Raine swallowed with difficulty, then nodded. "Fair enough. Saves time."
A faint flicker of surprise crossed Alpha Janson’s stern expression before it hardened again. His brow furrowed. "You don’t seem afraid."
"Oh, I am," Raine replied lightly. "I am just good at hiding it."
Janson studied her for a long moment before finally saying, "You will be given a room." He nodded to the guards. "Take her to her room."
Then he shifted his attention back to Raine. "You will have access to my son, the library, the town, and any materials you need to cure him. Nothing beyond the pack lands."
Raine met his gaze. "And freedom?"
"No," he said curtly.
She had expected that.
***
That night, alone in her assigned room, Raine sat on the edge of the bed and exhaled slowly.
Six months.
Heal the Alpha’s son—or die.
She stared at her hands, faintly glowing with magic she had learned to restrain long ago.
"All right," she said to herself grimly. "Let’s see what I have been bought for."
***
The bedroom they were heading to was at the far end of the east wing, isolated from the rest of the pack house.
Raine noticed it immediately. She felt it the moment she stepped into the corridor. The corridor leading there was quieter, the air heavier. Thick curtains blocked the light, and the air had a faint smell of herbs. Her footsteps echoed too loudly against the stone floor, each one tightening the knot in her chest.
Alpha Janson stopped in front of a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron. "This is as far as I go," he said.
Raine looked at him. "You’re not coming in?"
"No." That single word carried finality.
Raine smiled wryly, and then she hesitated. For a moment, Raine studied the door, then Janson’s face. There was tension there—controlled, carefully buried.
"He doesn’t want witnesses," Janson added.
’Or you just don’t want to see what he has become,’ Raine thought. She nodded. "Understood."
Janson opened the door and stepped aside. "If he tells you to leave," he said quietly, "you leave."
"If he tells me to leave, I leave," Raine repeated. She met his eyes. "And if I leave without understanding his condition, I die." She added.
For a brief moment, something unreadable crossed Janson’s face. His jaw tightened. "Be careful."
Then the door closed behind her.
The room was dim, lit only by a low-burning fire in the fireplace. Heavy curtains blocked the windows, keeping out moonlight and air. The scent hit her next—iron, old herbs, and something faintly bitter.
Blood.
Raine’s fingers curled slightly at her sides.
"Don’t come any farther." The voice was rough, edged with warning.
Raine stopped.
Landon stood near the far wall, arms crossed, half-turned toward her. He was taller than she had expected; his build was lean but powerful. Tense.
When he faced her, Raine’s stomach tightened.
A dark metal mask molded to human features covered the lower half of his face. Smooth and cold-looking, it covered everything from his nose down. Only his eyes were visible. They looked odd, though: one blue and one black. They looked sharp and empty.
"So," he said. "You are the healer my father bought."
Raine straightened. "My name is Raine."
"I didn’t ask." He replied curtly.
Raine ignored it. "You must be Landon."
He scoffed.
She pressed her lips together, then exhaled slowly. "I was sent to assess your condition."
Landon let out a short, humorless laugh. "There’s nothing to assess." He turned away from her, facing the window despite the closed curtains. "Leave." The word landed hard.
But, Raine took a cautious step forward. "I just want to talk."
"Then talk while walking out."
"I can’t."
He looked back at her then, eyes narrowing. "You misunderstand. This is not a negotiation."
"But I can’t," Raine said once more.
His eyes sharpened.
"If I leave," she said, forcing calm into her voice, "your father will kill me."
That made him pause. But then... "Not my concern. You can die elsewhere."
Raine sighed. "You’re charming."
Something flickered in his gaze. Annoyance, perhaps. Or a total indifference. "Then you shouldn’t come here," he replied flatly.
Raine clenched her jaw. "I didn’t choose this."
"Neither did I."
The air between them tightened.
Raine took another cautious step forward. "I don’t need much. Just answers. When did this start?"
Landon moved faster than she expected. One moment, he was across the room—the next, he was right in front of her. His hand slammed into the wall beside her head. The wood cracked and Raine flinched.
"Don’t," he growled. "You don’t get to question me. You don’t belong here."
Her heart slammed against her ribs, but she held his gaze. "You are sick," she said, her voice shaking only slightly. "And whatever is wrong with you does not seem natural."
That was a mistake. His jaw clenched. "Say that again."
"I need to see you. I can’t heal what I have never seen."
His eyes darkened. "You think I want to be healed?" He snapped.
"That’s not what I—"
His other hand came down on the wall, trapping her completely. "I don’t care whether you live or not," Landon said. "Leave—Now. Before I kill you myself."
Raine swallowed. Every instinct screamed at her to run.
Instead, her gaze dropped to the mask. Something about it bothered her. Not the metal itself, but the way her healing power reacted around it. Uneasy. Like a wound wrapped too tightly.
"I need to see your face," she said quietly.
"No."
But before she could think better of it—before fear could stop her—Raine reached up and grabbed the edge of the mask. She yanked.
The metal mask clattered against the floor. The sound seemed too loud in the sudden silence.
Landon staggered back with a snarl, his hand flying up too late.
Raine sucked in a breath.