Unhealed Wounds

~Rowena~

I stood rooted in the heart of the woods, trapped in a clearing bathed beneath the heavy, silver glow of a full moon. For a fleeting second, the brilliant light offered a fragile sense of safety. The night air felt cool against my skin. But the quiet shattered. Something stirred in the dense tree line ahead. Something lethal.

A breeze swept through the silent forest, carrying the distinct, musky scent of Engelwood and pine. The shadow creature lurked just out of sight, prowling through the dark brush. Dry leaves cracked and branches snapped under its slow, deliberate weight. It was stalking me.

My instincts screamed, urging my legs to sprint, demanding I seek cover. Yet my feet remained cemented to the damp earth. I squinted into the suffocating darkness, desperate to catch a glimpse of the predator.

A sudden, agonizing twist erupted in my stomach. A sharp, violent movement tore through my core, as if something trapped inside me clawed to escape. The distraction cost me. I snapped my gaze back up just as a massive, formless beast lunged from the shadows. Its jaws opened impossibly wide, aimed straight for my throat.

I jolted upright, tearing myself from the nightmare with a ragged, gasping breath. My hands flew up in defense, fists swinging blindly as my chest heaved.

"Hey, hey! You're okay!"

A firm, cool hand clamped onto my shoulder. I flinched, my eyes darting frantically around the confined space, searching for the shadow beast. Instead of a dark forest, I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of a moving vehicle. Kaelar kept one hand steady on the steering wheel while his other gripped my shoulder, his brows pinched in deep concern.

"Don't move around so much," he warned, his voice a low, grounding rumble. "You're still hurt. You were dreaming, Rowena. You're safe now."

My heart hammered against my bruised ribs like a caged bird. I reached out and clamped my fingers over his forearm. The solid muscle beneath his jacket proved he was real. The nightmare receded, leaving behind the stark, agonizing reality of my beaten body.

I swallowed hard, trying to moisten my dry throat. "We're here? How long was I out?"

Kaelar gently removed his hand from my shoulder and shifted his focus back to the road. His expression turned guarded. "We're just up the street from the clinic. You started thrashing around, fighting invisible monsters in your sleep. I figured I needed to wake you before you tore your stitches or made your injuries worse. Must have been a pretty bad nightmare."

He pressed the gas pedal, and the car accelerated down the quiet street toward the pack's medical center.

"Yeah," I mumbled, leaning my head back against the seat. "Something like that."

The adrenaline from the dream faded, and a massive tidal wave of physical pain crashed over me. Every inch of my body throbbed. The bruised muscles in my back burned, and drawing a full breath felt like inhaling shards of broken glass. I grimaced, wrapping my arms around my torso.

Kaelar reached over, giving my hand a brief, reassuring squeeze. "We're almost there. The healers will give you a quick fix. Plus, your own shifter healing factor should be kicking in by now anyway."

His words made sense in theory. Every wolf-shifter developed enhanced cellular regeneration during their teenage years. It stood as the only reason I survived my daily life. The constant bruises, scraped knees, and split lips dealt by Sloane’s posse—and Kendra’s heavy left hook—usually faded within hours.

But the throbbing above my eye told a different story.

I reached up, my trembling fingers grazing the gash on my forehead. I pulled the sun visor down and stared into the small mirror. The wound remained raw, jagged, and bleeding. The flesh showed zero signs of knitting together. My body had abandoned me.

Kaelar glanced over, his eyes lingering on the bloody mess above my brow. His jaw tightened. "Well. That’s not good."

Panic flared in my chest, hot and fast. "What do you mean it's not good?" My voice cracked, betraying my mounting terror. "What is wrong with me? Why aren't my wounds closing?"

Kaelar shrugged, his grip tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "I have no idea, Rowena. But we're about to find out."

He hit the brakes, pulling the car into the gravel parking lot of the pack clinic. Because our shifter biology processed trauma differently than regular humans, every pack maintained their own medical facility. We relied on specialized healers to mend the severe ailments our supernatural bodies failed to conquer.

Ailments like a broken healing factor.

I squeezed my eyes shut, a heavy wave of exhaustion washing over me. Today had spiraled into a living nightmare. I never should have left my bed this morning.

Kaelar cut the engine. Before I could even attempt to unbuckle my seatbelt, he stepped out, rounded the hood, and opened my door.

"I can walk," I lied, my voice tight with pain.

"Not a chance," he countered.

