Landon’s gaze shifted slightly past her and stopped—landing on his father.
Janson stood rigidly at the bedside with his hands clasped behind his back as if he needed something to do with them.
Something unreadable passed between them. For a moment, neither spoke. Then, in a controlled but tight voice, Janson said, "You collapsed."
Landon blinked. "I noticed that."
"And you had a fever," Janson continued. That got a reaction from his son.
He shifted slightly. Pain lingered—dull and distant, but it was still manageable. "What happened?" he asked.
Raine stepped closer. "It is when someone poisons you."
Landon’s gaze snapped back to her. Silence fell over the room. Janson didn’t interrupt, but Raine felt his attention sharpen. She realized in that moment that this conversation mattered.
Landon tried to sit up, but it was a terrible idea. The pain flared, even though it wasn’t overwhelming; it was enough to remind him that he wasn’t fine.
Landon swallowed; his throat felt dry. "Explain what happened."
Raine glanced briefly at Janson. The Alpha gave a single nod, showing his permission. So, she did.
Raine told him everything—the fever, the symptoms, the timing, and the silver. "You’ve been exposed to silver repeatedly," Raine said. "Small amounts. Over time. Enough to weaken you without killing you immediately. It poisoned your system, causing the fever, even though fever is something that is not normal for shifters." She then added. "And another slow acting poison that I am still trying to figure out."
She didn’t soften it. She didn’t dramatize it. She spoke like a healer. Facts. And when she finished, the room was quiet.
"There’s a high chance," she said carefully, "someone has been poisoning you." Raine hesitated for a moment, then she asked. "Do you know someone who wants you dead?"
Landon didn’t react immediately. His gaze drifted toward the window. "Many people want me dead."
Raine stared at him, then sighed. "Seeing your attitude," she said, "I can understand them."
He glared at her. There it was—the spark of life. "You’re bold for someone disposable. Careful with what you say, healer," he said in a low voice.
"Unfortunately, you’re not intimidating for someone who can’t sit up," she replied mockingly.
Landon’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but he said nothing. Silence stretched. Then—"You figure it out," he suddenly said.
Raine blinked, confused. "What?"
"If someone is poisoning me," he continued, "find out who."
She stared at him as if he had personally offended her. "I was bought to heal you," she said slowly, "not to investigate your pack’s conspiracies."
His expression hardened. "If you don’t find the source, the healing will only be temporary."
"That sounds like an Alpha’s problem," Raine retorted, glancing at Janson.
"It will be your problem if I die." Landon snapped.
She leaned forward. "No," she said. "It becomes my execution. Different category."
Landon waved toward the door. "Good if you know that, now leave."
Raine stood immediately and she closed the door behind her, definitely not in a quiet manner.
However, before she could rush back to her room, the door was open again, and Alpha Janson came out. "Wait," he said. "Come to my office."
***
Alpha Janson’s office was on the other side of the pack house.
It was a large room facing the front gate. In the center of the room was a long table surrounded by eight chairs.
On one side of the room was a large work desk with a large family crest hanging on the back, and on the other was a fireplace with a fire burning. The room was warm, with long windows that revealed the dark sky outside.
Several paintings of the family’s ancestors hung on the wall. Raine immediately noticed a painting of Landon before he was cursed. In there, he looked very young and handsome, with a stern expression much like his father’s, who stood before Raine.
"How is his condition now?" Janson asked.
"Alive. Not dying. Speaking. Insufferable," Raine said.
"Good." He stared at her for a moment. "What do you suggest to find out the source of the poison?"
"We need to be more careful and monitor his food. That’s the first step."
Janson’s gaze sharpened instantly. "You believe the poisoning continues."
"I believe it never stopped," she responded.
Janson thought about her response for quite a long moment and finally said, "You will monitor everything he consumes. What do you need?"
Raine blinked. Permission came faster this time. "I need access to the kitchen," she said. "And the authority to inspect every meal prepared for him."
Janson studied her. "That will cause attention."
"So will the death of your son," she replied.
Then Janson nodded once. "You have my permission."
Raine sighed, and Janson noticed. "You don’t seem pleased."
"I’m a healer," she said. "You just gave me a second job. It looks like I’ve been promoted to healer and food inspector."
A faint shift touched his expression. "Pack life rarely gives single responsibilities. Welcome to pack life."
Raine muttered under her breath, "I should have stayed in the black market."
Janson pretended not to hear.
***
The kitchen was louder than she expected. There were many voices—metal, steam, frying oil, and movements. Raine stepped inside and immediately felt the shift—people noticing, watching, and judging. A stranger. A healer. An outsider. She tried to ignore it.
However, before she could say anything, someone bumped into Raine.
Water splashed down her sleeve. Raine froze. But the other girl froze harder. "I—I—I’m s-s-sorry," the girl stammered immediately, her eyes wide with panic. "I d-didn’t s-see—I—"
Raine looked down at her soaked sleeve, then looked up at the girl, a young omega with beautiful brown eyes. She looked as if she expected to be yelled at.
Raine sighed.
"Perfect," she muttered. "Final touch to end my day."