I catch Rafe’s expression from across the room—his jaw rigid, those steel-blue eyes hardening to something that looks dangerously close to old pain. A former Alpha watching another pack’s leadership structure face deliberate dismantling, even temporarily. His hands clench at his sides.
“What happens if you go too far?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Permanent severing,” Isla says quietly. “If done wrong, complete pack structure collapse.”
“Could the Alphas die during this?” Kari asks bluntly.
Lyanna meets her eyes. “Yes. As Alphas, they’re bonded to every member of this pack. That’s dozens of connections we’d be dampening simultaneously. The shock to their systems could be fatal.”
“And if we do nothing?” Reyna asks, her voice tight with barely controlled frustration.
“They’ll be gone by morning. All of them,” Nyxiana says quietly.
The room falls silent. Dane’s chest rises and falls with labored breathing—each inhale a fight, each exhale a surrender. Nova lies in the next bed, her skin the color of old ash.
“There has to be another way,” Wyatt says, but his voice lacks conviction. He knows. We all know.
Kari stares at Dane for a long moment. When she speaks, her voice cracks. “Do it. Whatever it takes.”
The others nod reluctantly, horror and desperate hope warring on their faces.
Lyanna straightens her shoulders. “I’ll need complete silence. Absolute focus. One misstep and we could lose them permanently.”
As the preparations begin, I find myself moving closer to Lyanna, torn between terror at what we’re about to attempt and a desperate need to help her carry this impossible burden.
I position myself between the beds, connecting color-coded monitoring wires to the unconscious pack members. Each setup is identical—four connection points for magical readings, two for vital signs, one central line for emergency bond restoration.
“Test sequence on Dane,” I call to Harper, who’s calibrating the monitoring equipment.
She nods, fingers moving over the touchscreen. “Bond strength at forty-two percent and falling. Corruption levels rising in pattern with previous drops.”
My hands shake slightly as I secure the last monitor to Ben’s chest. I’ve faced rogue Alphas and survived pitched battles. I’ve watched Lyanna purge corruption from Kieran’s entire pack after dark fae magic poisoned their bonds. I’ve seen her cleanse assassins twisted by fallen angel influence. She’s done the impossible before.
But this is different.
“Lyanna, talk me through the risk assessment again,” I say, my voice steady despite the churning in my gut.
She looks up from the bond dampening equipment she’s calibrating, her face pale but composed. “If we go too shallow, the corruption continues consuming them. If we go too deep ...” She doesn’t finish.
“Permanent severance,” Harper says clinically, though I see the tension in her shoulders. “Complete pack collapse.”
Nyxiana moves between beds, her white flame magic flickering around her hands. “We’ll need continuous readings on Nova. As Alpha female, her connections are most extensive alongside Dane’s.”
I check the backup systems, triple-verifying each connection.
Elysia approaches with the emergency revival kit. “Stabilization protocols are in place. If the bonds drop below twenty percent, we use this.” She holds up a sealed vial of glowing silver liquid. “It’s experimental—a bond stabilizer Lachlan developed. We inject it directly into the pack bond channels if things go critical.”
I force myself to catalog the unconscious pack members clinically—Dane, Nova, Ben, Amara, Gabriel, Mariel, Connor, Cassie, and Kieran. Nine people. Nine lives hanging onto what happens in the next hour.
I shove the fear down hard, treating this as a tactical problem. Leadership continuity threatened. Operational gaps forming. I keep the analysis cold, refusing to acknowledge the pressure building behind my ribs.
Across the room, Harper sits beside Ben’s bed during a brief lull, speaking quietly to him even though he can’t hear. Her fingers trace absent patterns on the back of his hand. When she notices me watching, she stands quickly, all business again—but not before I see the raw fear in her eyes. The same fear I’m refusing to examine in myself.
“Everyone in position,” Lyanna says, her voice remarkably steady for someone about to perform the most dangerous healing procedure I’ve ever witnessed.
Wyatt stands rigid by the wall, his weathered face grim. “Just tell us what to do.”
“If this works,” Reyna says, “what happens to the corruption?”