Without waiting for my permission, Kaelar leaned in, scooped me up, and lifted me into his arms. The sudden movement sent a fresh spike of agony radiating through my ribs. I clamped my mouth shut, stifling a whimper. I sat rigid against his chest, scowling at the clinic's glass exterior as he carried me through the revolving doors. Under normal circumstances, I would have shoved him away and berated him for babying me. But my strength had vanished.

The clinic smelled of harsh antiseptic, rubbing alcohol, and the faint, underlying scent of distressed wolves. Kaelar bypassed the empty waiting chairs and strode directly to the front desk. The receptionist took one look at my bruised face and bleeding head before frantically dialing a phone.

A nurse in pale blue scrubs rushed out from a set of double doors. She guided Kaelar down a sterile, white hallway and pointed into a small, private examination room. Kaelar lowered me onto the edge of the examination bed. The paper covering the mattress crinkled loudly under my weight.

"I'll go fetch the head healer," the nurse promised, hurrying out of the room.

Kaelar grabbed a plastic visitor’s chair, dragged it close to my bedside, and sat down. He planted his boots on the linoleum floor, leaned his forearms against his knees, and clasped his hands together.

I avoided his gaze, picking at a loose thread on my torn shirt. "You don't have to stay. Thank you for everything you did today, but I can handle the rest from here. I'm sure you have places to be."

"I have time to spare," Kaelar replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. He tilted his head, studying me with a mix of curiosity and concern. "And if you think about it, we haven't even been properly acquainted. I don't know your story. You're a friend of Soren’s?"

My inner wolf recoiled at the name. A sharp, physical ache bloomed in the center of my chest, stealing my breath. I shook my head, fighting the melancholy trying to drown me. Despite my misery, a small part of me felt relieved Kaelar refused to leave. His presence offered a strange, compelling anchor in the chaos.

"No," I murmured, my gaze locked on the floor tiles. "Well, not exactly. How do you know Soren?"

Before Kaelar could formulate a response, the heavy wooden door swung open. A short, older woman marched into the room. Deep wrinkles lined her tanned face, and dozens of tiny red beads clattered in her braided hair. She adjusted her thick-rimmed glasses, her sharp eyes instantly locking onto Kaelar. She paused, her nostrils flaring as she took a deep sniff. A deep frown carved into her features.

"You are not from here, boy," the healer stated, her voice raspy and demanding. "You smell like the sea to the North. Glacial pack territory. Don't tell me you are the one responsible for this girl's injuries?"

"He's not," I blurted out, jumping to his defense before he could speak. The sudden outburst sent a jolt of pain through my bruised ribs. I winced but forced myself to continue. "He stopped the attack. He has been helping me. He's a... a friend."

Calling him a friend felt strange. I had no idea what Kaelar meant to me yet, but his refusal to abandon me meant more than I wanted to admit.

The healer narrowed her critical eyes at Kaelar. He leaned back in his plastic chair and raised both hands in a slow, mock surrender.

"Very well," the healer huffed, turning her attention back to me. "Let's take a look at the damage."

She stepped up to the examination bed and tilted my chin back. Her calloused fingers gently traced the edges of the open gash on my forehead. She clicked her tongue, her frown deepening.

"Odd. A wound this shallow should have scabbed over by now. Your cells are dormant. The nurse mentioned your ribs took a beating as well."

She instructed me to lift my shirt slightly. I sat in tense silence as her hands pressed along my ribcage. She poked, prodded, and tutted at every massive, purple bruise decorating my skin. The pain made my eyes water. I glanced over at Kaelar. He caught my stare and silently mouthed the words, "Weird old bat."

A sudden, unexpected giggle bubbled up in my throat. I tried to swallow it, but the stifled laugh caused my broken ribs to grind together. I let out a sharp hiss of pain, clutching my side.

"You." The healer did not even bother turning around. She pointed a bony, authoritative finger straight at Kaelar. "I will not hesitate to kick you out of my clinic."

Kaelar simply flashed a charming, unrepentant smirk and leaned further back in his chair.

The healer spent another five minutes running diagnostic checks, testing my reflexes, and examining my pupils with a harsh penlight.

"Two of your ribs are fractured," she declared, stepping back to document her findings on a clipboard. "And you have suffered a mild concussion. However, those are standard injuries."

She lowered the clipboard. Her dark eyes darted toward Kaelar, then drifted back to lock onto my face. The playful annoyance vanished from her expression, replaced by a grave, heavy seriousness.

"As for your complete lack of healing abilities," the healer said, her voice dropping to a hushed tone. "I can think of a few specific reasons why your wolf is failing to regenerate your cells. We need to have a very private conversation. Now."

