Rejected Healer: Fleeing the Alpha's Grip

The sound of splintering wood jolted me from my restless sleep at dawn. I bolted upright in my empty bed, Neil's side cold and untouched for the third night running, and listened to the destruction echoing from below. Glass shattered against stone, followed by the crash of metal instruments hitting the floor.

My healing chambers.

I threw on my robe and raced downstairs, my bare feet slipping on the wooden steps. The door to my sanctuary hung askew on its hinges, and the sight that greeted me made my blood run cold. Every piece of equipment I'd painstakingly collected over the years lay in ruins. My specialized silver extraction tools—irreplaceable instruments that had taken me years to acquire—were twisted beyond recognition. Herb jars lay smashed against the walls, their precious contents mixing with shards of glass in a kaleidoscope of waste.

But it was the message scrawled across my treatment table in what looked like dried blood that made my hands shake: "MURDERER. YOUR BROTHER'S BLOOD IS ON YOUR HANDS. I'LL MAKE YOU PAY."

Rocky Henderson. The dead rogue's brother.

I backed away from the destruction, my mind racing. This wasn't random vandalism—this was a promise. A threat that would only escalate until he got the revenge he craved. And thanks to Neil's manipulation, Rocky believed I was the one responsible for his brother's death.

I needed Neil. Whatever had gone wrong between us, he was still my mate, still the Alpha who was supposed to protect his Luna. I threw on clothes and ran through the pack house corridors, following his scent to his private office.

The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear voices inside—Neil's deep, soothing tone mixed with soft feminine sobs. I pushed the door open without knocking.

Neil sat behind his mahogany desk, but his attention was entirely focused on Amelie, who was curled in the leather chair across from him like a wounded bird. Her face was buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with what appeared to be genuine distress. Neil leaned forward, his expression tender in a way I hadn't seen directed at me in months.

"It's not your fault," he was saying, his voice gentle. "You did everything you could. Sometimes these things just happen."

"Neil," I interrupted, my voice sharp with urgency. "We have a problem."

He looked up, irritation flashing across his features at the interruption. "Blakely, can't you see I'm busy? Amelie is going through a difficult time."

"Rocky Henderson destroyed my healing chambers," I said, stepping into the room. "He left threats written in blood. He's hunting me because he thinks I killed his brother."

Amelie's sobs quieted, and I caught her watching me through her fingers with eyes that weren't nearly as distressed as her tears suggested.

Neil sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're overreacting. It's probably just some minor vandalism. These rogues are always causing trouble."

"Overreacting?" I stared at him in disbelief. "Neil, he knows where I live. He's made direct threats. I need protection."

"Handle it yourself," Neil said dismissively, turning back to Amelie. "You're a Luna. Figure it out. I have more important things to deal with right now."

More important things. I looked at Amelie, who had resumed her pitiful sobbing, and felt something cold settle in my chest. "More important than your mate's safety?"

"Amelie is traumatized," Neil said, his tone growing defensive. "She's never lost a patient before. She needs support right now, not drama."

Drama. He was calling a direct threat to my life drama.

I turned to leave, but Neil's next words stopped me cold.

"Actually, since you're here," he said, his voice taking on that casual tone he used when he was about to drop a bombshell, "I have some news. I've purchased the Moonridge cabin property for Amelie."

The world tilted. Moonridge cabin—the remote, beautiful property overlooking the valley that I'd fallen in love with three years ago. The same property I'd begged Neil to consider purchasing for us, where I'd dreamed of setting up a private retreat for our future family. He'd dismissed it then as "too expensive" and "impractical."

"You what?" The words came out as barely a whisper.

Neil had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable, but his jaw remained set. "Amelie deserves a safe space to recover from this trauma. Somewhere peaceful where she can heal."

"That was our place," I said, my voice hollow. "I showed you that property. I wanted us to—"

"You should be more understanding of what Amelie has been through," Neil cut me off, his tone growing cold. "She's suffered enough without you making this about yourself."

I looked between them—Neil protective and defensive, Amelie watching me with barely concealed satisfaction despite her tears. The man I'd saved from a silver trap, the man I'd sacrificed my dreams for, had just given my dream home to his mistress while dismissing threats to my life as an overreaction.

"You're right," I said quietly, backing toward the door. "I should handle this myself."

Neil nodded approvingly, already turning back to comfort Amelie. "Good. I knew you'd understand."

I closed the door softly behind me and stood in the empty hallway, surrounded by the suffocating silence of a home that no longer felt like mine. Rocky Henderson wanted revenge, and Neil had made it clear I was on my own.

Fine. If I was going to handle this myself, I'd do it properly. But first, I had some planning to do.