A wolf ran through the forest, each stride heavier than the last, her body dragging under the weight of an open wound. Blood seeped from the gash in her stomach, staining the earth beneath her, but she pressed on, ignoring the searing pain. Breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, strength draining with every pounding step, yet still, she ran—paws slamming into the forest floor with no care for silence.

  A soft whimper slipped from her throat as the barrier loomed before her. Finally. The end was within reach. Legs buckled, no longer able to hold her weight, and the body crumpled to the ground. Tremors ran through exhausted limbs, blood pooling beneath, thick and warm as stillness settled over her.

  They would find her soon.

  Eyelids fluttered shut, the ache in every muscle making rest a distant dream. More than anything, the promise of sleep beckoned—to let the pain slip away. Heavy lids lifted to the sky above. Not yet. Not here.

  Then came the sound of paws—heavy, purposeful. Wolves closing in.

  Another whimper escaped, weaker this time, a plea meant to guide them to her. Growls rumbled in the night, sharp and distrustful. The blood, the broken form before them—it was still a rogue. A threat.

  A choice.

  With what little strength remained, the injured wolf shifted, knowing full well the pain would be unbearable. Bones snapped, muscles twisted, a body turning against itself as it reshaped. A choked cry broke from trembling lips, the shift stealing what little remained.

  Still, she had to. They needed to see—not a rogue, not an enemy, but the girl she had once been. They had to understand, or else they would finish what the forest had started.

  Her fingers pressed weakly against the wound, blood slipping between them.

  Please. The word barely left her fragile lips, no stronger than a breath.

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  The wolves hesitated. Growls softened, no longer sure. Stories had been told of monsters, of rogues who killed without mercy. But this? This was no monster.

  Eyes flickered, a silent message passing between them. Yes, contact was being made. Someone with more authority. The decision wasn't theirs.

  Then, wolves stepped aside, bowing their heads as another moved forward, carrying quiet command.

  A man now, no longer a wolf, loomed above her. Strong arms scooped the fragile body up as though it weighed nothing. Warmth bled into frozen skin, and a shuddering exhale left her lips—half relief, half surrender.

  A fate sealed.

  The wolves flanked them as he ran, pace swift, formation protective. The sky blurred, vision flickering in and out of focus.

  A flash of trees. Blood on the earth. A voice, distant and distorted.

  Then—nothing.

  Everything went white.

  For a moment, it seemed as though the fight had been lost. Maybe this was the afterlife. But if it was, why was there so much noise? Her throbbing head pulsed with the clash of voices, metal clattering, distant growls, and an odd, rhythmic beeping.

  Peace. Quiet. That was all she wanted.

  Suddenly, a roar. Deep, guttural, furious. The sound rumbled through the air, swallowing everything else.

  And then—silence.

  Finally.

  A voice cut through the stillness. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

  Brows tensed at the disturbance. What did it want? Could she?

  Somehow, she did.

  The face of an old man came into focus, his concerned gaze locked onto hers. Rough hands cupped fragile cheeks, grounding her in reality, keeping her from slipping too far.

  Another roar shook the room, but exhaustion held her still.

  "I need you to fight." Urgency laced the old man's voice. "Keep your wolf awake, even as you sleep. You need its healing force, or you won't make it."

  Another crash—something slamming against a wall. Rage. Fury. The old man didn't even flinch, focus solely on her.

  "Can you do that?"

  Could she?

  A barely-there nod.

  She never registered the shout that resonated before the darkness pulled her under.

  Somewhere beyond the haze, a shout cut through the air, raw with uncontained fury.

  "Don't you dare let her die!"

  The words were a snarl, vibrating the very walls. The wolf they belonged to—barely restrained—struggled against those holding him back, growls filling the space with pure, unrelenting rage. Trays crashed to the ground. Hands reached to subdue him, but it took more than a few men to drag him from the room.

  The doctor exhaled, shoulders sagging as the chaos settled. A quiet, muttered command followed.

  "Don't let him see that."

  Fingers reached for a cloth, carefully covering the mating mark scorched into the girl's skin.

  Right over her heart.