Chapter 4

Lana's POV

The moment the heavy, glass-paneled restaurant doors swung shut behind Silas and his sycophants, Maya resurrected with a vengeance.

She leaned so far across the table that her sleeve dipped into her vinaigrette. Her eyes were wide, darting between the door and my flushed face. "Lana... holy shit. Is Silas Vane actually... you know?"

She didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she pressed her two index fingers together in a gesture as old as time.

I understood her instantly. My face heated up, a prickly warmth spreading from my chest to my hairline. How was I supposed to describe the carnage of last night? It wasn't just "that."

“He’s well-endowed.”

If it weren't for the brews I'd spent three grueling years forcing down his throat, he'd still be a "Paper Alpha".

"Don't mention him," I said, waving a hand dismissively as if I could brush away the memory of his hands bruising my hips. "It ruins the salad. Did you find the lead on that clinic space in the Neutral Zone?"

Maya sighed, leaning back and crossing her arms. "I did. It's perfect. High foot traffic, independent power grid, and far enough from the Vane territory that you won't smell their arrogance. But Lana, the rent in the Neutral Zone is extortionate. You're divorcing the richest Alpha in the northern hemisphere. Surely he's cutting you a massive settlement? I mean, three years of your life has to be worth a few million at least."

"I'm leaving with nothing, Maya. I won't take a single cent of Vane money."

"Why the fuck not? The second his aunt kicks the bucket, you're just supposed to step aside for that silk-wrapped viper Celine? I'm going to curse him with permanent impotence. Let's see how his dear mate likes him when his sword doesn't unsheathe."

I choked on my water, coughing as the liquid hit my lungs. Too late for that, Maya. If anything, I had just ensured Silas would be a physical powerhouse for the next century.

"You're too soft, Lana. That's why he's bullied you for three years," Maya said, her voice softening with concern. She reached across the table, covering my bandaged hand with hers.

"But fine. Leaving that family is like jumping out of a burning building. It's his loss. One day, he'll wake up and realize he traded a diamond for a piece of coal. If you're short on the deposit for the shop, I'll cover you. My family's trade business had a good quarter."

The Maya family wasn't at the top of the shifter, but they were comfortable and, more importantly, they weren't assholes. I didn't stand on ceremony. I needed out, and I needed it now. "Thanks, Maya. Rent it for me. I'll pay you back once the Cafe is up and running."

After parting ways with Maya, I didn't go back to the villa. I couldn't. Instead, I hailed a taxi and gave an address far away from the glittering, steel-and-glass skyscrapers of the Vane District.

We drove into the "Market"—Most are nothing but from the lower ranks, yet some hide extraordinary powers within them—

Even the high-ranking figures on the Council have to come humbly, in person, to beg for their favor.

I stepped into a small shop that smelled of dried sage, iron, and ancient earth. Master Caspian Thorne—no relation to the Thorne sisters, a fact he took great pride in—looked up from his heavy stone mortar and pestle.

His eyes lit up when he saw me, but the warmth vanished the second his gaze landed on my hand.

"Lana? What the hell happened to your hand? "

"Just a clumsy human moment with a glass vase, Caspian. It's nothing." I pulled my hand back, tucking it into the pocket of my trench coat before he could inspect the stitching.

Caspian was a Beta, but he had the diagnostic eyes of a hawk.

"You're late with your order," he noted, wiping his hands on a dark apron. "What are you doing here today? You usually only come by to pick up the Blood Root and the stabilizers for the Alpha."

I gave him a tired smile, the kind that didn't reach my eyes, and extended my left wrist across the scarred wooden counter. "Caspian... can you read my pulse? My internal flow... it feels heavy. Like there's lead in my veins."

Caspian frowned, his brow furrowing as he placed his index, middle, and ring fingers over my radial artery. He didn't use a blood pressure cuff or a digital monitor. He used the old ways— and humans rarely possessed.

One minute passed. The shop was silent except for the ticking of a clock and the heavy thud of my own heart. Two minutes. Caspian's face, usually the color of rich mahogany, turned a sickly, ashen shade of grey.

He stood up so abruptly that his heavy wooden stool clattered backward against the stone floor. "Are you insane? Lana, what have you done?"

"I did what I had to do," I whispered.

His eyes then drifted to the collar of my trench coat. One of the buttons had come loose, revealing the dark, angry purple marks Silas had left on the sensitive skin of my neck. His expression shifted from shock to pure, unadulterated agony.

"You've spent three years filtering the silver-rot out of his blood," Caspian hissed, his voice trembling with a mixture of grief and fury.

"I was watching the charts, Lana! Ninety percent was gone. He was stable! The last ten percent... he's a True Alpha, for god's sake. He could have metabolized that residue himself with another six months of tea and time! Why did you use the Transference Method? Why the fuck would you let him mark you now, of all times?"

He lunged across the counter, grabbing my shoulders with hands that smelled of lavender and copper. His voice broke as he stared into my eyes.

"Don't you realize? To clear the final toxins from an Alpha's core, the healer has to act as a vacuum. You have to take the 'residue' into your own body through the soul-bond. The poison hasn't vanished, Lana. It didn't just disappear into the ether. It moved! You've traded your health for his virility. You're carrying the silver-rot now!"