Chapter 3 The Price of a Pulse

I didn't move. I couldn't. The heat coming off the man’s body was a physical wall, pinning me against the damp stone of the cellar. He was standing directly behind me, his chest pressing into my shoulder blades with every ragged breath he took. The antiseptic scent I had used to scrub his wounds was being drowned out by a raw, primal musk that made my heart hammer a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

"Answer me," he growled. The vibration of his voice traveled through my spine. "Who paid you to stitch me up?"

I forced myself to take a shallow breath, trying to steady the tremor in my hands. I still held the lantern, and its flickering flame cast long, dancing shadows against the crates of glass eyes and tanning salts.

"No one paid me," I said, my voice sounding much smaller than I wanted it to be. "You bled all over my floor. I don't like messes, so I cleaned you up."

The hand beside my head shifted, the fingers curling into the cracks of the masonry. I could feel the sheer strength in him, the kind of coiled power that could snap my neck before I even had time to scream.

"Lie again," he hissed, "and I’ll see how your own throat looks with a few of your surgical stitches in it."

I turned then. It was a risk, but I couldn't talk to a shadow. I moved slowly, keeping my elbows tucked in, until I was facing him.

Up close, he was even more terrifying than he had been as a wolf. He was tall, his head nearly brushing the low timber beams of the ceiling. His hair was a chaotic mess of dark strands, and his face was a map of sharp angles and fresh bruising. But it was his eyes that stopped my breath. They weren't golden anymore, but a piercing, stormy grey that seemed to see right through the mask I spent every day perfecting.

"I’m not lying," I said, meeting his gaze. "I’m Elara Vance. I’m the town’s taxidermist. You showed up at my door dying of silver poisoning. In Oakhaven, people who ask too many questions end up on my table. I decided I’d rather have you as a guest than a specimen."

His eyes dropped to my throat, then to my hands. He looked at the raw, bleach-burned skin of my knuckles. Something flickered in his expression—not quite trust, but a softening of the murderous intent that had been radiating off him. He took a staggering step back, his hand clutching his hip where I had sewn the jagged exit wound.

He winced, his face draining of color, and he slumped back against a stack of wooden crates. The bravado vanished, replaced by the reality of a man who had lost half his blood volume and been poisoned by the one metal meant to unmake him.

"You’re a fool," he rasped, his eyes fluttering shut. "Julian Vane doesn't leave loose ends. If he finds me here, he won't just kill you. He’ll make you watch while he burns everything you’ve ever touched."

"He was just here," I said.

The man’s eyes snapped open. "What?"

"Ten minutes ago. He was on my porch asking about a large, grey stray. I told him I hadn't seen anything." I crossed my arms, trying to stop the shivering that was starting to take over my limbs. "He didn't believe me. He smelled the bleach. He knows I’m hiding something, he just doesn't know what yet."

The stranger let out a dry, hacking laugh that turned into a groan of pain. "He knows. Julian always knows. He’s just waiting for the right moment to squeeze. He likes the hunt more than the kill."

He looked at me then, really looked at me, and for the first time, I felt like he was seeing the person behind the professional distance.

"My name is Silas," he said.

I felt the blood drain from my face. "Silas? As in... the Alpha’s family? You’re one of them?"

"I was the heir," he said, his voice bitter as gall. "Until my brother decided he didn't want to wait for our father to die. He didn't just want the title. He wanted the bloodline purged. He’s the one who put that spike in me."

The weight of what I had done finally hit me. I hadn't just saved a rogue wolf. I had stepped into the middle of a civil war within the most powerful family in the state. I was a commoner holding a king in my basement while the usurper banged on my front door.

"You need to leave," I whispered, the panic finally rising in my throat. "If you stay here, you’re a death sentence for me."

"I can’t even walk to the stairs, let alone the woods," Silas said, gesturing to his leg. The bandages I had applied were already beginning to bloom with fresh red. "And even if I could, the town is crawling with Enforcers. I’m a dead man the second I step into the light."

I looked at him, truly seeing the desperation buried under his pride. I had spent my life staying neutral. I had walked the line between the human and the monster, never tilting one way or the other. But neutrality was a lie. By opening that door, I had chosen a side.

"I have a van," I said, the words coming out before I could talk myself out of them. "I use it to transport larger specimens to the city for the museum. It’s lined with lead and zinc to keep the smells in. It might mask your scent for a while."

Silas looked at me, a strange, unreadable expression on his face. "Why are you helping me? You don't know me. I’m a monster, Elara. I’ve done things that would make your skin crawl."

"I work with dead things, Silas," I said, stepping toward the stairs. "I’ve seen what’s inside everything. Wolves, humans, deer. Under the skin, we’re all just meat and bone and a desperate need to keep breathing. I’m helping you because I’m tired of seeing the bad guys win in this town."

I reached the top of the stairs and looked back down. He was watching me, his grey eyes narrowed in thought.

"Stay quiet," I warned. "I’m going to go get the van ready. If I hear a single noise from down here, I’m calling the Sheriff and telling him I found a squatter."

I didn't wait for his response. I slid the specimen shelf back into place, the heavy wood groaning as it locked him in the darkness.

My house was silent, but it felt different now. The air was thick with the secret I was keeping. I walked to the kitchen and gripped the edge of the sink, staring at my reflection in the darkened window. I looked the same—the same pale skin, the same dark circles under my eyes, the same stray hairs escaping my ponytail.

But I felt like a stranger to myself.

I checked the window. The mist was thick, clinging to the trees like a shroud. I saw a flash of light in the distance—the headlights of an Enforcer patrol car prowling the main road.

I had to move. If I waited for the sun to fully rise, I was trapped.

I grabbed my keys and a heavy wool coat, my heart leaping into my throat as I heard a soft, rhythmic thumping from beneath the floorboards. It was Silas. He was tapping a rhythm against the stone.

Three short, three long, three short.

S.O.S.

The monster had a sense of humor. Or maybe he was just reminding me that time was running out. I headed for the back door, the cold morning air hitting my face like a slap. I didn't know where I was going to take him, or how I was going to get past the checkpoints, but for the first time in my life, I wasn't just preserving the past.

I was fighting for a future, even if it was one I wouldn't live to see.