A healer’s betrayal cuts deeper than any blade.

I stand in the doorway of Sarah’s cabin, my wolf raging at the scene before me. Our pack healer—a wolf who has served us faithfully for over two centuries—stands protectively between me and my mate. Worse, she’s helping Lara hide from us, betraying everything our pack stands for.

But it’s the scent of illness that holds me back from immediate action. Chloe lies pale and trembling on the narrow bed, her heartbeat so erratic I can hear its struggle from here. The prophecy gift is burning through her, turning her blood to fire.

“Your mate’s sister needs help,” Sarah says calmly, as if she hasn’t just committed treason. “Are you going to let your need for dominance interfere with that?”

My first instinct is to snarl, to assert my authority as Alpha King. But centuries of experience have taught me to look deeper. Sarah isn’t acting like a traitor—she’s acting like a healer. Like the same wolf who’s patched me up after countless battles, who’s never hesitated to tell me when I’m being stubborn about an injury.

“Please,” Chloe whispers, her voice thick with pain. “The prophecy... she needs you. All of you. The power is too much for her to contain alone...”

Her words trail off as she loses consciousness. The scent of her distress hits me like a physical blow—reminds me too much of others we’ve lost to prophetic gifts. Young wolves whose bodies couldn’t contain the power flowing through them.

Through our mate bonds, I feel Lara’s terror for her sister warring with her instinct to fight. Silver power coils around her defensively, but she doesn’t attack. Can’t attack, not while Chloe needs her.

“How long has she been like this?” I demand.

“The visions started intensifying two days ago,” Sarah answers, already moving to mix more herbs. “Her heart can’t take the strain much longer.”

I study the young prophet, noting the shadows under her eyes, the way her skin seems almost translucent. “Like Marina,” I say quietly.

Sarah’s hands still. “You remember her?”

“Hard to forget.” Marina had been our pack’s last prophet, centuries ago. We’d watched helplessly as the gift consumed her from within, her heart finally giving out during a particularly powerful vision. “How bad is it?”

“Worse than Marina.” Sarah’s voice holds centuries of collected knowledge. “The prophecies are trying to force their way through all at once. As if something’s coming that’s so important, the gift itself is trying to warn us, no matter the cost to its vessel.”

Lara’s hand tightens around her sister’s. “Can you help her?”

The vulnerability in her voice makes my wolf whine. This is our mate, asking for help to save her sister. Every instinct demands I protect them both.

“I can buy her time,” Sarah says carefully. “But she needs more than herbs and healing magic. She needs...”

She trails off as Chloe begins to convulse, prophecy pouring from her lips in the ancient tongue. The words send chills down my spine:

"Silver rises, blood calls, three must bind or all will fall. The darkness comes on wings of flame, seeking power in ancient name. Wolf and witch and warrior true, bound by bonds both old and new...”

Her voice breaks on a gasp of pain. Lara makes a sound of distress, and without thinking, I move to her side. My hand covers hers where it grips Chloe’s, lending her my strength.

Surprise flickers across her face at the contact, her eyes darting to my face. I hold her gaze for a moment, allowing my truth to shine through—I mean her no harm. All I want is to protect her. To protect them both.

The effect is instant. Silver power surges between us, and Chloe’s breathing eases slightly. The prophecy’s grip loosens, letting her slip into natural sleep instead of unconsciousness.

“Interesting,” Sarah murmurs. “The mate bond... it’s helping stabilize her somehow.”

I look down at where my hand still covers Lara’s. Power thrums between us, her silver energy mixing with my Alpha strength in a way that feels right. Natural. Like puzzle pieces clicking into place.

Like the prophecy says.

“The prophecy mentioned three bonds,” Sarah continues thoughtfully. “Three anchors to contain the silver power. Perhaps...”

“No.” Lara jerks away from my touch. “I won’t let you use my sister’s condition to manipulate me.”

“This isn’t manipulation,” I growl. “This is about survival. Yours and hers.”

