Chapter 7 CHAPTER SEVEN

Matt’s POV

The courtyard echoed with the clash of steel and the guttural growls of wolves sparring in their human forms. Sweat dripped from my brow as I brought my opponent to the ground with a swift twist of the wrist, pinning him into the dirt. The crowd of warriors cheered, not for the victory itself but for the reminder that their Alpha was still sharp, still strong, still unbroken.

I rose, offering a hand to the younger wolf I’d bested. He took it eagerly, eyes gleaming with admiration. That look. That blind faith. It was the one thing I could never allow myself to lose.

Because if they saw through the cracks, if they saw how my nights were spent listening to Hellen’s shallow breathing, praying she’d see the morning, they would know just how close to breaking I truly was.

My Luna. My mate. My Hellen.

She had grown quieter these days, though I told myself it was just the sickness, nothing more. But last night, when her eyes found mine, demanding the truth I could not give, I felt the space was widening between us.

And I hated myself for it.

“Alpha.”

I turned at the sound of Paul’s voice. My Beta stepped forward, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his chest still heaving from training. But his eyes were sharp, perceptive, and never missed a thing.

“You push yourself too hard,” he said simply.

I barked a humourless laugh. “That’s what an Alpha does. He carries what others cannot.”

Paul studied me in silence, his jaw ticking, but he didn’t argue. He never did, not unless he thought it would matter.

“Still,” he said at last, lowering his voice so the others couldn’t hear, “you can’t keep this up forever. Not with her—” He stopped himself, but the words still cut.

Not with her like this.

My jaw tightened. “She’s stronger than they think,” I said through clenched teeth.

“They?” Paul’s brows lifted.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because to say it aloud would make it real that I had heard the whispers too, the doubts creeping through the pack like a sickness of its own.

Luna is weak. She won’t last. She doesn’t deserve him.

The words haunted me, twisting deeper every time I saw Laura lingering at Hellen’s side, her smiles sweet, her presence constant. Too constant.

Later that day, after the warriors dispersed and the noise of the courtyard faded, I made my way through the corridors of the stronghold. My steps slowed as I passed the healer’s quarters. The faint murmur of voices reached me, muffled but clear enough to stop me in my tracks.

“Another dose will weaken her further,” the healer said.

My blood ran cold.

“And that is exactly what we need,” came Laura’s voice, smooth and deliberate.

My fists clenched, my heart hammering against my ribs. For a moment, I thought I had misheard. But then the healer continued, her words hushed but undeniable.

“If the Alpha notices—”

“He won’t,” Laura cut in, almost smug. “His guilt too blinds him to see the truth.”

I froze, every instinct screaming at me to storm inside, to tear the truth from their throats. But I forced myself to stillness, my back pressed against the stone wall, listening.

Blinded by guilt.

The words were a knife, because they were true.

I had failed once before. Long before Hellen. Another woman, another promise I couldn’t keep. A memory I buried so deep it clawed at me only in the darkest hours. Her blood on my hands. My vow that it would never happen again.

And yet, here I was, failing once more.

The voices inside quieted, the sound of footsteps moving away. I pressed my palms to the cold stone, forcing myself to breathe.

If Laura and the healer truly were poisoning her, then every day Hellen spent beneath my roof was a day closer to her death.

And it was my fault.

That night, when I returned to our chamber, she was awake, her eyes catching the firelight, soft but searching. She smiled faintly when she saw me, though the effort it cost her broke me in ways I couldn’t admit.

“You’re late,” she whispered.

“I had matters to attend to,” I said, forcing my voice steady as I stripped off my shirt. Her gaze lingered on me, not with desire, but with worry. Always worry.

I slid into bed beside her, gathering her fragile frame against me. She fit against me like she always had, like she belonged there. And yet, I couldn’t shake the echo of Laura’s voice.

Another dose will weaken her further.

My arms tightened around Hellen. She stirred, tilting her head up toward me.

“Matt… what’s wrong?”

Everything.

But I couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Not until I knew for sure.

So I kissed her forehead instead, whispering, “Nothing. Sleep.”

But sleep eluded me.

Hours later, when the fire had burned low and Hellen’s breath evened into slumber, I slipped from the bed and stood at the window, staring out into the darkened courtyard. My reflection in the glass was not that of the Alpha they worshipped. It was a man haunted by his failures, desperate to keep hold of the one thing he couldn’t bear to lose.

If Laura wanted to play this game, she would learn soon enough that an Alpha may bend, but he never breaks.

A shadow shifted in the courtyard below. Laura. Standing there in the moonlight, looking up towardour window. And when our eyes met, she smiled.