She turned to Kaelar and shooed him toward the door with quick flicks of her wrists. "Out. Give us the room."

Kaelar stood up, his smirk fading. He looked at me, offering a reassuring nod. "I'll be right outside the door if you need me."

The healer marched behind him, practically pushing him into the hallway before slamming the heavy door right in his face. The loud click of the lock echoed in the silent room.

The atmosphere shifted. The air grew thick and suffocating. The healer walked back to my bedside. Her mouth pressed into a grim, thin line.

"Rowena."

She stood directly in front of me, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Have you found your mate yet?"

The blunt question hit me like a physical blow. My lungs seized. There was absolutely no logical way she could know about my eighteenth birthday, about the disastrous morning in the woods, or about Soren.

I gripped the edges of the crinkling paper beneath me. "I... I don't know what you mean by that," I stammered, my voice trembling as I spun a feeble, desperate lie. "I'm only eighteen."

The healer shook her head, her expression hardening with no patience for my denial. "Do not lie to me, girl. This is a matter of life and death. This is directly tied to your suppressed healing powers. Did you know a shifter's core magic can be severely weakened, or even entirely neutralized, by an impending rejection from their fated mate?"

"He hasn't rejected me!" I shouted, the denial tearing from my throat much louder and more frantic than I intended. The raw volume of my voice echoed off the sterile walls.

The healer did not flinch. She stared right through my defenses. "He hasn't. Not yet."

The massive, suffocating lump in my throat returned with a vengeance. My vision blurred as hot, uninvited tears welled in my eyes. The fight drained out of me, leaving nothing but exhausting despair.

The healer's stern eyes softened just a fraction. She pulled up a rolling stool and sat down close to the bed, placing a comforting hand on my knee.

"There is your problem, dear," she explained, her voice taking on a maternal, sorrowful tone. "The mate bond is an ancient, biological tether. It requires absolute clarity to function. You are currently trapped in a magical and emotional limbo. To go on with your life, either with your mate or without him, the bond must be solidified through claiming, or shattered completely through formal rejection. Because the tether remains half-broken, your inner wolf is bleeding out all her energy trying to sustain a dying connection. While she fights this impossible battle, she has zero strength left to heal your physical body. Your abilities will never come back in this state."

I sniffed, struggling to hold back a wretched sob. I furiously rubbed the tears from my eyes, hating my own fragile weakness. "What are you saying?"

She grabbed a tissue from the counter and handed it to me. She waited in patient silence while I blew my nose, angry at myself for breaking down in front of a stranger.

"I am saying this mate of yours, whoever this boy is, you have to break the bond officially. Both of you must speak the words and sever the tie," the healer warned, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "If you try to drag this out, things are only going to get significantly worse for you."

I dropped my heavy head into my trembling hands. My fingers tangled into my messy red hair. Whatever her definition of "worse" meant, I highly doubted it could eclipse the crushing agony currently ripping my soul apart.

"Your stunted healing is only the beginning phase of the deterioration," she continued, gently rubbing circles into my back. "The biological clock is ticking, Rowena. You must put a definitive end to this bond right now, before your body triggers your first heat."

Heat.

The word hung in the air like a death sentence. The biological mating cycle. The primal drive that forced mated wolves to consummate their bond. I did not bother asking for the gruesome medical details. I felt too consumed by my own suffocating sadness to care about the specifics of my ruined future.

"If you enter your heat cycle while trapped in this rejection limbo," the healer whispered, delivering the final, catastrophic blow, "the conflicting magical signals will tear your nervous system apart. Your internal organs will begin to fail. The pain will drive your wolf insane, and your body will face a catastrophic physical breakdown. It is a fatal condition. You must force the rejection."

She stood up, walking over to the metal counter. She grabbed a cotton swab and a jar of thick, herbal paste. She returned to my side and carefully patched up the bleeding gash on my forehead. The paste burned at first, then numbed the raw flesh.

"I am going to step out and prescribe you some painkillers," the healer murmured, packing up her supplies. "It will offer a temporary fix for the fractured ribs. But only the rejection will save your life. I will leave you alone for a few minutes."

She unlocked the door and slipped out.

The moment the door clicked shut, the dam broke. I pulled my knees to my chest, curled into a tight ball on the examination bed, and let the tragic reality wash over me. The tears flowed freely, soaking the collar of my ruined shirt.

