One down.Who knew how many to go.
As she worked, her thoughts circled back to the events that had brought her here.To Conall Stewart.To the Sunburst Pack that had destroyed her life.
They killed him.Exiled him first, then hunted him down like an animal.
Her father’s voice echoed in her memory.If anything happens to me, don’t trust Sunburst.Especially the twins.
Gregory Torrance had been Vincent’s right hand, his enforcer.When Sunburst’s leadership changed—when these so-calledcoalphastook charge—they’d cast out anyone loyal to the old regime.
Her father had been the first to go.
Nadine extracted another silver fragment, larger than the first.A hiss escaped through clenched teeth.
This is your fault, Stewart,she growled, as if he could hear her.
She’d been building her case.Tracking movements.Gathering intelligence.Planning her revenge.
Then in one moment, one single moment of eye contact in that ravine, the universe had decided to play the cruelest joke imaginable.
Mate.
To Conall Stewart.
To the man who may have killed her father.
Bile rose in her throat, and this time it wasn’t from the silver fever.
The bond doesn’t matter.It changes nothing.
She gritted her teeth and went back to work.
Another fragment extracted.Blood and clear fluid wept from the wound.
Shut up,she muttered to herself, to her wolf.Mate bonds are basic biology.Nothing more.
But they had protected each other.
Why?
The question burned hotter than the silver in her blood.She’d risked everything to lead those operatives away from his unconscious form.Had taken a bullet for her efforts.
I need him alive to question him.
But that wasn’t the whole truth.Something deeper had driven her actions—something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
After almost an hour of meticulous work, Nadine had extracted all the silver fragments she could locate.The wound continued to weep, but the unnatural heat had diminished slightly.She poured antiseptic over the area, welcoming the searing pain as distraction from her thoughts.
Next came the poultice of healing herbs—wolf’s bane and echinacea, mixed with a proprietary blend her father had developed specifically for silver wounds.The earthy scent brought another wave of grief.He’d taught her everything about survival, about treating injuries that would kill most shifters.
And now he was gone.
Nadine wrapped the wound with bandages, her movements precise despite her exhaustion.When she finished, she leaned back against the rock, taking inventory of her situation.
The silver poisoning wasn’t completely neutralized, but she’d bought herself time.The fever would linger for days, the wound healing far slower than a normal injury.
She needed rest.Safety.
Neither of which she could find within fifty miles of Sunburst territory.
