Chapter 17: Wounds That Canno…
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Chapter 17: Wounds That Cannot Heal
Chapter 17: Wounds That Cannot Heal
(Celeste’s POV)
The tension in the air was suffocating, thick as the oppressive silence that followed Alpha
James’s cutting remark.
“You’re free to leave, Celeste. You have no right to pack protection anymore.”
The finality in his voice struck like a hammer. My chest tightened, but I kept my head high.
I couldn’t leave.
Not when Grandma Eleanor was still here, confined to the pack house, her health dwindling by
the day. Not when the outside world loomed as a hostile emptiness, with no allies, no safety.
No home.
I wasn’t weak enough to beg, but neither was I foolish enough to test my father’s patience
further. When I lifted my spoon and took the smallest bite of moon–blessed meat, Lucas’s
sneer cut through the silence.
“Ah, I see. When it comes down to it, your pride bends easily enough.” His tone was sharp and
mocking. “Guess even you can’t bear to lose what little piece of this family you still cling to.”
I bit down the bitterness rising in my throat. My wolf whimpered faintly, its energy too fragile to lash out. I chewed slowly, the rich flavor of the meat twisting unnaturally on my tongue.
“I wasn’t refusing it to make a point,” I said calmly, though my voice carried the weight of
suppressed exhaustion. “After years in prison, my stomach can’t tolerate certain meats. That’s
all.”
But even as I spoke, a terrible cramping rippled through me, sharp and immediate. I winced,
my hand gripping the edge of the table as heat spread across my skin.
It started subtly–a faint prickling along my arms. Then red welts began to crawl across my
hands, visible evidence of my body rejecting the food like poison.
The room fell deathly silent.
The air felt charged, the weight of their gazes pressing down on me. Victoria’s eyes widened in
alarm, her wolf whining softly somewhere beneath her poised exterior.
Lucas froze, his sneering expression flickering to something unreadable–shock, maybe even
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Chapter 17: Wounds That Canno…
guilt.
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“This–this is what happens when wolves are kept starved for years,” I bit out through clenched teeth, my voice shaky but controlled. “My wolf…” I paused, suppressing the wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm me. “It’s weakened. This… reaction is normal for wolves
after prolonged starvation or restricted diets in captivity.”
Victoria stepped forward, her expression lined with genuine concern. But before she could say anything, Scarlett’s delicate coughing suddenly broke through the quiet.
“Mother…” Scarlett’s voice was fragile, trembling as though the mere act of speaking drained her strength.
She held her hand delicately to her chest, letting out another soft wheeze.
Instantly, Victoria turned toward Scarlett, her maternal instincts driving her movements.
“Scarlett! What’s wrong?” Victoria knelt beside her, fussing over her the way only a doting
mother could.
Her hands fluttered across Scarlett’s arms as if checking for signs of fever.
Alpha James’s presence loomed, his wolf bristling at the disorder but ultimately drawn to
Scarlett.
Concern for his true daughter marked his expression as he barked an order.
“Get her to her room. Someone summon the healer!”
The servants moved quickly but quietly, carrying Scarlett away on her mother’s arm. Victoria threw one last glance toward me, her lips pressed hard in worry.
In the shuffle, I was forgotten. Just as I always was.
No apology from Lucas. No words of reassurance. Not even leftover anger from Alpha James.
Scarlett’s weak, theatrical display wiped away what little attention remained for me.
They went after her, leaving me at the table with my burning skin and cramping stomach.
Back in my quarters, I forced myself to move steadily, ignoring the dizziness clouding my vision. Nina greeted me with wide eyes, seen immediately through my strained composure.
“What happened, My Lady?” she asked, her voice sharp and worried.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I replied softly, though my hands shook as I began removing my
outer layer of clothing.
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Chapter 17: Wounds That Canno…
The angry red welts on my arms throbbed violently now, a cruel accompaniment to the pain ravaging my insides.
Without another word, I stepped into the bathroom and filled the tub with ice water.
When the water was ready, I submerged my arms, the cold biting into my skin like shards of glass. The relief was immediate, though temporary.
