Scent of the Injured

POV: Lyanna

I need to let Anita out before she tears my mind apart from the inside.

With the brutal, unrelenting schedule I am forced to keep at the university, there is barely enough time to breathe, let alone give my wolf the freedom she desperately craves. My days are consumed by thick, heavy textbooks, endless lectures, and the quiet, agonizing pressure of pretending to be a normal, fragile human girl. Organic chemistry, anatomy, physiology—I drown myself in these subjects, using the academic stress as a shield to block out the constant, lingering terror of Vance. But Anita is growing more restless by the hour, her claws scraping against the edges of my consciousness until my head thumps with a dull, persistent ache.

"School is boring. Humans are boring. I want to run, Lyanna," she grumbles in our shared mind, her voice sharp, impatient, and heavy with frustration.

"We are going, Anita. Just hold on a little longer," I reply, keeping my thoughts as steady as possible as I navigate my beaten-up sedan down the dark, winding highway.

"Do not make me wait this long again. It has been months since we stretched our legs."

She is right. It has been nearly two months since I last let her take control. But the risk of shifting in these areas is too high. I know how the local packs fight over these border territories, and the last thing I need is to get caught in the middle of a territorial war, or worse, to be spotted by Vance.

"I am too fast for him to catch us," Anita huffs, her wolfish pride wounded. "Besides, he has no idea we are still this close to his border."

By close, she means a two-hour drive from his pack's territory. To a human, that distance feels safe. To a wolf on the hunt, it is nothing. A wolf can run nearly as fast as a car, and when that wolf is fueled by malice and obsession, nothing stands in their way.

Whenever I take Anita out, I make sure to drive in the exact opposite direction of Vance’s pack. Technically, it is not his pack yet; it is his father’s. Alpha Gideon has been the leader of my old pack for as long as I can remember. He is a strong, honorable man who rules with fairness. His son, Vance, however, is a cruel, sadistic piece of work. Vance lives to fight, dominate, and kill. The two of us could not be more different. I want to heal. I want to save lives.

Yet, for reasons I still do not understand, Vance set his sights on me years ago. I am an orphan with no rank, no power, and no family status. My parents were pack warriors who died in a senseless border war when I was young. While I know how to fight, I prefer to use my brain. Vance, on the other hand, prefers to use his raw, unearned Alpha strength. He was born larger and stronger than everyone else, so he never had to work for anything. He does not value what he has. I have had to fight for every scrap of my education, and I could not have done it without Alpha Gideon's intervention.

After my parents died, Gideon became my guardian. He made sure I was cared for, fed, and educated. Maybe he wanted a daughter, or maybe he saw that I possessed the focus and empathy his own son lacked, but he always protected me. He protected me so much that when he realized Vance was developing a dangerous, obsessive interest in me, Gideon secretly sent me away. He knew his son was ruthless and did not want me to suffer under Vance's control.

So, I hide here, pretending to be human, keeping my wolf locked away in the shadows.

I pull my car onto a dirt shoulder at the edge of the state forest, stepping out into the cool, crisp night air. I take a deep, steadying breath, scanning the tree line and scenting the wind for any signs of danger.

"Anita? Do you smell anything out there?"

"No other wolves," she says, her tone tinged with a quiet, hollow sadness. She misses the pack. She misses the running, the howling, the shared warmth of a family.

I look around one last time to ensure the area is deserted, then walk deep into the dense, shadowed trees. Once I am hidden by the thick canopy, I strip off my jeans, my shirt, and my underwear, shivering slightly as the cool air hits my bare skin. I bundle my clothes together and tuck them high up on a sturdy branch of an old oak tree, far above eye level. I keep a spare set in my trunk just in case, but tonight, I just want to escape the weight of my life.

I let Anita take over. The shift begins. The change is a violent tearing of my human form. My rib cage expands, cracking as my lungs swell to twice their size. My spine lengthens, vertebrae popping one by one into a new alignment. I drop to my hands and knees as my fingers fuse, fingernails thickening into black, razor-sharp claws. The pain is sharp and familiar, magnified by the months of suppressing my wolf. I gasp, gripping the damp earth as thick, reddish-brown fur sprouts from my skin. Within seconds, the pain fades, replaced by the wild, electric energy of the wolf.

Anita shakes her fur, paws digging into the dirt, and takes off into the darkness.

I sink into the back of our shared mind, letting her guide our body. The sensation of running is pure liberation. Her muscles flex and bunch with every leap, her paws hitting the forest floor in a silent, rhythmic beat. The cool night air rushes against our face, carrying the scent of pine, damp soil, and rotting leaves. For a brief moment, the stress of my exams and the terror of Vance melt away into the quiet of the woods.

I do not know how long we run, but the peace does not last.

Suddenly, Anita skids to a halt, her nose lifting high into the air. The sharp, metallic stench of fresh blood cuts through the scent of pine.

"There was a fight nearby," Anita says in our mind, her body growing tense.

"Do you hear anyone?" I ask, my anxiety immediately spiking.

"I hear rustling. It sounds like an animal in distress. A big one." She tilts her head, her ears twitching to catch the faint sound of leaves scraping against the ground.

I listen closely through her ears. It is a heavy, rhythmic thrashing, accompanied by shallow, labored breathing.

"Anita, we should go. It could be a trap, or a scout from a rival pack."