“She’s right,” Sarah interrupts before we can argue further. “The silver power in your bloodline—it’s not just a gift, Lara. It’s a responsibility. One that requires balance.”

“What do you know about it?” Lara demands.

Sarah’s expression grows distant. “I was there, you know. When the last silver wolf tried to contain the power alone. I watched it consume her from within, turning her into something that wasn’t wolf or woman but something else entirely. Something dangerous.”

Ice settles in my stomach as I remember those dark days. The battles. The destruction. The price we’d ultimately paid to stop her. A price I won't let history repeat.

“That won’t happen to me,” Lara insists, but uncertainty colors her tone.

“It’s already happening.” Sarah gestures to where silver power still coils around Lara like living smoke. “The power grows stronger every day. Without proper anchors to ground it...”

“Then I’ll find another way to control it.” She steps back, withdrawing into that steel shell of hers. "I don't need the Kings. I don't need any of this."

“There is no other way.” My voice comes out harder than intended. “The mate bonds aren’t just about dominance, little Alpha. They’re about balance. Protection. The strength to contain power that would otherwise destroy you.”

Lara’s eyes flash. “I never asked for this power. Or these bonds.”

“No one asks for their fate,” Sarah says quietly. “We only choose how to face it.”

Before Lara can respond, Chloe stirs. Her eyes open, eerily bright with remnants of prophetic power. “The kings,” she whispers. “All three... needed...”

“Save your strength,” Lara soothes, but Chloe grabs her wrist with surprising force.

“Listen to me. The ritual Jackson’s planning... it will break everything. The bonds between packs, between wolves and moon, between power and purpose...” She breaks off, coughing. “You need them, sister. All of them. Their strength, their protection...”

“We can discuss this after you’re stronger,” Lara tries, but I catch the fear in her scent. Fear not of us, but for her sister. That knowledge sends protective instincts surging.

I make a decision. “Sarah.”

She looks up from grinding herbs. “My King?”

“You’ll stay here. Treat the prophet. Keep her alive.”

Sarah meets my eyes without flinching. Then she nods, a flicker of relief in her eyes. "Thank you."

“But,” I continue, letting Alpha power color my voice, “if you betray us again, if you help our mate flee...”

“I won’t.” She meets my gaze steadily. “I serve the pack, my King. Always have. And right now, serving the pack means keeping this girl alive long enough to deliver her prophecies. All of them.”

I nod shortly. Through our bonds, I feel my brothers’ approach. They’ve sensed my location, felt the surge of power when I touched Lara. Soon they’ll demand answers. Demand we move.

Unless we have a reason to stay.

That decision made, I turn to Lara, allowing my concern to show. Giving her a glimpse of the worried mate, not the cold and ruthless Alpha King she expects. Letting her see the truth I try so hard to keep hidden.

“Your sister stays here,” I tell Lara. “Under Sarah’s care. Under our protection.”

Her eyes narrow. “And me?”

“That depends on you.” I move closer, letting her feel the full weight of our connection. “Stay. Let us help you understand these powers. Let us be the anchors you need.”

“Or?” she challenges.

“Or watch your sister suffer as the prophecies tear her apart.” The words taste bitter, but they’re necessary. “Your choice.”

She looks at Chloe’s pale face, then back to me. Hatred and need war in her expression. “This isn’t a choice. It’s blackmail.”

“This is survival,” I correct. “Yours, hers, maybe everyone’s.” I catch her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “The question is: how many people have to suffer before you accept what you truly are?”

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t pull away either. Through our bond, I feel the moment she makes her decision. Feel her wolf’s satisfaction as she finally, reluctantly, leans into the connection instead of fighting it.

“I’ll stay,” she whispers. “For now. For her.”

It’s not a surrender. Not really. But it’s a start.

And as my brothers arrive, their power filling the small cabin, I realize it’s more than that. It’s the first step toward fulfilling a prophecy none of us fully understand yet.

The silver wolf may not be ready to submit.

But she’s finally ready to listen.

And sometimes, that’s all the opening a warrior needs.