Nina hovered near the doorway, her wolf pacing beneath her fearful gaze. “Why are you doing
this? The ice–it’ll make it worse!”
“It’s the only thing that helps,” I said between shallow breaths. “When they tried feeding us raw
meat in Moon Shadow Prison, my wolf couldn’t handle it, and this…” I gestured faintly to the welts. “This happened.”
Nina’s eyes filled with tears, but she swallowed hard, nodding silently as she hurried to fetch
dry towels and warm blankets.
By the time I emerged from the freezing water, the welts had eased slightly, though my body
felt heavier than before.
Nina helped me dry off and guided me to sit by the fire,, wrapping me in warmth before
pressing a cup of healing tea into my hands.
Her wolf whined softly, mirroring the quiet desperation in her eyes. “You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”
I sipped the tea slowly, allowing its soothing heat to run through me. But her words lingered,
striking a wound that never seemed to close.
“I’m used to it, Nina,” I replied quietly. “Four years of prison prepared me for far worse.”
But even as I said it, the memory of Lucas’s sneering voice at dinner crept back to the forefront of my thoughts.
His biting words, his careless accusations–they cut far deeper than any physical pain ever
could.
I had expected this treatment long before my release. I had braced myself for it, prepared myself to face their rejection with indifference.
But it still hurt.
(Alexander’s POV)
I found Lucas slumped over a small corner table at the Pack’s local tavern, a half–empty bottle
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Chapter 17: Wounds That Canno…
of wolf wine clutched tightly in his hand.
His golden eyes were glazed with intoxication, but there was nothing hazy about the bitterness etched into his expression.
His wolf lingered somewhere beneath the surface, restless and agitated.
I pulled out a chair without asking, the creak of the worn wood catching his attention. He turned his head sluggishly, blinking until I came into focus.
“Alexander,” he said, his voice slurring faintly. He lifted his bottle in a mock toast, his lips
curling into a sour grin.
“Come to lecture me about pack loyalty? Or maybe to-” He hiccupped. “-ask where your precious Celeste disappeared to?”
I frowned, my wolf stirring uneasily. “What’s happened?” My tone came out sharper than I
intended.
He snorted, gesturing vaguely toward the bottle. “Same as always. Scarlett’s made of glass, Celeste’s made of ice, and I’m stuck in the middle. Fun, isn’t it?”
My hands tightened around the bottle I’d taken from the counter earlier. “Where is Celeste?” I
asked.
That drew a harsh laugh from him. He leaned back in his chair, waving the bottle with exaggerated frustration.
“Why?” He slurred. “Looking for the little princess? Or did Scarlett send her charming knight to…” His words drifted off into drunken nonsense, though the bitterness remained clear.
I exhaled slowly. There was no use arguing with him like this..
Pouring myself a drink, I studied Lucas carefully. His wolf’s energy flickered erratically, aggressive one moment and retreating the next.
He lurched forward suddenly, gripping my shoulder with far more strength than was
necessary.
His golden eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light as he grinned, his wolf’s presence twisting his drunken movements.
“You should mate them both,” he said, his voice low but heavy with inebriation.
I stiffened immediately, my wolf bristling in offense. But Lucas didn’t notice–or didn’t care.
“They’re both yours, aren’t they?” he continued, his tone teetering dangerously between
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Chapter 17: Wounds That Canno…
mockery and genuine emotion. “Scarlett’s so fragile, she’d probably thank you for it. And Celeste…” He snorted. “Well, she’s cold as moonstone. Bet you’d enjoy defrosting her.”
My jaw tightened as I pulled free from his grip, setting my drink down with deliberate care.
“Go home, Lucas,” I said firmly.
But he only laughed, his wolf growling softly beneath the sound. He moved to say something else, but I didn’t give him the chance.
Grabbing his arm, I jerked him to his feet with enough force to quiet whatever drunken nonsense lingered on his lips.
Tonight wasn’t the night to lose composure. But the tension he’d ignited in me simmered,
promising it wouldn’t stay dormant for long.
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