"I will be careful," she reassures me. She knows my nature. Even if it is a werewolf, I cannot easily turn my back on an injured creature. I am studying medicine for this exact reason—to heal those who are broken.

Anita creeps forward, keeping her belly low to the wet earth, sliding silently through the thick underbrush. The thrashing grows louder, more desperate.

Then, the wind shifts.

A heavy wave of rich teakwood hits my senses. It is warm, deep, and intoxicating. The scent washes over me, sending a sudden, intense tingle of heat straight down my spine. My heart hammers against my ribs, and my mind spins with a sudden, overwhelming desire.

"Mate," Anita whispers, her voice filled with sudden awe.

"What? No, that is impossible," I argue, panic seizing my chest.

"That is our mate, Lyanna. He is hurt. We have to go to him."

My mind races in sheer panic. A mate. I have a mate, and he is out here, bleeding in the woods. But finding a mate means joining a pack, sharing a life, revealing my identity. If I am found, Vance will find me too. The life I have built, my studies, my safety—everything will be shattered. I cannot let myself get dragged into pack politics.

But as I look through Anita's eyes, the thrashing stops.

The forest goes dead silent.

Anita freezes, holding her breath.

A low, rumbling chuff echoes through the trees. It is a soft, weary sound. He knows we are here. There is no aggression in the call, no dominant threat. It is a quiet, desperate plea for help.

Anita pushes forward, parting the thick bushes.

My breath catches in my throat.

A massive wolf, midnight-black and larger than any wolf I have ever seen, lies pinned to the forest floor. A heavy, steel-jawed trap with rusted, jagged teeth is clamped around his rear leg. The mechanism is locked tight under immense spring tension. The teeth have bitten deep into his hind leg, tearing through muscle and grinding against the bone. Crimson blood pools beneath his paw, soaking the dry leaves.

"He is not howling," Anita observes, her thoughts trembling. "He is holding it in."

"If he shifts to his human form, the pressure will tear his leg right off," I realize, my medical training kicking in. "The teeth are locked tight. He cannot release it in this form."

"You have to help him, Lyanna. He is our mate. We cannot leave him." Anita’s thoughts are frantic, begging me.

"I know. I will. But I have to do this as a human."

Taking a deep breath, I force the shift backward. The bones in my body snap and reform once more, the skin stretching as I return to my human shape. I stand up, shivering slightly in the cool air, naked. My skin feels vulnerable, but I cannot free him with paws. I need human hands.

I step out of the shadows, keeping my hands raised where he can see them.

The midnight-black wolf turns his massive head toward me. His eyes are a striking, intelligent green, glowing faintly in the dim light. He watches me, his gaze sweeping over my bare skin, but there is no threat in his posture. Only pain and a strange, quiet intensity.

"Hey, big guy," I say, my voice soft, calm, and steady. "I see you are caught in a bad trap. I want to help you."

I take a slow step forward, keeping my movements deliberate. He is an Alpha-sized wolf, and if he panics, he could easily kill me, mate or not.

"I know you cannot shift. If you do, that trap will rip your leg off. Your bones are shattered, and I know it hurts. But I can get you out, if you let me."

I stop a few feet away, extending my bare hand toward his nose. "I am a medical student. I train to heal both humans and wolves. I am not going to hurt you. Let me look at it."

The giant wolf stares at my hand for a tense second. Then, he leans forward and sniffs my palm. The touch of his warm nose against my skin sends a jolt of heat through my body. He lets out a soft huff and nuzzles his heavy head into my hand, showing complete, absolute trust.

I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding, gently running my fingers through his thick black fur. It is coarse, matted with mud and dark, dried blood. I try not to think about the violence that led him here. He is alone, separated from his pack, and running out of time.

"Okay, big guy," I whisper, leaning closer. "Can you slide slightly to your right? I need the moonlight to see the release mechanism on this trap."

He grunts, dragging his massive body an inch to the side, keeping his weight off the trapped limb.

I kneel in the dirt, ignoring the cold ground against my bare knees. I inspect the heavy iron trap. It is a cruel, old-fashioned bear trap, the kind designed to lock tighter the more the victim struggles. The metal teeth are buried deep, and bone fragments are visible through his torn flesh.

"This is a nasty piece of work," I mutter, my fingers tracing the rusted spring. "Stupid idiots putting these in the woods."

I look up into his green eyes. "I am going to have to release the spring. When I do, the pressure is going to release, but the movement will hurt. It is going to hurt. But then you will be free."

I grip the heavy iron levers on either side of the trap.

"Try not to bite me," I warn him gently. "And try not to howl. If there are enemies nearby, we do not want to call them to us."

He lets out another low chuff, blinking as if to tell me he understands.

I close my eyes for a second, calling on Anita's strength. I feel her power flood my human muscles, giving me the leverage I need. I place my hands on the stiff metal springs.

"On three. Ready? One... two... three!"

With a desperate grunt, I shove down on the release mechanism with all my strength, Anita pushing through me. The thick metal springs resist, then give way with a loud, metallic clatter.

The heavy jaws of the trap snap open.

The wolf lets out a sharp, choked yelp of agony, but he bites down on his own tongue, silencing the sound. He quickly drags his mangled leg out of the trap, panting heavily as the bloody metal clatters against the dirt.

He turns, looking at me for a moment before his bones begin to snap as he shifts back into his human form, his ridiculously gorgeous, tall, muscular form.