Chapter 8
Dahlia’s POV
The surgery took six hours. By the time I stepped out of the operating theater, my back was aching and my hands were stiff, but Elder Thomas was stable. I had removed the blackened tissue around his heart.
The tissue hadn’t just been rotting, but was literally saturated with a dark, oily substance I couldn’t yet identify.
I pulled off my surgical gloves and walked to the hallway. Nate was leaning against the wall directly opposite the door. He looked like he hadn’t moved an inch since I went in. His hair was messy, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“He’s alive,” I said before he could even ask.
The tension left his shoulders so fast he almost stumbled. He let out a long, shaky breath. “Thank you, Dahlia p>
“Doctor,” I corrected him immediately, giving him a stern look. He adjusted immediately. Something about seeing him cautious and uncomfortable around me massaged my ego.
I began walking toward the private recovery lounge. I needed coffee, but more than that, I needed to check my phone. I needed to know Sinclair had followed my instructions.
Nate followed me, his footsteps heavy on the tile.
“The elders are already asking questions. They want to know why the famous Dr. Willow is so invested in a ’rankless’ pack’s survival. And Gina… she’s asking even more p>
I paused for a while before responding. “Rankless park? Is that how far you have fallen p>
“Dahlia.. a lot has happened these past few years. Especially about Gina’s inability to bear pups, no one in the pack is. There are whispers.. they think it’s beyond the physical.” Nate said.
I didn’t turn back to look at him, but I could hear the worry in his voice.
“They have the right to, don’t you think?” I said, stopping at the coffee machine. I turned to face him, keeping the mask between us.
“But you have bigger problems. I found something in the Elder’s chest. It wasn’t just silver poisoning. It was a spiritual toxin. Someone has been using dark additives in the pack’s supplies. I think it’s the same thing that is causing the infertility p>
Nate’s face hardened. “What are you saying p>
“I’m saying the rot isn’t just in the Elder. It’s in the pack house. I need full access to the kitchens and the apothecary stores if you want me to stop this p>
Before he could respond, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out. It was a message from Sinclair: The files are ready. He’s outside.
“My husband’s brother is here,” I said, looking up at Nate. “He brought the medical equipment I need for the Luna’s next stage, and some personal items for me. He’ll be at the gate p>
Nate’s eyes flared with a sudden, possessive heat. “The ’brother’ of the man you married p>
“His name is Silas Vance,” I said, using Sinclair’s middle name and my fake husband’s surname. “He’s been helping me raise the children since Mark died. He’s the closest thing they have to a father now p>
I could practically hear Nate’s wolf growling. The idea of another man, especially one who was part of my supposed late husband’s family was clearly driving him insane.
“I’ll go with you to the gate,” Nate said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low tone.
“Fine. But remember our deal, Alpha. He is a human. If you use your power to intimidate him, I leave. And the Elder dies in recovery.” I said firmly.
We walked to the main gate of the pack territory in a suffocating silence. A silver sedan was parked just outside the boundary. Mr. Sinclair was leaning against his car, wearing a sharp suit and a pair of glasses that made him look like a high-end city lawyer.
As we approached, Sinclair straightened up. He didn’t look at Nate with fear. He looked at him with a cold, protective glare.
“Dahlia,” Sinclair said, stepping forward. He handed me a thick leather folder. “I brought the birth certificates and the insurance papers you asked for. And the kids wanted me to give you this p>
He handed me a crumpled drawing. It was a stick-figure picture of the triplets and a tall man with ’Daddy’ written over his head in crayon. I felt a pang of guilt, but I held it up so Nate could see it.
Nate’s face went pale. He reached for the folder, but Sinclair pulled it back.
“Who are you?” Nate demanded, his voice trembling with restrained fury.
“Silas Vance,” I replied before Sinclair could speak. He shot me a subtle look of surprise. I couldn’t have him ruin the lies I already told Nate.
“Mark’s brother.” Sinclair straightened, playing along.
“And you must be the Alpha I’ve heard so little about. Dahlia mentioned her old pack was… traditional. I didn’t realize that meant you stood around staring at people on public roads p>
Nate stepped into Sinclair’s personal space, his Alpha scent exploding into the air; a heavy, suffocating smell of ozone and storm clouds. “Those children. They are mine. I don’t care what papers you have p>
Sinclair didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.
“My brother raised those children from the moment they took their first breath. He stayed up during the fevers. He taught Aidan how to ride a bike. He is the only father they know. You? You’re just a ghost from the past that Dahlia worked very hard to forget p>
Nate looked like he was going to shift right there on the gravel. His eyes were glowing a bright, predatory blue.
“Nate,” I cut in. “The folder p>
Nate snatched the folder from Sinclair’s hand and ripped it open. I watched his eyes scan the documents I had spent thousands of dollars to forge years ago.
Father: Mark Vance (Deceased p>
Birth Date: 19th August, 2020 (Six months after I left the pack)
Blood Type: Human compatible (O negative)
It was all there. A perfect, paper trail that erased him from their lives.
Nate’s hands began to shake. He dropped the folder, the papers scattering in the dirt.
“This is a lie. It has to be. I felt them, Dahlia. I felt the bond p>
“The only bond you feel is your own regret, Nate,” I said softly. I stepped toward Sinclair and took the equipment bag from the trunk. “Thank you, Silas. Tell the kids I’ll be home soon p>
“Take your time,” Sinclair said, giving me a knowing look. “They’re safe with me. They know their family protects them p>
As Sinclair drove away, Nate stood in the middle of the road, looking smaller than I had ever seen him. He was a king with no heirs, an Alpha with no legacy.
“I don’t believe it,” he whispered, looking at the drawing of the ’Daddy’ in my hand.
“Believe what you want,” I said, walking back toward the pack house. “But while you’re chasing ghosts, your pack is dying. Do you want to be a father to children who aren’t yours, or do you want to be an Alpha who saves his people p>
I didn’t wait for his answer. I headed back to the medical wing, the folder tucked under my arm. The lie was set. The wall was up.
Now, all I had to do was find out why the Silver-Crest bloodline was being murdered from the inside out.