Curled on her side. Arms wrapped around her stomach.
The herbal tea spilled beside her, pooling into the dirt. Her face was ashen, drained of the glow that had been building since the first bond channel restored. The mismatched eyes were closed and the heartbeats beneath her folded arms were faint, erratic, struggling.
My knees hit the ground beside her.
“Mira. Open your eyes.”
Nothing.
Her breathing was shallow, rapid, the pattern of a body fighting an invasion it didn’t understand. Through the bond I could feel the babies’ distress, guttering where minutes ago they’d been strong, fed by a complete network that was now channeling poison instead of warmth.
Percival crashed through the tree line. I heard the branches snap before I saw him, his wolf barely contained beneath his skin,eyes wild. He dropped beside her on the opposite side and his hands found her face, her neck, checking her pulse with fingers that trembled.
“What happened? What the fuck happened?!”
“The tea.” My voice came out barely controlled. “The tea was tampered with.”
I didn’t move from her side. Not because I was calm. But because the rage building in my chest had reached the threshold where movement meant destruction.
If I stood up, if I walked into that clearing, I would seize the first body within reach and separate its head from its shoulders before my brain identified whether it belonged to friend or enemy.
So I stayed. Hands on her stomach. Feeling my children fade.
Solomon materialized from the eastern perimeter. No sound or warning. One moment the tent held two alphas and an unconscious woman. The next, he stood at the entrance with a look in his face that preceded violence the way silence preceded thunder.
His silver eyes moved from Mira to the spilled tea to the cup on its side. The analysis took two seconds. The conclusion locked into place behind an expression that made Percy, mid-panic, go quiet.
Solomon turned and walked out of the tent.
His voice carried across the clearing with a volume I had never heard from him. Not in four centuries of service. Not in battle, not in crisis, not in the worst moments of our shared history.
“WHO DID THIS TO HER?”
The camp froze.
Every soldier, every hunter, every council representative stopped moving. Solomon stood at the center of the clearing half-shifted, his claws fully extended, his canines dropped, the bones in his jaw distorted by a transformation he hadn’t chosen. The composure that defined him burned away by a rage his body couldn’t contain in human form.
“Someone in this camp poisoned my mate.” Each word came out warped by the shifted jaw, guttural and barely intelligible. His gaze swept every face, silver eyes gone wolf-bright. “I am going to find out who. And what happens next will depend entirely on how quickly they step forward.”
No one moved.
“Now.”
Soldiers looked at each other. Council representatives retreated. Converted hunters clustered together, Kaia’s hand dropping to her blade out of habit.
Voss stepped forward.
“Your hunters.” He pointed at the group. “They have access to the supply station. They’ve been moving freely through this camp since your king decided to play diplomat.”
Reese flinched. Damon straightened with fury already building behind his jaw.
“Why would we poison her?” Kaia’s voice cut through. “She’s the reason we’re alive. She’s the reason any of us are standing here instead of following Thiago’s orders.”
“Because you’re hunters.” Voss didn’t back down. “Your species has tortured ours for centuries. Trust isn’t erased by a week of training drills.”
“Our species?” Damon stepped forward. “We left everything to be here. Families, homes, our entire lives. And you’re accusing us because of what, blood?”
“I’m accusing you because someone poisoned the future queen and your people had an opportunity.”