I had to break the bond between Soren and me. I possessed no other choice. My desperate plea in the forest, begging him not to reject me today, was nothing more than a pathetic attempt to avoid the inevitable. He did not want me. He chose Sloane. He craved the status, the power, the flawless image. There remained no escaping the bitter, devastating truth. Delaying the rejection was actively killing me.

The heavy wooden door creaked open. I peeked out from beneath my bruised arm, expecting the healer to return with the medication.

Instead, Kaelar walked in. He shut the door quietly behind him and crossed the room. He didn't sit in the plastic chair. He dropped straight to his knees right beside my bed, bringing himself level with my curled-up form.

"Christ," Kaelar muttered, his voice thick with raw empathy. "What did the old bat say to make you cry like this?"

His striking blue eyes held genuine sympathy, but mortification burned my cheeks. I felt appalled to be witnessed in such a vulnerable, broken state. I buried my face deep into the thin hospital pillow, gulping back the violent sobs tearing up my throat.

Kaelar refused to let me hide. He reached out, his warm fingers wrapping gently around my shivering arm.

"Hey, Rowena," he prompted, his tone steady and grounding. "Talk to me. What did she say?"

I could not look at him. I could not find the oxygen to explain the sheer magnitude of the pain crushing my chest. My wolf whined in hollow defeat.

Kaelar hesitated, his thumb lightly stroking my arm. "Does any of this have something to do with Soren? I know it was his girlfriend's group who cornered you. I saw the way Ramona looked at you."

I slowly lifted my head, resting my cheek against the damp pillow to look at him. His intense blue gaze felt like it was boring straight through my flesh, reading the tragic secrets etched into my soul.

Above us, the ancient ceiling fan creaked softly, the rusted metal blades spinning in lazy, monotonous circles. The rhythmic ticking sound filled the heavy silence. I rolled onto my back, ignoring the flare of pain in my ribs, and stared blankly up at the spinning machinery. The rusted wings carried thick layers of dust, propelling stale air around the sterile room.

I opened my mouth, the devastating truth tasting like ash on my tongue.

"Soren is my mate."

The words dropped into the room like a physical weight. Kaelar froze. A heavy, stunned silence stretched between us. I kept my glassy eyes locked onto the slowly spinning fan, refusing to look at his reaction.

When Kaelar finally found his voice, pure perplexity laced his tone.

"Soren... is your mate?" He shifted his weight on the floor, trying to piece the puzzle together. "Well, I guess that explains his sudden, intense aggression when I put you in my car. But why were things so damn stiff between you two in the parking lot? Does he even know you are his mate?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. I balled my trembling hands into tight fists, my fingernails digging into my palms as the memory of the clearing assaulted my mind. The smell of the rain. The disgust in his eyes.

"Then why were you attacked?" Kaelar pressed, his confusion deepening into anger. "And... what about Sloane? Did he end things with her?"

I turned my face to look down at him. The somber, defeated expression painted across my bruised features instantly silenced his interrogation. Kaelar's jaw slackened.

A single, hot tear escaped the corner of my eye and tracked a slow path down my temple. I wrestled with my vocal cords, desperate to keep my tone steady, but it proved useless. The confession slipped out like a quiet, hollow sigh of absolute defeat.

"He didn't end things with Sloane. And he is never going to. Because he doesn't want me as his mate. He made his choice very clear."

Kaelar remained completely paralyzed, a look of profound, silent shock freezing his features.

"Sloane's friends attacked me today because they caught us together in the woods," I continued, my voice devoid of all emotion. "They knew I was his fated mate. They knew Sloane would not be happy about the threat to her territory. So they decided to handle the problem for her."

I reached up, my numb fingers brushing against the edge of the fresh gauze taped to my forehead.

"I begged him not to reject me today. I bought myself some time," I whispered, the crushing weight of reality settling into my bones. "But the healer said if we don't sever the bond completely, my abilities will never return. Because the connection is in limbo, my wolf is bleeding out. In fact, things are only going to get much worse."

I quoted the healer's fatal warning, my tone entirely flat, dead, and hollow. "If I don't force him to officially reject me before my first biological heat begins, the conflicting magic will trigger a catastrophic physical breakdown. My organs will fail. I will die."

Kaelar knelt motionless beside me. His face rested mere inches from mine, his blue eyes wide with quiet devastation. He offered no useless platitudes. He possessed no solutions to the ticking clock hovering over my life.

I gave him a small, empty, broken smile. I turned my gaze back up to the ceiling fan. It spun around and around above me, creaking softly, ticking away the remaining seconds of my ruined life in the otherwise silent, tragic room.