Third Person’s POV


    The past shed through his mind like frames from a slow–motion, ck–and–white movie.


    Just like Digby said–did he know it was wrong? Of course, he knew.


    But why did he do it anyway? Was it for some cheap shot of vanity? Or just to feel like he actually mattered in this twisted excuse for a family?


    “Go home,” Digby said, waving him off like he was shooing a fly.


    “It’s freezing out here. You’re the Captain of the Royal Guard; standing here begging at my front door like a stray just causes me trouble. It makes a mockery of the sacrifice Alpha Zander made for you.”


    Shame hit Ulrik like a tidal wave, but Rosemary was still his mother.


    He gritted his teeth, his voice barely a whisper. “Dr. Digby… I’m begging you. Just one bottle. Even if it just gets her through the New Year, please.”


    “She doesn’t deserve it.”


    Digby spat the words out, ice–cold. End of discussion.


    Ulrik walked away from the center looking like a ghost–empty and broken.


    Back inside, Galvin stepped out from the shadows.


    He started organizing ss vials on a rack, looking confused.


    “Why’d you give that werewolf the time of day? That’s not usually your style.”


    Galvin was baffled. He’d worked for Digby for years and knew he couldn’t stand the idiots over at the Bloodmoon Pack.


    Yet here he was, giving that weak Alpha a full–blown life lesson,


    Digby let out a heavy sigh that sounded like it carried a century of weight.


    “I just didn’t want people to think Aire was a fool for marrying her prized daughter off to him.”


    He stood up and moved toward the firece, the mes dancing across his wrinkled face.


    He rubbed his hands together to catch the heat.


    “Even if she clearly missed the mark on his character, she shouldn’t have to listen to people mocking her judgment from the afterlife.”


    “Besides,” Digby’s ‘eyes sharpened, “Ulrik isn’t a total lost cause. Alpha Zander lost an entire arm on the battlefield saving his life. If this guy doesn’t wake up and stop following his lunatic mother’s orders,


    then/a


    00


    MICHE


    <b>12 </b>


    <b><i>W </i></b>


    13 <b>Mon</b><b>, </b><b>Jan </b><b>12 </b>


    Zander’s sacrifice was for nothing.”


    Galvin nodded, but his gut told him there was more to it.


    +5 <b>Free </b><b>Coins </b>


    “Is that really the only reason? Usually, when you hate someone, you don’t even bother wasting your breath on them.”


    “Drop it,” Digby snapped, turning his back to the room. “I just hope… that my worries are misced.


    Ulrik returned to the Bloodmoon pack empty–handed.


    The people left at the mansion had already braced themselves for bad news. They’d been rejected a dozen times already; why would Ulrik going in person change anything?


    Everyone knew that on Dr. Digby’s list of most–hated werewolves, Ulrik was definitely top three.


    Rosemaryy in bed, her cloudy eyes glued to the door.


    She knew her son had gone to beg for the meds, and she w


    clinging to that onest shred of hope.


    The door creaked open. Ulrik was holding a small, polished wooden box.


    Rosemary’s pupils shrunk. She knew that box!


    It was the custom cedar case Digby Medical Center used specifically for Danzel.


    “You… you got it?”


    She let out a raspy, ecstatic shriek, her hand–thin and wed like a bird’s–reaching out for the box.


    Ulrik stood by the bed, using the shadows to hide the look on his face..


    He turned to Sandra, the omega maid. “Get some water. I’ll give Luna Rosemary her medicine.”


    Sandra knew the truth. She gave the fake box aplicated look before turning to pour the water.


    The pill dissolved into a murky brown liquid.


    Rosemary snatched the cup, tilted her head back, and gulped it down.


    But the second it hit her tongue, her expression twisted.


    Something was wrong. The taste was way off!


    Real Danzel had a signature, faint floral scent. This stuff was just vile and bitter.


    “Bang-!”


    She pped the cup out of his hand. The brown liquid sttered across the rug, leaving a nasty stain.


    “This isn’t Danzel!”


    MON


    O


    <b>09:13 </b>Mon, <b>Jan </b><b>12 </b>


    “Mother!”


    Virik’s voice was ragged,


    “It’s a substitute. It’s not as powerful as the real thing, but it’ll take the edge off the pain and make youfortable.”


    “I don’t want it! Take it away! Get it all out of here!”


    Rosemary roared, her chest heaving. “Only Danzel can save me! Are you trying to kill me?!”


    “Stop being so difficult!” Sandra pleaded, wiping away tears. This stuff cost a fortune, too. Just drink a little, please…”


    “You’re all useless! Everyst one of you!”


    Rosemary’s bloodshot eyes scanned the room beforending on the door.


    “Where’s Sabrina? Get her back here… the pack she’s with now has money! They have status! They can get the meds!”


    At this point, Ulrik just felt numb.


    “If she wanted to be here, she would be,” he said coldly. “I sent messengers three times. I’ve called her <i>a </i>thousand times. She says she has ‘socialmitments‘ she can’t skip.”


    Rosemary froze for a second, then let out a scream of pure, hollowed–out despair.


    Watching her, Ulrik felt a surge of pure irritation.


    He finally realized that taking care of a long–term patient who didn’t have a grateful bone in their body was soul–crushing.


    He suddenly thought of Adide. How did she do it? How did she handle his mother’s insults and sickness for a whole year without snapping, all while staying graceful and patient?


    He’d only been doing it for a few days, and he was already dying to run out of that toxic room and never look back.


    admin


    <strong>Olivia Harris</strong> is an emerging author celebrated for her captivating romantic and steamy novels. With a talent for crafting deep emotional connections and fiery chemistry between her characters, Olivia’s stories offer readers an escape into worlds filled with passion, intrigue, and heart-stopping drama.