response. Anything he said would either make him look inappropriate or make me look insecure.
So he turned and walked away, his shoulders tight with tension, his emotions churning through our bond in a complicated mess of hurt and frustration and confusion.
I wanted to go to him, to comfort him, to explain what I suspected about Ivory’s motivations. But I was rooted in place by all those watching eyes, by the weight of being Luna, by the knowledge that how I handled this moment would be discussed and analyzed by the entire pack.
So I did nothing. Just stood there organizing supplies I’d already organized, pretending I hadn’t witnessed the entire painful exchange.
“Luna Aria?” Eliza’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Could you help me change the dressing on Station Two? I need an extra set of hands and my assistants are all busy with other patients.”
I moved to help, grateful for the distraction, for something useful to do that didn’t involve navigating the complex emotional dynamics swirling through the clinic.
As I worked alongside Eliza, carefully helping her unwrap bloodied bandages and clean wounds that were already showing signs of healthy healing, I kept glancing toward Ivory.
She’d settled into a chair near her patients, still making notes, still fielding questions from pack members who kept approaching with offerings and gratitude. She looked exhausted-the near-death experience was clearly taking its toll-but she refused to rest. Refused to stop working, stop caring, stop being exactly what this pack needed from her.
And she never once looked toward where Kael had disappeared. Never acknowledged that she’d just hurt her oldest friend. Never showed any sign that she regretted the distance she was creating.
Maybe she didn’t regret it. Maybe this was what she needed-clean boundaries, professional distance, a way to protect her own heart from the pain of watching Kael with someone else.
Or maybe she was punishing him. Punishing both of us. For disrupting her life, for changing
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everything she’d known, for making her feel things she didn’t want to feel.
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I didn’t know. Couldn’t know, because Ivory would never tell me. Would never let me close enough to understand what was really going on behind those carefully constructed walls.
“The sutures look good,” Eliza said, finishing with the fresh bandage. “Ivory’s antidote really did jumpstart the healing process. These wounds that should have taken weeks to close are already knitting together.”
“She’s remarkable,” I said quietly, and I meant it despite the complicated feelings churning in my chest. “The pack is lucky to have her.”
“They know it,” Eliza said, glancing toward where Ivory was still surrounded by grateful pack members. “Ivory’s been caring for these wolves since she was barely old enough to understand herbalism. She’s earned every bit of the loyalty they show her.”
Unlike me, was the unspoken implication. I was Luna by circumstance and political necessity, not earned dedication.
“Luna Aria,” another voice called out, and I turned to find Marcus-the head of the guard- standing at the clinic entrance. “Alpha Kael requests your presence in his office. There’s been a development with the rogue situation.”
I nodded, carefully washing my hands and drying them before following Marcus out of the clinic. As we walked through the pack house corridors, I couldn’t help but compare the reception I received to what I’d witnessed with Ivory.
Pack members stepped aside for me with polite nods. They used my title correctly. They showed all the proper respect.
But no one smiled at me the way they smiled at Ivory. No one brought me food or drinks or tokens of affection. No one looked at me with that deep gratitude that came from years of earned trust.
I was Luna. They respected the position.
But Ivory-Ivory they loved. And there was a vast chasm between the two.
Marcus led me to Kael’s office, where I found my mate standing at the window overlooking the pack grounds, his posture tense.
“The rogue attack,” he said without turning around. “It wasn’t random. They were specifically targeting healers. Specifically targeting our herb gardens.”
“How do you know?” I asked, moving to stand beside him.
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