“Don’t you dare pass out on me, healer!” Dronti’s voice reached Breena through the dark haze, but it sounded strangely distant, like a voice echoing through a long tunnel.
She tried to say something, but no words came out.
Her knees buckled, and before she could collapse onto the damp mud, strong arms caught her mid-fall.
Dronti dropped to one knee, pulling Breena firmly against his chest.
Blood kept soaking into the pink fabric covering her ribs, staining his arms.
His jaw set into a hard line.
The bullet had grazed her ribs rather than embedding deeply, but the flow of blood looked terrible—and the heat rising from her skin was alarming.
“Franco!” Dronti called out over the roar of the waterfall.
A second later, branches snapped at the edge of the clearing.
Franco burst through the brush, drenched in mud from head to toe, his expensive suit completely ruined.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Breena unconscious in the King’s arms.
“Your Majesty—” Franco started.
“Get the girl,” Dronti cut him off, not bothering to look up.
Franco glanced past him toward the top of the waterfall, where the young girl was still tied up, sobbing uncontrollably.
“But Miss Breena—” ” I’ve got her,” Dronti replied, his voice leaving no room for argument.
“On it,” Franco said, turning immediately to hurry up the slippery rocks toward the girl.
Dronti looked down at the pale face resting against his chest.
Her dark lashes rested against her skin, her breathing short and uneven.
He reached out and brushed a few damp strands of hair off her forehead.
“Stubborn, reckless woman,” he muttered under his breath.
There wasn’t any warmth in his tone—just pure irritation.
Yet his grip around her waist tightened, holding her close.
He stood up, lifting her effortlessly, and moved away from the ledge.
A few feet away, the dead rogue wolf lay stretched out in the dirt.
Dronti didn’t pay it any attention.
Instead, his eyes landed on the shooter lying near the bushes.
The hunter’s rifle had fallen a few feet from his hand.
Dronti walked over, crouched down while keeping Breena balanced on his knee, and picked up the weapon with one hand.
It looked like a standard high-caliber hunting rifle.
But when Dronti popped open the chamber and pulled out an unspent round, his eyebrows pulled together.
He looked closely at the bullet.
A faint, silvery coating covered the tip.
Silver alloy.
It wasn’t pure silver—not enough to drop a high-grade Lycan on the spot.
But it was designed to weaken and poison a werewolf’s body immediately.
Dronti looked down at Breena.
She wasn’t a Lycan; she was just a shiftless wolf with a delicate body.
To someone like her, even a minor graze from silver-laced ammo should have put her into shock within minutes.
He crushed the casing in his grip.
This wasn’t some local hunter trying to protect himself against something.
Someone had deliberately loaded anti-wolf ammo into a rifle and waited in these woods.
His eyes swept slowly across the thick tree line.
The forest was dead quiet—no birds, no wind, just the steady roar of the water behind them.
“Franco.” Franco came back down the path, guiding the trembling teenage girl by the arm.
“Did she say anything?” Dronti asked as he stood up.
“Not much.
She’s completely freaked out,” Franco said, wiping a smear of mud off his face.
Dronti stepped toward the girl.
Her wrists were red and raw from the ropes, and she was shaking so hard her teeth were clicking together.
The moment Dronti stepped closer, she flinched and hid behind Franco’s arm.
“Don’t…
don’t hurt me!” she cried out.
“Who tied you to that tree?” Dronti asked directly.
The girl stared at him, her eyes wide, but didn’t answer.
“Answer him,” Franco said firm.
She swallowed hard, tears running through the ground on her cheeks.
“I…
I don’t know!
I swear I don’t know!” “Who brought you into the woods?” Dronti pressed.
“I don’t know!” she wept, grabbing Franco’s sleeve.
“They put a bag over my head and dragged me out here at night.
I didn’t even know where I was until the sun came up!” “When was this?” “This morning!
Right before sunrise!” “Why you?” Dronti’s eyes locked onto hers.
