His Captive Bride is His Cure

Scarlett POV "Let me try," I said, my voice trembling but cutting through the heavy silence like a blade. "I can save her." The words hung in the air, fragile and desperate. For a heartbeat, the only sound was the relentless, high-pitched drone of the heart monitor—a flatline that screamed death. Chastity was the first to react. A sharp, incredulous laugh escaped her painted lips. "Did you hear that, Duncan? The Omega who killed our Luna now wants to play Healer? How utterly pathetic!" She stepped closer, her perfume cloying and sweet, masking the rot of her soul. "You think a few parlor tricks will save your skin, girl? You're delusional." Duncan's face twisted into a mask of pure disgust. He didn't even look at me, addressing the room as if I were a stain on the carpet. "This is a desecration. Grandmother is gone, and this... creature is making a mockery of her passing." He gestured sharply to the two warriors standing by the door. "Get her out of my sight. Take her to the cells and end this farce." The warriors moved instantly. Rough hands clamped onto my biceps, their grip bruising. I gasped, trying to dig my heels into the plush rug, but I was weak. My throat still throbbed where Kaelen had choked me earlier, and my energy was dangerously low. "No! Please!" I cried out, looking frantically at Kaelen. He was still on his knees, his head bowed over Genevieve's hand, seemingly lost to the world. "Kaelen, I can bring her back! Just let me—" One of the warriors yanked me backward, hard enough to make my neck snap. Then, the air in the room changed. It wasn't a sound. It was a pressure—a sudden, crushing weight that dropped the temperature by twenty degrees. The scent of ozone and dark chocolate, now burnt with fury, flooded the chamber. Kaelen rose. He didn't stand like a man; he uncoiled like a predator. A low, vibrating growl rumbled from his chest, deep enough to rattle the windows. The warriors holding me froze, their instincts screaming at them to submit. "She is mine." The Alpha Command slammed into us, a physical force that buckled the knees of everyone in the room. It wasn't a statement of affection; it was a declaration of possession, primal and terrifying. Kaelen turned, his eyes no longer human but pitch black, the beast fully in control. "Touch her, and you die." The warriors released me as if I were made of molten iron, scrambling back with heads lowered, baring their necks in submission. Even Duncan took a step back, his face paling as the sheer magnitude of his brother's power washed over him. Kaelen stalked toward me. He stopped inches away, his chest heaving, his gaze burning into mine with a mixture of hatred and a confusing, desperate hunger. He looked like he wanted to tear my throat out, yet his hand hovered near my arm, trembling as if fighting the urge to pull me close. "Save her," he snarled, the command vibrating in my bones. "Do it. Now." I didn't waste a second. I rushed to the bedside, my hands shaking as I pulled the small velvet pouch from my pocket. I unrolled it on the nightstand, revealing a set of thin, black needles carved from obsidian. A murmur of disbelief rippled through the room. "Obsidian?" the Pack doctor scoffed, adjusting his glasses. "That's primitive witchcraft, not medicine. Alpha, you cannot let her—" I ignored him. I had to. I placed my fingers on Genevieve's cold wrist, searching for the faint, dormant energy channels my grandmother had taught me to find. They were fading fast. I took the first needle and drove it into the pressure point at the base of her throat. Nothing happened. The monitor continued its flatline drone. Beeeeeeeeeeep. My hands were shaking violently now. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving only exhaustion. I placed the second needle. The third. Sweat dripped down my forehead, stinging my eyes. "Look at her hands," Duncan sneered, his confidence returning as the seconds ticked by. "She's trembling like a leaf. She has no idea what she's doing, Kaelen! She's just stalling for time!" I gritted my teeth, sliding the seventh needle into Genevieve's chest. Still nothing. "Brother, please," Ellison spoke up from the corner, his voice thick with grief. He leaned heavily on his cane, his eyes pleading. "Let Nana rest in peace. Don't let this girl torture her body any longer. It's cruel." "It's over, Kaelen!" Duncan roared, stepping forward again. "She's a fraud! I will kill her myself!" I held the final needle—the tenth one. It was the anchor. If this didn't work, I was dead. My vision blurred. The pressure in the room was suffocating. "SILENCE!" Kaelen's roar shattered the dissent. He didn't look at his family. His gaze was fixed on the flat green line, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. He was betting everything on me—on the woman he hated. I took a deep breath, channeling the last reserves of my strength, calling upon the White Wolf dormant within me. I drove the final needle into the center of Genevieve's sternum. For a second, there was absolute silence. Even the air seemed to hold its breath. Then, the monitor hiccuped. Beep. The sound was faint, but in the quiet room, it sounded like a gunshot. Duncan's mouth fell open. Chastity gasped. Beep... Beep... Beep. The flat green line spiked, finding a rhythm. Weak, erratic, but undeniably alive. Color began to creep back into Genevieve's translucent cheeks. I slumped against the bedframe, my knees giving out as the room spun. I looked up through my lashes to see Kaelen staring at the monitor, then at me. The black in his eyes was receding, replaced by a storm of gray that held shock, confusion, and something that looked terrifyingly like awe. I had bought my life back. But as I looked at the resurrected woman and the Alpha who had claimed me as his, I knew the real danger was only just beginning.