Chapter 6
The moon–sickness from the silver treatment left me weak. After talking with Storm, exhaustion pulled me into a restless sleep.
For days, Thorne never appeared. Instead, his beta wolves brought healing herbs and moon–blessed fruits. “The territory borders need securing. The Alpha can’t leave his post,” they mumbled. “He asks that you rest, Luna.”
Storm’s growl rattled the windows. “Is he dying? What border threat could be more Important than his mate who lost his pup? Does he forget who caused her pain?”
The young betas retreated, tails tucked. Storm followed their scent trail, returning moments. later with her fur bristling in rage.
“What is it?” I asked, noting her agitation.
Storm paced, claws flexing. Her eyes met mine, filled with pack–sister protectiveness.
“Show me,” I whispered. “Whatever it is, my wolf can bear it.”
She helped me into a wheelchair, guiding me through the sterile halls to the private wing where they kept wolves suffering from silver sickness.
Through the window, I saw them. Silvana lay curled against Thorne’s chest, her fingers clutching his Alpha’s ceremonial jacket, her face buried in his neck – a position reserved for
mates.
“Alpha, I fear death,” she whimpered. “I can’t bear leaving you behind.”
She spoke of fate’s cruelty – how they were born in different packs, meeting too late, after
both had taken mates. The pain of never being his Luna tore at her heart. If death took her now, she feared their spirits would never align under the same moon again.
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Thorne set aside the ancient pack texts he held, his hand stroking her silver–streaked hair. “Peace, little wolf. I won’t let you fade so easily.”
The Brob
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My heart shattered like ice in spring thaw. He didn’t reject her. Didn’t remind her of pack law or mate–bonds.
Back in my room, I found Thorne’s forgotten grimoire. Among the pack histories and border maps, I found his hurried scrawl:
I would follow this kindred spirit into death’s shadows. But I cannot. My Luna needs me. And I must guard Silvana’s pup – her heart won’t rest otherwise.
A broken laugh escaped my throat. I understood now why they say a wolf’s deepest pain comes with a smile. I laughed until tears fell, my claws shredding the blankets.
So he chose to live. But was it for his mate? Or for her pup?
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The Broken Lima Unbound.