“What did they tell you before they left you up there?” The girl hesitated, wiping her nose as she looked from Dronti to Breena bleeding in his arms.
“They…
they said someone would come for me.” Franco frowned.
“Who?” The girl whispered.
“They said…
the herbalist girl.
The one who stays near the forest.
They said she was too soft to just walk past someone screaming for help.” A heavy silence fell over the glade.
Dronti’s jaw tightened.
The pieces fit together easily now.
Breena had spent the last three years in these woods gathering herbs, helping locals and treating sick villagers.
Anyone tracking her would know exactly how her mind worked.
The girl wasn’t just left here by accident.
She was bait.
And Breena had walked right into the trap.
“Franco,” Dronti said, his voice quiet and cold.
“Yeah?” “Bring the kid with us and ask her more questions once she calms down.” He turned toward the trail out of the forest, holding Breena tighter.
“I’m taking her back myself.” By the time the sedan pulled through the villa, Breena’s pulse was faint.
Her head rested limply against Dronti’s shoulder, her face pale, and blood had soaked through her shirt onto his clothes.
Dronti didn’t wait for anyone to get the door.
He shoved the door open, stepped out of the vehicle, and carried her straight past the surprised staff into the villa’s medical wing.
He laid her flat on the examination table and hit the intercom button on the wall.
“Rulph!
Get in here now!” Dr.
Rulph rushed in a few seconds later, holding his medical kit.
Seeing the King covered in blood, he gasped, “Your Majesty!
What happened—are you hit—” “It’s not mine,” Dronti cut him off, grabbing Rulph’s arm and pulling him toward the table.
“Clean the bullet wound and handle the silver infection right now.
If she dies on this table, Rulph, you’re going into the pit.” “Right away!” Rulph said quickly, unzipping his kit and pulling out his tools.
Dronti stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the doctor cut away the ruined crop top to reach the angry, dark edge where the bullet had grazed her flesh.
Once he saw Rulph getting to work, Dronti turned and headed up to the study.
An hour later, a knock came at the door.
Dr.
Rulph stepped inside, wiping his forehead with a hand towel.
He walked over and sat down in one of the chairs across from the desk.
“She’s stabilized,” Rulph began, leaning back.
“Wound is disinfected, stitched up, and bandaged.” Dronti didn’t look up from his desk.
“Good.” Rulph adjusted his glasses.
“Look, if you don’t mind me asking…
why are we keeping this girl around?
She isn’t qualified to handle Dodoi.
One chance and she’s going to get the pet killed.” He tapped his fingers on his knee.
“Why keep her in the villa?” Dronti closed the file he was holding with a quiet thud.
He looked up, his eyes sharp.
“Keep your enemies close, Rulph,” Dronti said calmly.
“She thinks I have no idea about what she’s up to.
That makes her careless.
The longer she stays here thinking she’s playing me, the sooner she’s going to slip up and show her hands.” Rulph nodded slowly.
“Fair enough.” He paused, his expression turning serious.
“Though…
we still have to deal with the other issue.” Dronti looked up.
“The poison?” “Yeah,” Rulph confirmed.
“The jaguar poison is still in her system.
Her own herbal mix is keeping the symptoms down for now, but it’s only delaying things.
Eventually, it’s going to catch up to her.” “She’s smart enough to keep herself breathing for now,” Dronti said coldly.
“Did you give her the shot for the bullet?” “I did,” Rulph answered, frowning slightly.
“I gave her the aconite-silver antitoxin.
But honestly, something about this doesn’t add up.” Dronti leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
“What do you mean?” “She’s way too resilient,” Rulph muttered, shaking his head.
“A weak, shiftless wolf without a functional beast form should’ve suffered severe organ failure from silver contact within five minutes.
But she lasted almost an hour with a silver graze burning through her flesh before getting treatment.” Dronti’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing.
“Which means,” Dronti said, his voice dropping low, “our little healer isn’t just an ordinary wolf.”